Everybody needs the light


Six days in, and so far a pretty productive 2016, though I haven’t much to show for it.

I have had some very challenging writing tasks at work this week. Tight deadlines, very technical and detailed research to understand what I was doing, interviews that tested my skills, intelligence and ability to bullshit to their limits. I think – I hope, that the rest of the week should be a bit easier, as these three days were like three weeks. But that’s just the job, and how it is.

The kid has been amazingly good since Sunday. All the back and forth between here and his Dad’s place over the busy holiday season has stopped and he is back to a routine he can depend on. Back in school and his brain is ready to learn, and he’s thriving. He described to me exactly what kind of sweater he would wear now, after rejecting sweaters since the time came he could dress himself, and I ordered a couple online since sweaters are few and far between in the stores now that it’s 16 degrees at night (though it’s going up to 50 in a couple of days – crazy). We’ve had some really fun times doing simple shit. He’s been eating whatever I put in front of him, doing his homework and going to bed on time. He came home and sat and read a book I got him from the library while I got dinner together tonight. This part of parenting is not flashy and there are no rewards, but it’s going, it’s moving forward.

I’ve had to work through lunch so lunchtime workouts have not happened, but I’ve gotten my PT done in the evenings at least, which is better than nothing. So that’s happening.

I’m submitting articles far and wide. Crafting great query letters but not hitting the spot. I feel determined still, and have many writing goals to hit this year. But this is also just something that’s happening, with no results.

I feel like I’m living my life in a vacuum sometimes, with no one to talk to all day except a handful of co-workers, and nobody to talk to at night except my son, and then he’s in bed and it’s just me. And he’s only here every other week. One of my goals was to work harder to save money and go out less, especially when booking the sitter is required, so my social activities have been severely curtailed, beginning with the new year’s eve sequestration in my hotel room in Canada, and continuing on through now. My plan to start having people over for dinner had to be curtailed because I realize I don’t have the money to entertain like that.

When you combine this with the fact that I can’t get outside to walk, hike or run because my foot is still really killing me, and I can’t even get out for lunch to get some sunlight because I’m trying to save money, and it’s a lot of eating leftovers and feeling like I’m running in a Habitrail that isn’t going anywhere until I suddenly keel over, perhaps dropping dead at 60 like my Dad did. I’ll be 47 next month and what do I have to show for a life of working? A house? No. A great savings account for peace of mind? Ha.

There’s been a lot of change in my life over the last couple of years. There are a lot of people I used to see or talk to who aren’t in my life anymore for one reason or another, and that’s been a tough shift. But again, it’s how it goes, and you better keep moving, as the escalator stops suddenly.

I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel depressed. I just feel stagnant and irritated with myself, dissatisfied and restless. Is all I am someone who goes to work every day so that I can have insurance and pay bills to keep my kid fed and watered? Am I just laundry and phone calls to negotiate with creditors and taking out the trash and watching my soap opera and listening to the dog across the way harfing and wheezing every time I come up or down the stairs?

I want more. I am not ashamed of wanting. It does not mean I do not appreciate what I do have. But I want different. I want more.

I can’t see any light during the day. I haven’t had an office environment where I was near a window I could see out of for so long, I can’t remember how long ago it was now. Maybe when I worked in a small office in 1997. That’s a long time to go without the light.


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