I went to NOLA for a funeral, and made it home for a few days before setting off again. In California I found refuge in unexpected places, saw people I’d not thought to ever encounter again, and made it back more intact than I’ve ever managed. And yet, I hide in my burrow, unable to crawl to sunlight. I push away people who care for me and I can’t manage days. Still, I’m functioning at a level that’s more than minimal. I’m kinda social-kinda. I’m eating more than twice a day, and I’m still working. Kinda. I just feel a steady stream of irritation at the world, and twofold at myself.
I’m trying. Here I am, writing. I keep grounding. I am pushing tolerance limits and saving my quarters. I’m driving myself insane, and my lovers are being tested in departments of patience and forgiveness.
I’m moving soon. Matt and I got approved on the apt we liked best, and I’ll be in a new apartment within 30 days, although I’ll be bouncing a bit before then. May was a travel month, and now June is a moving month. And no Thunder. 😦 Instead, I will have security, companionship, a kickass apt, air conditioning and a dishwasher. I am among the privileged few in our world to have a roof and countless American, middle-class luxuries. I will infuse myself with gratitude, and let resentment evaporate like the sweat on my skin.
And maybe I will make it to sleep before sunrise. I think that might count as progress.