I met someone new yesterday on the Metro, and we clicked. It wasn’t romantic, just someone I’d like to hang out with again. She’s a writer, too, and we compared notes as the stations went by. Her name is Susan, because of course it is. Susan is a name with which I need to make my peace, and hopefully a new name association will help immensely. In some sense, it already has.

Because we’re writers, I made sure to get her e-mail address before she got off the train. I need to cut ties to Argo permanently, and having someone to write to that isn’t her is just another thing that will help me move forward. Why would I say something like that? Argo and I have made our own peace, and it needs to rest so it will last.

So, now when I need someone to e-mail, I can resist the temptation to write to her and write to Susan instead. She’s just as funny, but in a different way, and she has already given me a couple of bonus points for being clever, so who wouldn’t want to write to someone like that?

It was an instantaneous recognition of each other, that deep knowing that comes from, “I know I’ve never met you before, but yet, it feels like I have.” Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it’s nice to have someone to pen pal with that isn’t loaded down with the past. I can move past who I was, walking humbly and hoping grace prevails.

Amen.

Last night was a fustercluck of enormous proportions. I didn’t think it was going to snow overnight, so I didn’t pack my bag before I left the office. Therefore, no laptop if the office closed. Thankfully, I was able to get here easily, but that did not stop me from worrying when I got home and realized I was without it. The traffic was just abominable, and even the bus was slipping and sliding as we exited downtown and began the trek to my house. I didn’t get home until 2130, and most of that time was spent on delays with the Metro and sitting on the bus, aimlessly staring into space and listening to podcasts because my phone didn’t have enough battery for me to play games. I just watched the snow, and was happy to get out in it as I walked the eight minutes home.

I enjoy snow when I’m dressed for it, because the only thing that tends to get really cold no matter how much I’m wearing are my hands. The snow was actively coming down, and the first thing I noticed about that is my umbrella being broken. Snowflakes hit my face and I just tried to lick them off. There was little else I could do to help myself except take off my glasses, which within three seconds were so coated I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.

This morning after I’d gotten ready, I was going to Uber to Starbucks, but the fares had spiked to 2.8, which meant that I could be charged up to $50 for a ten minute ride. I walked to the bus stop, and didn’t fall until I was crossing Colesville Road, which is also a state highway, six lanes across. I landed on my ass in front of a lot of people, which I’m sure looked funny, but there was a moment there I thought I broke my ass.

I did not, but my right hip still has a stinging reminder. That reminds me. I have ibuprofen in my desk.

Hold please.

There. That’ll be better in about 20 minutes.

Anywho, when I got home, I took a sleeping pill immediately and put on a movie. Within a half hour, I was asleep, and it felt good to get in a full 9 hours. It made waking up so much easier… in that I actually wanted to. I didn’t hit snooze at all…. A modern miracle.

Tomorrow the office will be open at its regular time, but we may shut down early and go home to VPN. In IT, there are no snow days, just working without pants. Not a bad deal in the slightest, especially since the furnace is fixed and it is not the same temperature in my room that it is outside. Last night it got down to 18…. and remember ladies and gentlemen, that’s not Celsius. That is “omfg my face hurts.”

The city of DC was just as unprepared for last night as I was. We all had to get off the train at Judiciary Square because of some sort of problem, then we all loaded back on when it was fixed. It threw me off in terms of stop count, so I accidentally rode out to Forest Glen instead of getting off at Silver Spring. It gave me a cool picture, which I will include.

A Thousand Miles just came on Spotify. Excuse me while I laugh and cry my way through it. I’ll see yous guys later.

It’s Donut Day at work, and I was lucky enough to get my favorite. I’m having a good day, jazzed on caffeine because I just could not sleep last night. I’m sure it had something to do with all the coffee I drank yesterday morning, and I didn’t take a sleeping pill when I got home. Therefore, I listened to podcasts, watched Nurse Jackie, and played a ton of Zynga games. I should have gone with the sleeping pill, but by the time I realized I’d forgotten it, it was way too late. I would have dragged ass so bad that I could barely dress myself.

Eventually the caffeine high will wear off, and I will crash. Hard. Not looking forward to that part, but it’s part of paying the price. At least I will be tired enough to sleep well tonight. I still don’t know whether we’re working from home tomorrow, because we keep getting conflicting reports about when the storm is supposed to blow in…. between overnight and 1300 tomorrow. So incredibly helpful. I sometimes think phone psychics have more intuition than meteorologists.

Listening to lots of pop and rock today to keep me awake. Lots of guilty pleasures, like MMMBop by Hanson (shut it). It came out the first summer I visited Portland, and I can remember cruising with Diane out the Gorge and it coming on the radio. I’d just finished my freshman year of college, and PDX is gorgeous in the summer. It was the perfect soundtrack for that time in my life, and poignant- “you have so many relationships in this life, and only one or two will last.”

Prophetic, really.

Who knew?

 

This is really the first time I’ve had to sit and write since breakfast. I don’t really have much to say about what’s been going on since then- being a code monkey just about covers it. However, I do want to point out that this web site now has its own Twitter feed, and you can reach it by following @lesliecology. I’m trying to separate out my web site from my personal site, which I seem to be able to do with everything except LinkedIn, but I am sure that I will get responses telling me how at some point or another. Wherever you’re following me, I’m just grateful. A reminder that if you haven’t followed my author’s page on Facebook, you’re probably not getting every entry, because sometimes I remember to post things on my own site, and sometimes I don’t. I’m also on Tumblr, for those of you that still use it. I don’t do Snapchat or Periscope. My life isn’t that interesting… although I do carry an iPhone, so if something interesting does happen, I can download the app on the go. Don’t hold your breath. A video of my day would basically consist of me playing games on my phone with the noise of the Metro in the background. I’m not even that good at the games I play.

Random Snapchat User: Haha, you’re only on level 40?
Leslie: Shut it, douchewaffle.

I’m also reading The Man in the High Castle because I don’t want to wait for Season 2 on Amazon Prime to see what happens.

Again, another fascinating video. Stay tuned for the sequel, “Watch My Paint Dry.”

If you join SBUX rewards program, every 12th drink is free. So, this morning I go and ask if they have any cold brew, because I wanted to see how it compared to Stumptown. They said they didn’t have any ready, but if I got an iced coffee with two shots of espresso, I could get the taste of it. When my drink was ready, the barista said, “I put an extra shot in in for you.” I know she was trying to be sweet, but OH LORT. My officemate is in for it. But even then, that hasn’t been the best part of my day. The best part was when Dom was standing outside smoking and a Tesla pulled up in front of the house to Uber me downtown. He and I both freaked out. It was a MOMENT between gearheads. At first, I didn’t even realize what it was, but then I saw the large, LARGE computer screen in the dash and I knew. I went into a Tesla store in the mall once, and I said, “there’s no way on God’s green earth that I can afford this car, but I’m such a gearhead. Can I just sit in the ‘cockpit?'” They let me, and I decided I would never own one just because of that computer screen. It’s gigantic and distracting in all the wrong ways…. but damn cool.

I also got a text from Hayat last night that the furnace wasn’t working properly, and they should have it fixed by the time I get home. I am so excited. Getting out of bed won’t be so excruciating in the morning, and because I wake up early, it’s usually been about 20 degrees in my room. I was so cold coming back from work last night that I’m wearing skiing silks under my jeans, and two pairs of socks, one of which Dana’s mom got me for Christmas a few years ago and I have almost worn out, they’re so comfortable. I need to find an REI or something and get more pairs of huge woolies. Actually, Amazon might have a better price….. we’ll see. No matter what, I need new outer socks. I got lots of thin layer ones for Christmas, so they’ll work perfectly as liners. Plus, my Docs aren’t too big, but just right to add as many layers of socks as I need to make them comfortable in the winter. I have decided it may be time to part with my Adidas Gazelles and my Chuck Taylors, because there’s no tread on them anymore, and I’ve slid around in them enough. Now that I have both red and brown boots, I have shoes for every occasion.

My friend Scott is a Republican big shot and he’s coming to Washington in March, so perhaps I will show up early when I go pick him up so that I can get a professional shoe shine. I’ll take my cordovan polish just in case they don’t have any. It’s not used THAT often, but it will make my Docs “SHINE like the TOP of the CHRYSLER BUILDING!” If you got that reference, you should also know that when I was a small child, I wore my Annie wig everywhere. Perhaps that’s my root in terms of dying my hair red. 🙂

I don’t want to go to work today. It has nothing to do with work. I love what I do. It’s just cold and I would much rather be wrapped up in my blankets with my laptop than in my office. I may get that chance on Friday, because we’re supposed to wake up to A LOT of snow that day. It’s the first big storm of the season predicted, and I’m excited. I might get the chance to make a real snow angel, the first since we were dumped on in Portland. My favorite picture of that snowstorm is Dana putting chains on my Jeep. #myhero

I wonder what my favorite picture of this storm will be? Probably me with three hats stacked one on top of the other. My dad bought me an awesome coat, but I need a hat… although my baseball cap helps, especially when I’m wearing my headphones.

Speaking of my dad, he’s coming to DC in April to take pictures, and I can’t wait. It will be exactly one year since I moved, and we’re going to celebrate. I love it here so much, and in retrospect, again, I never should have left. I wouldn’t have missed my memories with Dana for the world, but at the same time, if we were meant to meet, we would have. I am hoping that this perpendicular path will one day ease into contact again, but perhaps that is hoping too much. We shall see what we shall see. In the meantime, I have great friends and a city that is dying to be explored. My next outing will be to the zoo, because I haven’t seen Bei-Bei, our new panda. I love the picture going around about the panda and racism- that he’s black, white, AND Asian. So cute.

There is a homeless man sitting on the floor next to me, drumming on his knees. I think it’s almost time to go. Besides, my coffee is almost gone. I wish there was a font that could express how jazzed I am.

Did I mention my officemate is in for it?

There are no words to describe my weekend, mostly because I alternated between sleeping and watching Nurse Jackie. I was so tired from my work week that I needed to recharge my batteries. I made it into DC to hang with Prianka and Elena, and it was just what I needed. When I came home, though, I was out of spoons by a mile and being able to just Netflix and chill in the literal sense of the phrase helped immensely. Besides, it was snowing outside and I was under my electric blanket because my room was so damn cold. I need to get a space heater, and I have the money for it, but not the will to go shopping. Maybe after work. We’ll see. It depends on whether I have energy after work. Maybe if I can squeeze in a cup of coffee at lunch. Dealing with being bipolar and all the meds that come with it tend to make me sleepier than most.

Plus, I’m grieving.

Everything feels heavier when you’re sad. It’s harder to move in the world when your heart is so full it physically feels like carrying a rock. I didn’t even have enough spoons to go to church, and I feel horrible about it, but this job is taking everything I have. Just everything. I don’t mind, but commuting an hour and a half each way every day is harder than I thought it would be. It makes me so tired, especially in the evening. I roll into the Silver Spring Metro and I drag ass every step afterward.

I’ve got my cup of coffee in hand, Maxwell House because we have a TON of it. Seriously, I think we have enough to last through the Zombie Apocalypse. I just hope it works. There’s a Best Buy on my way home if I get off at the L’Enfant station and take the green line to Columbia Heights. I’ll start there because it’s the closest, and maybe stop by Sticky Fingers for dinner. It’s a vegan bakery/restaurant and their veggie burgers are off the chain. Even though I’m not a vegetarian, I love the way vegan food tastes, and I eat vegan often. When I do, I feel better. So perhaps I’ll go vegan, because there’s nothing wrong with cheating once in a while, but I think vegan is the way to go in order to help the bipolar and up my energy. The right nutrients go hand-in-hand with the right brain chemicals.

But I’m probably going to end up as one of those bacon-eating vegans. 😛

I may have mentioned this before, but veggie burgers with real bacon are INCREDIBLE. Dana and I used to make them at Biddy’s, and we called it “the Hypocrite.” We put them on these huge ciabatta rolls and I can still taste it in my memory. But perhaps it wasn’t just the sandwich, but the memories that come *with* the sandwich.

But I’m making my own new memories, and they are just as precious. It’s in my dreams that I go back to the joys of being married to Dana, because it wasn’t just being married that was fun. It was being married *to her.* I understand those people who dress in black for a year after they’ve lost someone to show they’re in mourning. I don’t dress in black, but my heart is on my sleeve and it doesn’t take much to make me cry, even when I’m sleeping and wake in the night with tears on my face.

Dana wanting no contact makes my life easier, in that I don’t have to care what she thinks, I don’t have to compromise with her on anything… and at the same time, it makes my life harder… but you can’t cross a river and keep checking back to make sure the other person is still behind you. You can’t break up with someone and go to them for comfort in it. It’s just not done. As one of my friends said, “I am glad you are just moving the F on.” Christmas was excruciating, and even then, I survived. Next year will be easier. #fingerscrossed

Dana and my mom have the same birthday, so there will never be a time in my life when I forget. I alternate between good feelings about that, and sadness that I will never celebrate it with her. The other day when I, in a moment of weakness, Googled her, I found a video of her 40th birthday, and ironically it made me feel good. I wasn’t there, but she was wearing one of my t-shirts and my belt, so even though I wasn’t there bodily, I was there in spirit. It was a reminder that there are things she’ll never forget about me, either… especially if she’s still got some of my clothes. 😛

I remember when Meag left for University of New Brunswick, she gave me a t-shirt that she’d worn a lot so that it still smelled like her, and I used it as a pillowcase for almost a year. When it wore out, I cut the Roots logo off of it and intended to sew it on my backpack, but it’s just another thing that was lost in one of my moves.

All of the women that I have dated seriously are women that, for me, define time. And even though Argo and I are just friends, she’s yet another woman that for me, defines time. There was a time when I didn’t know them, and there was a time when I did… and I’ve never been the same afterward.

And let’s go back to the statement of “just friends.” I’ve learned not to minimize friendship, because it is just as sustaining as having a partner. I’ve just got more of them, and they each have a piece of me that no one else does. So to say “just friends” is something I can’t believe came out of my mouth, because right now, my friends are the lifeblood keeping me afloat as I navigate joy, hope, grief, sadness, and all of the other things that tear you apart and bring you back together in the process. There is nothing better than a true friend, because a true friend will love you know matter what state you’re in when you show up. They’re just glad you showed up at all.

I am especially grateful for Prianka, because she is all about self-improvement and gets me excited about it as well. When I am with her, grief fades into excitement about who I will become, leaving my past behind to create great things.

Self-improvement is not a destination, but a journey. And it is amazing to put my feet down on holy ground and walk forward.

Join me, won’t you?

Amen.

I was not fond of CVS last night. I went to pick up my nerve pills, ’cause everybody be wonderin.’ The pharmacy tech or the pharmacist or whatever said that I didn’t have any prescriptions to pick up. I told her that I knew I did, because I knew they’d been called in. She said that it didn’t show in my profile. I said, “I know they’re there. Could they possibly still be on the voice mail?” Then, she printed out my entire profile and took a marker and explained to me all the prescriptions I had were still waiting on the doctor’s approval. Then, she said with a sneer in her voice, “I don’t have any voice mail.” Then she went toward the phone and indeed, the light was blinking. I could see her face change as she heard that the prescription was for Leslie Lanagan. She got a lot friendlier after that, and said, “just give me five or ten minutes.” I was really nice about it, but oh my GOD was she ever rude to me. It was not the day to be rude to me, and she was lucky that my head was pounding so bad that all I could do was stand there with a dumb look on my face instead of popping off.

I bought a Diet Mountain Dew and took my meds as soon as she handed them to me. By the time I got home, my brain was flooding with the right chemicals and my mood had improved considerably… my headache was gone. Samantha was sitting on the porch when the car pulled up to the house (I Ubered because it was raining cats and dogs), so I sat with her on the porch and told her my tale of woe. By that time, I could laugh about it. In the moment, I just kept thinking “if I felt well enough, I wouldn’t be this passive. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

After Samantha and I finished talking, I went upstairs and watched the first episode of Mercy Street, a new PBS show set in Alexandria, the city where I lived the first time around in DC. It’s during the Civil War, but the neighborhoods look roughly the same. Both the state of Virginia and the city of Alexandria have donated money to the show, and it’s fantastic. The only “big stars” in the show are Josh Radnor (How I Met Your Mother) and Cherry Jones (Transparent). Everyone else is an unknown, and this will be their breakout. Fair warning: it is very, very gory.

Then, I wrote to Argo and told her again how much gratitude I have because she helped me remember who I am. It is the biggest blessing of my life to be able to write to her. Yesterday, her words were Gilead’s balm.

I fell asleep to an Independent Lens show called “Autism in Love,” which was also fantastic, but I didn’t make it to the end. I drifted off counting my blessings, and thinking about all the beauty there is the world, just waiting for me to find it.

In some ways, I already have.

I was going to get a haircut, but like every time you tell yourself you’re going to get your hair cut, your hair miraculously decides to be good and you can put it off. I put it off to sit here and write to you. At about 2:45, I need to start heading into DC, because I’m getting together with Pri Diddy and Elena to celebrate my freedom from Dana. I will never forget our time together, but it’s time to bless and release with friends who understand how much I love her and how hard this is for me, but at the same time, know how necessary it is for my own growth and development. I was lonely and made the grave mistake of Googling her. Here’s a tip. Don’t.

I saw a picture that jarred me to the core, and I realized how much this breakup is a good thing for me and not the end of the world as I know it, which I thought for a long time. In a lot of ways, I still think that, but not in a bad way. Endings are often great beginnings, and I think this is one of them. I am starting to chase my dreams instead of hoping they’ll just magically appear. I’m now certified to work with youth, having finished all of the required classes so that now my “Safe Sanctuary” training (or whatever it is that they call it in the UCC) is finished. It feels good to have a certification- something to say to parents that I’m trained to look out for their kids. I mean, I’m an expert. I lived it.

And now it’s time to re-live parts of it to get rid of it for good. I need to find a new therapist and psychiatrist because Vesta does not take my new insurance. I’m hoping to find people near my office, so that I can schedule appointments that don’t require me to miss more than like, an hour and a half of work. If I can keep it to an hour and a half, I won’t lose any hours, because we often stay at the office until 6:30-7:00, because no one will get up in the middle of anything. It’s kind of like working in a doctor’s office, really. There’s no set time to leave, because leaving depends on the project and not the clock. I can’t remember the last time I got up from my desk for more than 30 minutes. In fact, I don’t think I ever have.

Being so involved at the office leaves me very little time to think about my personal life, because I don’t really have one….. and that’s okay with me. So. Okay. When I stop to think of all the changes I’ve endured the past two years, I feel pain that is gut-wrenchingly terrible and I will do anything to avoid it. I am grateful that I get to process on this space so that I don’t have to carry those feelings with me all the time, but in a way, I do. On some days, I can reassure myself that since I’ve written about it, I can bless and release it. It’s like telling yourself you’ve given your problems to God. When I put things into the pensieve, I know they’re there. I don’t have to think about them again that day.

Invariably, though, I read old entries A LOT. I want to know how far I’ve progressed in order to know where I’m going. As I have said many times, this blog is for me, but you are invited… and that is so true it hurts. When I take up my emotional space, not everyone likes it, and I have to put up with friends walking away because they don’t understand that they can say what they want about me, too. That they have every right to have as much emotional space as they do. I’m only one part of the equation, and I always will be…. and actually, there are always three sides to every story. Yours and mine are subjective, and Truth is somewhere in the middle. I put up with friends walking away because this blog is for me. I will be friendless if I have to be in order to know myself, because the more I know about myself, the more I know how I need to change and grow as a person. When I read back over old entries, I can clearly see where I’ve been wrong…. and I’ve been wrong a lot.

I am just tired of wearing the “everything’s perfect” mask I’ve worn my whole life. No, things are fucked up all the way to my neurons. It’s my job to rewire every one of them. The biggest thing I’ve learned is that not everything deserves a reaction or a response. I can just keep reading and drinking my tea. The people who love me will catch me no matter what, because they love me whether I’m right or wrong. And when I’m wrong, sometimes they even love me more, because they want to comfort me when I feel bad about my mistakes. I’ve made a lot of them. I probably always will… but at least now I can move on to new ones.

I can bless and release the old ones, because surely learning from my mistakes will allow greater things to happen in the future.

If that’s not the point of writing about myself, I don’t know what is.

If we fall, we don’t need self-recrimination or blame or anger – we need a reawakening of our intention and a willingness to recommit, to be whole-hearted once again.

– Sharon Salzberg

I wrote to Argo, and she did exactly what I thought she’d do… which is reach through the Internet and make me feel like a badass for surviving.

So there’s that.

I am so lucky. Tears came to my eyes, but there was a napkin on my desk and it was good to feel like I could exhale again for real.

She’s my motherfuckin’ badass out there.

Not yours.

😛

Today was a weird day all around. When I went to my psych appt., they told me they’d tried to get in touch with me to tell me that Leighton had to miss and could we reschedule?  They probably did, but I generally don’t pick up if I don’t recognize the number, and they did not leave a message. So, I show up and they say they’ll relay to Leighton that I’m out of Lexapro and Neurontin, but they don’t, so when I get to the pharmacy, there’s only my sleeping medication to pick up- one that Leighton doesn’t want me taking anymore, anyway, so I have almost six months’ worth in my top dresser drawer. Now I have seven. I wasn’t taking it all that much to begin with, because it was the same drug they gave me at the hospital that JUST. WOULD. NOT. WEAR. OFF. I could function ok, but when it came to actually wanting to leave the house, I’d run out of spoons before I’d even finished getting dressed and getting on the bus to go anywhere sounded less appealing than a root canal. Root canals are awesome. You can feel like you got something taken care of and you can sleep through it the whole time. #winning

The spoon theory is why I think I need a housekeeper, and why it was so important to me back in the day that Dana agreed to take care of me while I was working at Alert Logic… or get a housekeeper to take care of us both if she wanted to go back to work. Commuting an hour and a half each way and trying to prove myself at my job, thus working far more than forty hours a week, has all my spoons up. Today I worked from home, and from 1300-1400 I set an alarm and napped, I was so tired. The Lamictal and the Klonopin are helping until I can get the Lexapro refilled, but they’re just not the same. I’ve put a call in, but no one has called me back and I haven’t had the time to hound them. And even that is partly bullshit because there are no amount of things with which I will get busy in order to not have to make a phone call.

We all worked from home today, so it was especially annoying that I actually did reach out, and they didn’t get back to me, so I didn’t get to go to the pharmacy at lunch.

Which brings me to yet another point as to why the day was weird. I thought I’d be ok with it, but I was not. I thought that having an extra hour and a half to my day would be awesome, but it just interrupted my routine and my mood was terrible. It reminded me of all the days I spent unemployed at my own computer in the silence of the house, coding instead of writing, but still with the complete isolation. My office is silent as well, but hearing my office mate type and just knowing she’s there is a different situation entirely.

The flip side is that I got even more done than I usually do, because of course I type faster on my own keyboard in my own room.

After that, my day got even weirder. I was asked by the church to take a course on identifying abusers within the church. I know you cannot imagine why that would be hard for me. Lines from The Cost of Shame kept running through my head as if my teenage years were happening all over again, because the inappropriateness jumped out at me in a way that it hadn’t before. All the signs I could have recognized had I not been a teenager in the first place, a fact I could do nothing about. All I wanted was for Argo to be right there so I could bury my face in her neck and sob afterward. To be angry with me. To be sad with me. But she was on my shoulder the whole time, and we’d have these little conversations in my head because I wanted to write to her and didn’t know what to say all at the same time. We’re good enough that I could have. I was just speechless, shaking with rage and disgust at the times I could have told, but didn’t to protect Diane….. just like the course said I would. People fall all over themselves when they hear her sing, and they love her as a person outside of that. I learned that abused kids are less likely to tell when their abusers are well-liked because they don’t think anyone will believe them, anyway… and that they don’t report abuse because they think they’re going to be in trouble for whatever it is they think they’ve done, which is nothing, but at the same time, always seems like something. In my case, it was that I wasn’t supposed to be talking to her at all. How could I go back to my parents and admit  I was freaked out when the relationship was supposedly ended for good, anyway? Besides, we weren’t actually having sex, so how could it be abuse (in my 14 year old mind)?

The course also said that one in four girls are molested, and one in eight boys. You know how many abusers get caught?

Three percent.

 

 

Last night I took the train and the bus home, listening to the Diane Rehm show. The entire hour was dedicated to George Takei, Captain Sulu on the Enterprise and basic Japanese badass. He talked about Star Trek, of course, and about (as Wil Wheaton calls him) WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER, but he also talked about Allegiance, his Broadway musical detailing his years in the Japanese internment camps from the time he was five until he was eight. The camp itself was in the mountains of Arkansas, and when they were released, he and his family moved to Skid Row in Los Angeles, with only $25 in their pockets that the government had given them. Because of this, young George was frightened out of his mind and wanted to go back to the camp, because at least there, they were in a Japanese community and were fed meals. George’s father found work at a washateria in a heavily Hispanic neighborhood, and George was lavished upon with food by all his adopted abuelitas. All’s well that ended well, but the beginning of the story was every bit as unsettling as the birth and toddlerhood of Jesus… the difference being that the Holy Family were refugees in Egypt, and George’s family was rounded up by his own government. There is no such thing as competitive suffering, but if there was, George and Jesus would be right up there.

As I am listening to this funny and heart-wrenching podcast, snow began to fall, sticking to the windows of the bus and just blowing everywhere, rendering an umbrella completely useless. I know this because when we got to CCC, the landmark for my bus stop, I got out my umbrella and within 60 seconds it had turned inside out. No matter, though, for it was a great walk, watching the snow as I remembered my first winter in DC. As I told Kathleen, it was like driving through a ticker-tape parade. Additionally, there is a quiet that snow brings with it that other weather doesn’t, especially the first snowfall of the year. There is almost complete silence, because the snowflakes do not make noise as they hit the pavement. It is ethereal and beautiful, especially when it doesn’t pile up, because then you get these mounds of white that do not turn dirty from car exhaust and whatever else the environment thrusts upon it. There isn’t a word in the English language, to me, anyway, that fits snow better than “awe.”

As I was walking, I noticed that one of our neighbors still had their Christmas decorations in their yard, and one of them was a huge inflated Frosty the Snowman. I thought to myself, “well, they can just leave that one up.” I’ll always be cool, but I’ll never be “inflatable Frosty the Snowman covered in real snow” cool. The only thing I’ve ever wondered about Frosty is why he needed a pipe. You would think that smoking would melt his face in, but who am I to judge? Suspension of disbelief is the only possible explanation, and I am okay with that.

After I passed that house, I realized that I hadn’t brought my work laptop home, and I hadn’t set up my VPN yet, anyway, so if the snow was planning on sticking around, I was, in a word, screwed. I was lucky that when I woke up, the snow was gone, and I made it here just fine……….. well, kind of. I had two Uber drivers cancel on me until it was so late that I couldn’t make my train. I finally had the driver bring me all the way to work, not realizing that I would get here a full 20 minutes before everyone else, and I shivered in the cold until the CEO showed up with bagels and donuts. If there is any reward for being here first, it’s getting to open the donut boxes and choose while they’re all pristine.

Because I made incredibly strong coffee, I had a plain cake donut- the most perfect breakfast I could have imagined. Last time, I had a jelly donut, and powdered sugar went EVERYWHERE… on my face, on my clothes, on my desk, on my keyboard…. it was a hashtag notworthit moment if ever I’ve had one. Yes, it was delicious. Yes, there is still powdered sugar on my keyboard.

It looks like snow.

 

I managed to get out of the house this morning looking decent, but I am not wrong about that whole haircut thing. Bedhead has turned into rat’s nest, so this morning it’s Rice baseball cap and huge headphones, which double as excellent earmuffs. It’s cold… very cold… but the sun will be out, which helps. It’s the reason I like DC so much better than Portland in terms of weather. My vitamin D level doesn’t plunge into nothing (six) in the winter. Trying to decide when I’m going to do the haircut thing… not enough hours in the day…. ever. Perhaps I will alternate between Rice and the CIA all week. Although, truth be told, my CIA baseball cap looks like crap because it’s black and everything sticks to it. There are little pieces of paper and dust bunnies all over it. It’s a good look. It’s hard to underestimate how much my headphones help in terms of keeping me warm, though. I listen to Opie and Jimmy, just like the old days (remember that, Randy? 😛 ) except they have a podcast now instead of broadcasting on terrestrial from New York. With the sound coming through, my headphones are even warmer.

Opie and Jimmy are doing a bang-up job talking about “Making a Murderer.” There are several times I’ve doubled over in the Metro laughing so hard that people wonder what’s wrong with me. It is completely NSFW and totally offensive, so if you are offended easily, please don’t download the podcast and blame me because you don’t think it’s as funny as I do.

When I’m actually at work, I skip between jazz, classical, and EDM without words. The EDM makes me type faster, and so does jazz. It’s the Mozart Effect, just without Mozart (some of the time). I had a boss day yesterday. I finished up around 6:30, and remembered to write down where I stopped so that I could pick up this AM without missing a beat. I still didn’t get home until 2100, but I didn’t care. I was still high on kicking coder ass. It’s a beautiful feeling when you hit Execute and nothing goes wrong. In fact, it’s kind of like a natural 5-Hour Energy Shot…. in Sour Apple.

Speaking of Sour Apple 5-Hour Energy, I am wearing a camo t-shirt under the navy Henley that Lindsay got me for Christmas (the Sour Apple bottle is camo). I love my camo t-shirt, but I am divided when I wear it, which is why I always wear something over it. The first is that I was never in the military, and I don’t mean any disrespect. The second is that I am so butch anyway that when I wear it I get thanked for my service A LOT. I always tell the truth, that I was never in the military, but I will pass their thanks along to my friends that were. I think of Stephanie and Volfe every time it happens, and silently say a prayer that they got home safe and sound.

The “so butch anyway” is cute with make-up. Seriously. As I used to quip, “I’m more man than you’ll ever be and more woman than you’ll ever get” when good ol boys used to torment me in high school.

It worked, because there are just no good comebacks when you’re not smart enough to think of them…. and they weren’t. I don’t even remember how I came up with it in the first place, just that the first time I did, I was met with stunned silence and a satisfying feeling as they skulked away wordless.

The femme in me says that I need to go by a piercing studio on Saturday, because I don’t need anything pierced, but I want to go back to titanium ball enclosures for the four holes in my ears. They match anything and everything, and they never rust. I have had one in my cartilege since 1999…. the same one. Oh, no. Wait. I had to replace it in 2001 after a CT scan. The ER didn’t have the special tool to take it out, so they sawed it off.

Good times.

And on that note, my cappucino is done and it’s time to run for the train.

xoL

Every once in a while, a news article scrolls across my feed and I get sick to my stomach about it. When that happens, I try to switch the music to something upbeat, or reach out to a friend, or take a walk. Today, it was reaching out to a friend and becoming so engrossed in work that I haven’t gotten up from my desk in almost five hours. I should really set a reminder, because this project needs to be done quickly, and yet no one expecting that I am actually chained here.

But sometimes, just sometimes, when I am caught in “don’t want to think about it,” coding is a refuge. I love it, except now I have a headache from staring at the screen. I made myself a small cup of coffee and took some ibuprofen to keep going. I don’t have much longer in the day, and I have a goal for what I want to get accomplished, and I have to accept that it may not be possible. I’m not so good at that. I will just keep working until they tell me they’re locking up and then I drag ass in the morning. It’s not that I can’t make it here on time, it’s that I haven’t had enough time away from the office to feel like I ever left.

But did I mention I’m working on a project?

Also trying to overhaul myself. Made the commitment to wear make-up every day because I have a real job now. I know that sounds weird, but it’s really not. As I’ve mentioned before, I kind of look like a fifteen-year-old boy without it. With it, I at least look like I’ve achieved puberty.

Plus, if I make a mistake with my eyes, my glasses cover it.

It’s not just that, though. It changes my attitude, one that I desperately need. It makes me walk a little taller because I know I look good. My face has started to even out a little bit due to the weather, but it’s not there yet. With make-up, I can at least be a smooth poser. I need to get a lighter shade of eyeliner, though, because every morning I look like I’m dressed for black tie. Evening makeup in the daytime. Hilarious.

I also need a haircut. Now that I wear it in a crew cut with the ends shattered to make it look like bedhead on purpose, I have to get it cut more often to keep it looking that way. If not, I just look like I live in Portland. Can’t look like that anymore…. lost my brown hoodie.

The one thing I need to buy that I haven’t gotten already is cordovan polish for my Docs. I might do a layer of black first to develop a patina, but I need the cordovan regardless. I’ll stop for it on the way home, if I leave before the stores close. It will be a miracle if I get out of here on time, because I cannot get up in the middle. I have to come to a good stopping place, or when I get here in the AM, I will have no idea where I am.

Where do I work again? Who are you people?

Yeah, that.

I have spent the last year being broke as fuck with my family helping me make ends meet, and now after my rent has been paid, I have a little over a thousand dollars in the bank. I find myself hiding under the covers this morning, just wanting to hoard it, even though there are things I desperately need. For instance, at some point today I need to go to the pharmacy and get my meds, and I need light bulbs and toilet paper. I will get over it, but right now, spending even a cent feels like giving up a part of myself, as if there’s never going to be any money ever again. In two weeks, there will be, but after the year I’ve had, I am insecure and anxious about it. I know I have job security because I am proving myself every single day, getting better and better at my job because I don’t have to multitask quite so much. I can focus on being a better coder and that takes a single-minded type of endurance. In fact, I feel guilty for being home today, because first of all, I don’t like weekends.

People like me just don’t. An interruption in my schedule for two whole days makes me feel a little bit lost. Church helps with that, of course, but it starts later than my job, so it’s still a routine change that tilts my world a bit. Plus, what I’m working on is fucking interesting, and being away from it is driving me crazy. It’s actually a project, and every minute I’m not making forward progress on it is one more thing I inherently feel guilty about leaving alone until Monday, as if it’s waiting for my touch.

I would also like a maid, and I may look into getting one. With my commute, there are just not enough hours in the day to keep my life at home running smoothly. It would be nice to come home to the laundry already being done and the clothes put away and everything in its place. And surely cleaning one room once or twice a week would be cheap. Let me explain why I feel the way I feel. I leave the house at 0645 and 90% of the time I don’t get home until 2100. I stagger in the door exhausted, laundry piling up because I can’t start laundry that late and or that early. If I lived in an apartment complex where the laundry was separate from my living quarters, it would be a different thing. But the laundry is in the basement, where Samantha and Dom live.

The long and short of it is that I don’t need to justify to anyone why I want anything, but after having Dana keep my life together when she was home and I was at work, I realized how important it was to me. I told Dana that if she got a job, we’d hire someone to take care of both of us. I didn’t want her to think that she was stuck- if she got tired of it, all the better. We’d have someone to take care of the house so we could spend time on each other.

It never happened, of course. As Dana became more and more depressed, the house was a wreck and she didn’t want to get a job. Just slammed in both directions. And by slammed, not placing blame, just an all-around clusterfuck. Neither one of us were getting our needs met and we were both spectacularly unhappy because of it. It is true that I asked her to hold off on getting a job and take care of me while I was working nights, but that’s because I thought if she was working I’d never see her at all. But once I was off nights, I didn’t care what she did. I just wanted her to be happy. And I hope she is.

She agreed with me in terms of working nights, and it was such a blessing right up until it wasn’t. We had this great 1950’s throwback relationship except that Dana never wore pearls while she vacumed… that I’m aware of. 😛

But all good things must come to an end, and the blessing of having a wife that stayed home to take care of me began to feel isolated and yet, didn’t want to do anything about it, either. I thought making her in control of everything, the house manager, would make her feel like I made the money, but she made all the choices about how to spend it. It wasn’t my money. It was ours. The only time I ever thought that was unfair was when she said we didn’t have the money for something I wanted and I found all sorts of fast-food bags in her car. It was clear she wasn’t happy, and it was clear I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t make her get a job, and I couldn’t make her happy being a stay-at-home wife. Dana had to make Dana happy. Dana’s depression, I believe, was the root of her territorial attitude toward Argo, and neither of us could help that, either. The “I need a sounding board other than you” line didn’t work, even though it was the truest thing in the whole world, and not just something you say when you’re trying to leave a relationship.

In that sense, I’m glad Dana is gone for good, because one of the biggest reasons we got together is that we realized that neither one of us could watch the other with someone else. Dana couldn’t let me love someone else in front of her, and my girlfriends always felt like they were second fiddle to my best friend, because we had so many inside jokes where “you just had to be there” that my girlfriends became territorial and hated Dana, too.

It was a turf war, especially with Katharin, who suspected that we were in love and Dana was the whole reason I wanted to move to Portland, when it was Katharin that originally wanted to move there and I was overjoyed to be along for the ride. When we got there, it was a flaming disaster, because the turf war was intense and I hated every moment of it.

The more I think of it, the more I like being single without Dana in my life because I don’t have a girlfriend with whom I have to compromise and I don’t have a best friend determined not to like her. It was the worst with my ex-boyfriend, Matt, because they really liked each other, and yet every time the three of them were in a room together, it was the ultimate pissing contest from beginning to end over who knew me better, and I was just caught in the middle.

They were both so insecure about my love for them that they couldn’t make room for each other in my life, either, when I had the ability to love Matt like a brother and Dana like a wife without crossing wires… most of the time. I was a real asshole because of my abuse and treated Matt like a “dick in a glass case.” As Chris Rock says, “in case of emergency, break glass.” I didn’t with my actions, but I did with my words. I flirted too much, and I ruined a good relationship with him because of it…. because as we’ve discussed, I am not very good at not “being over the line, Smokey.” Another reaon I’m glad I’m single. I don’t have the ability to hurt anyone in that way ever again. As I work through these myriad issues, I see how grossly inappropriate those actions and reactions were, and I get disappointed in myself for committing them at all. My drive to have my skeletons out in the open and my soul clean is fierce, and I am dedicated to it, because the truth is the only thing that sets you free.

Just in case you’re wondering, I don’t think I’ll ever date a man again. It was too hard, because my wiring is bisexual in terms of a lot of things, but communication is not one of them. I didn’t have the type communication with Matt than I’d ever had with any of my girlfriends, and it bothered me. I wasn’t in my comfort zone. Heterosexuality is wonderful……. for other people.

As an old friend told me, and read this with dripping NE Texas drawl, “there’s nothing wrong with a good hard dick…. it’s just a shame there’s a man attached.” My sentiments exactly. Maybe a little shocking, but #truth….. at least for me. I enjoy men, but in dating them, a piece of me feels missing, especially in public, because I got a taste of heterosexual privilege and it sucked and I cried…. Keep in mind this was further than a decade ago. People felt free to make gay jokes in front of me, and I am such a dirty motherfucker sometimes I laughed because they were truly funny, but mostly I felt that when they were coming from that audience, with the sneer of second-class citizenship, they weren’t all that funny. For instance, if a fey gay man had said, “did you hear about the new gay cereal? It’s called Queerios. You pour milk on them and they eat themselves!” I would have laughed my ass off. Coming from a good ol’ boy, not so much.

Matt accepted my bisexuality without question. I didn’t change the way I dressed to look girlier. He looked like he was dating a dyke, and that was okay with him. He didn’t want me to be anything less than who I was, and it meant the world to me. But that didn’t translate to the rest of the world.

And as I shut the rest of the world out, learning more about myself, I know more about who I want to be. Argo shined a light into the darkness of my soul, and when I truly saw it, I wanted to change. Not for her. For me.

For instance, I have never been more into hoarding money than I am now. My financial security means more to me than a new bottle of whiskey or a case of Cheerwine. I don’t want to party. I want to ponder. I’ll give you a for-instance. Yesterday my dad sent me a link to a cheap minivan, and for a moment, I really wanted it. And then I looked on Craig’s List and found the car I’ve wanted for fifteen years at a price I could easily afford if my dad would front me the money, and he said he would. It’s a four-banger Saturn Vue, deep orange and a stick shift. And then I thought about paying an insurance bill every month and I folded. I didn’t even want to borrow money from my dad in the first place, because I was afraid I’d never be able to pay it back, even though that was an unwarranted fear. I would rather wait until I have money in the bank of my own, padding enough to have an emergency fund so that nothing ever bounces, and I can pay cash for everything. However, I let myself dream for a moment, putting expensive speakers in the Vue because the cavern makes the sound MARVELOUS. And then I realized that Craig’s List always has a ton of cars and I can buy one whenever I want. There’s nothing wrong with taking the bus, Metro, and Uber for a few more months. I have debts I need to pay off, almost entirely medical and dental. I want to be debt-free and secure before I start thinking about big expenses like Saturns…. although as my dad quipped, I could put one together in my sleep.

It’s true. I remember everything Volfe taught me, but it’s a bitch not having him here to go look at cars with me. I would give everything I own just to have one more day with him on the driveway.

And through writing, I’ve managed to procrastinate leaving for the pharmacy. It’s time to put on some Mike Jones and get shit handled. Because I have the money.

Yesterday I had a meeting with the CEO to discuss possible social media outreach projects, and it went well. He told me that they’d never had anyone on board truly capable of crafting words. It was a compliment of gargantuan proportions, and I am taking it for all its worth….. which is enormous. At the same time, I am converting databases from one format to another, and having fun with it. Some of it is coding, and some of it is a drag-and-drop interface similar to Access, where you can create joins using a visual relationship.

A join is basically being able to make one report with input from multiple tables…. for instance, what if the name, date, address, etc. is in one table, and what they bought is in another? It’s a lot of fun, both using the software and learning to code, which for me, is nothing more than doing something like learning Spanish. It’s a language, with its own syntax, punctuation, etc…. without the necessity to conjugate verbs. 😛

I’m taking my writing time now because I got to the office before everyone else. I made coffee despite the fact that I picked up a short cappucino on the way over. A little more coffee on Friday morning never hurt anybody. Oh, and right now “Ugly Sweater” cookies are 40% off, so I grabbed two of those. For the uninitiated, they are gingerbread with icing (the kind where the cookie is baked hard and crispy), one of my favorite cookies in the entire world. It was a weird trip in, and having coffee and sugar before I got on the train helped immensely.

I was so out of it that there were people sitting next to me on the Metro wearing these knee length wool coats- one on the red line, and one on the orange. I briefly thought about asking if I could lean on them…. and then I thought, “nah. That’s creepy.” I wish I had a friend with my same commute, one that that would let me lean into his/her coat and sleep until I change trains. Maybe I do. I should send out an office memorandum. “Does anybody ride to Silver Spring who doesn’t mind me leaning into them for warmth?” It would be the weirdest office memo on record, but hopefully some “weirdmaste” would come back my way.

Because I can be weird, please know that I’m joking. My office memos are a grand total of “thanks for letting me know” and “I’ll be there.” I haven’t gotten into the meat and potatoes of creating the company blog, but the first step is to get a static IP at our office for one of the servers and run the web site from here. I know more about WordPress than anyone in the office, having set it up on my own servers and played around with it since it was in beta. We’ve got a ton of old desktops lying around that would make excellent web servers, whether we were running IIS or Apache. My preference would be to set up a Linux box and run Apache because it’s open source, but we’re a Microsoft shop, so I’ll do whatever they need. I have experience in both. Using a content management system like WordPress with its infinite scalability and plugins make life so much easier. WordPress.com is where you can set up a blog for free. The link I posted is to WordPress.org, where you can download the software and put it on your own server. It’s literally a one minute install if you have the necessary dependencies in place first.

I’m advocating for it, because I believe every person and every business should get a web site. You don’t have to turn it into a blog, like I do. You can put up all sorts of stuff, like photo galleries, video galleries, etc. Plus, the WordPress community is awesome. I’ve gotten a lot of support from people finding my blog in the directory, and there’s nothing better than getting likes from other writers.

The thing that’s the most important, though, is that a web site is like a tattoo. Everything you say is for posterity. Future generations will be able to know us, which is much more fun than mere genealogical records. For instance, even if I don’t have kids, Wi-Phi’s children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren will still know who I am…. and not in a surface way.

They’ll know my victories and losses, even the great Waterloo that has consumed me over the past two years. My anniversary with Dana is Feb. 4th, and even though it’s not our anniversary anymore, I’ve spent lots of time thinking about how I’m going to celebrate that day. I do not want to celebrate the fact that we got away from each other. I want to celebrate the years we had each other, and how much joy she brought into my life during those years. It wouldn’t be me to focus on all my anger and hurt, but the joy of our relationship happening at all…. because who says our relationship wasn’t a success? Yes, there were terrible things, but there are terrible things in every relationship if you look hard enough. The fact that we have no contact now does not erase how I feel about her, and shouldn’t. Letting her go is sending her away in peace, and not boiling anger… because what’s the old saying? Being angry at someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die? Yeah, that’s it. The more I release the bad feelings I have about her, the more I am at peace with myself and ready to move into a new relationship down the road. It is making peace with her pieces.

I thank God for all the years our relationship was a success, and for delivering me from that amount of distress. The more I reach out to God to bless and release this relationship, the more I reach out to myself in terms of having and keeping peace. Plus, I learned a great lesson in my fights with Argo. I don’t want to burn this bridge to the ground, even though I probably already have. But there is such a thing as not making it worse.

There’s still no one here, which means the coffee I made is still sitting there, waiting for me. I’m going to reach out for another cup.

Happy Friday, everyone….. because you know that later, we’ll be celebrating “fuck this shit o’clock.”

#kermitarms

 

 

 

 

Yesterday ended with me kicking some coder ass, and I felt like I earned some tape on my glasses as a badge of pride and honor. With my office quiet, I focused intently on what I wanted to say, and wrote out the logic to it. Then, I wrote the code to match my logic, which for once, was right. 😛

I’m at home for a little longer, and then I have to head out to my psych meds appointment. I’m not out of anything, so I can go straight to work afterward, and I’m looking forward to it. I hope there are more coding assignments, because now that I’ve done one, I can’t wait for the next. It’s kind of like binging Netflix. I’m not satisfied with one piece of code- I have to hit play on the next one…. which is apt, because in my coding environment, “execute” IS a play button.

This new learning is exciting, because it gets into a part of my brain I’ve never used before. I’m not a math person, and coding isn’t math, exactly, but it’s not the touchyfeelycreative stuff I generally go for. Even computer support is more creative than coding, because in interfacing with users, it takes creative analogies to get non-technical people to understand what’s going on. I think it’s a good balance, coding and writing, because I am lost in a different part of my brain at different times every day.

I’m trying to prove Aaron wrong, who told me I could either be a good coder or a good writer, but I couldn’t be both. And if there is anything that gets me motivated, it’s trying to prove someone wrong (apologies to those who won’t immediately see that I am joking). So far, so good AARON! 😛 Of course, it would be just like me to debug one piece of code and decide that I’ve got this thing wired. So maybe I’ll hang on until I get a little deeper into coding before I definitively say whether he was right or not. But at the same time, I had success yesterday. REAL success, the kind where I self-fived.

The thing I want to work hard on is something that Chason taught me, which is that code should always be efficient. He was the first one to teach me about separating content from code with web sites, and that no web site should take more than five seconds to load, because people will click away from it if it takes any longer than that. With SQL, that means making database searches where they can pull up exactly what you need quickly so that searches don’t take all day to run. With our databases, we are talking millions and millions of rows, so the more efficient, the better.

I actually love coding my own web sites, but I made the executive decision to go with WordPress.com so that I was never distracted by code- it would all be about writing, all the time. I do not regret that decision, and it makes me happy that I am using a product made by a student from High School for the Performing and Visual Arts, just like me. In fact, he was also in the jazz band, just not at the same time I was. Beat that with a stick. For those who were in Jazz at the time, his name is Matt Mullenweg. Any stories you have about him should be sent to me immediately. 😛

Although just to keep my skills sharp, sometimes I’ll write in Notepad++ and do my own tags and copy things over. It makes me feel smart, anyway. Whether or not I actually am is debatable at times. WordPress makes it where you can flip between WYSIWYG and HTML quickly, but it doesn’t color code to separate tags from content, which is why I tend to use an outside editor. However, I have to look at the code before I publish in WordPress, anyway, because if I don’t, it will often include non-breaking spaces in weird places and leave them out in others. That’s why on some of my entries, paragraph spacing is weird. I don’t tend to go back over my entries and fix mistakes, which is probably a bad thing, but I want everything about this web site to feel stream-of-consciousness, and to me, going back to fix things is antithetical to it. I try to get everything right the first time, because typos drive me ntus [sic].

I’m getting excited about seeing Leighton at 9:30, and it’s only 7:55. It’s been a month, and I have so much to tell him. The last time I saw him, I wasn’t eating or sleeping well, and I was jobless and depressed about it. Now I feel like I’m on top of the world, but not in a manic way. Just in that way that all people deserve to be happy. I am still in the honeymoon period of my job where nothing is ever wrong, and I intend to keep it that way. There has been no one that hasn’t been kind and patient as they’ve explained things, especially when I don’t get it the first time. I really love my company and all they’re willing to invest in me. Speaking of which, we need an IT guy. If you’re local, send me a resume and I’ll pass it on. Or, if you’re willing to just pack up the car so you can be local, even better. I miss my friends from both Portland and Houston. Having you around would be great. I don’t know how much it pays, but I was able to negotiate my own salary, so perhaps it is dependent upon experience, as well. Being an IT guy at my company is not about working with customers, though. Just keeping the network running. We’re a Microsoft shop, and I think most of the servers are 2003. Just a heads up. I’d offer to move in that direction myself, but I just don’t want to. I am learning that it is reason enough.

One exciting thing coming up is that on the 14th, we’re testing our inclement weather contingency plan, so I will be able to remote in from home. That means no commute, and an extra hour and a half added to my day in both directions. We have all the tools we need- VPN, Skype for Business, etc. so that we could actually have face to face meetings from wherever we are. That being said, my own desk in my own room is where I want to be, because I need absolute quiet.

It is in the quiet where my brain thrives, because I cannot think and do anything else simultaneously. Sometimes I listen to music, but most of the time, if I really need to concentrate, I will just use my headphones to block out what’s going on around me- nothing is actually coming through them. Although when I get to my office, most days I turn on one or two of my favorite songs and jam out to get my energy up. She’s So Mean by Matchbox Twenty is my favorite, followed closely by Praying for Daylight by Rascal Flatts and Gin and Juice by Snoop Dogg… mostly because it’s one of the few raps where I know all the words thanks to Twisted Whistle. Dana, Shaun, Dan, and I made it our personal mission to be the loudest mofos on the floor during “my mind on my money and my money on my mind” when they brought the house down at Biddy McGraw’s. God, what I wouldn’t give to have that time in my life back for one day. My perfect day would be working brunch with Dana and Drew, dancing our asses off to Aqua, then having a shift drink and listening to Twisted Whistle and playing darts. In my perfect fantasy, I win.

But one day is all I want, because I believe that overall, everything worked out the way it was supposed to go, except for the fact that I lost my best friend in the process. It fucks me up. Seriously. In no way did I expect grief to hit me this hard all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. What makes things better is that I am now damn near straight edge. The last time I had a beer was a Snakebite at an Irish pub when my dad came to visit, and even though weed is legal in DC, I don’t partake. The closest I get to it is smelling it in the Metro station, and even that makes me a little nauseous. It’s weird when I’m just talking on the phone and I have a coughing fit because I’ve just walked through a cloud of smoke.

Being straight edge makes my actual medications work so much better, and because I feel better, I don’t want to go backward. I don’t want to do anything to derail progress, and my favorite, whiskey, will do it to me if I let it. And I’m not talking about being drunk. One shot and I’m good. I’m such a lightweight that I have no tolerance anymore, and I’d like to keep it that way.

Plus, I’m older now. Any drink I have and the effects are multiplied exponentially, because my acid reflux is through the roof. I even avoid pizza because of it, except on Friday nights. It makes me feel closer to Dana, Aaron, and Argo even when they’re not physically present. I go to a place where you can order a small and a drink for ten bucks, or to a place where they still sell by the slice, because my refrigerator space is not big enough to hold the box if I get extra. Plus, the more I eat of it, the more it is akin to drinking- tomatoes and/or tomato sauce rip up my esophagus in equal measure to alcohol.

Again, all of this new learning. It’s been great getting to know myself, even though 2015 was a new low in learning how much my mental state affects me when my medication isn’t right and I’m not eating well. I need to put myself on a special diet, once I figure out what that might be. There are tons of web sites on controlling hosts of mental issues through diet, and even though I will never be in a space to go off meds, anything I can do to supplement them is good in my book.

There is a lot of trauma in my past, both starting as a teenager and continuing to pick out those relationships as an adult. Those things can be talked away. A chemical imbalance cannot. No amount of therapy is going to create the right levels of neurotransmitters. As my freshman psych professor, Victoria Schultz-Swahr, taught me, medication and therapy are inextricably interrelated. One goes hand-in-hand with the other in terms of true mental illness… not the “I’m having temporary problems” kind, but the kind where there are chemicals missing from your brain.

I continue to feel wrecked that Dana and Argo and my parents went through the brunt of all of it, because I know I caused problems for them that went beyond what any human being should have to tolerate…. particularly Argo, because there was a lot of misdirected anger that never should have been put on her plate to begin with. I am forgiven, but I am not over it… and in some sense, I never will be. Those memories will always be “grievous unto me,” so I have to find a way to move past them without forgetting where I’ve come from. I don’t want to run away from my problems, just find a way to move on so that those memories are on the back burner instead of the front.

For instance, getting lost in work and having no social life outside of it keeps me focused on what I need to do to get myself truly established in a place of joy and gratitude. Learning new things is helping me put one foot in front of the other, not to hide from the skeletons in my closet, but to work through them.

It is a lesson in self-soothing, and I’m getting good at it. External validation is not a need anymore, because I know within myself that I am perfect in all of my flaws and failures, just like everyone else.