Get It Out

Well, he has been gone for 10 days and is due back so any emotion that I have pent up must be let out before his arrival. He does not take it well. Rather, he doesn’t like to see it. A reminder, I suppose, of his consequences but I work very hard to keep things very even in tone. I fail, as one must, now and then. But considering the situation I think losing my mind 3 or 4 times is quite reasonable.

It has been a day of ups and downs. I spent most of those 10 days packing and cleaning – and you would think that covered a lot and yet there is so much more. It took half a day to clean the old grout from the upstairs bath – yes, they put grout right to the tub-line instead of a proper caulk. And then put caulk in other areas on top of the grout. It was an awful mess. So I took hammer and chisel and carefully removed all the mess and properly caulked the whole thing. It isn’t a professional job but it is, by goodness, clean. And that is saying something in comparison to what was…anyway, that took two half days alone. I also re-caulked the master tub – again, hacking out the old, cleaning it all, then another day to replace it.

In the other hours I’ve been looking for work and I must say I never thought it’d be so hard to find a role suitable to my skills. And yet…what are they? The young bucks no longer need an assistant to make their travel arrangements or book their meetings. No, they are all quite handy at that. I am a buggy whip, I’m afraid. He has said that my reach was exceeding my grasp. Or read off roles in which the person is obviously covering 3 roles with 1 job and you will never do any of them well. Others have sent obvious scams – “make thousands with Amazon ads!” – strange that you cannot find anything about the company online, though, huh? Sigh. I try to be grateful – kindness and gratefulness are the songs of the universe. They resound and bring you good things, at least that is my feeling on the matter. So I have worked very hard to express those things over the sounds of my fear and sadness.

If I let myself rest for a moment the terror of my situation is nearly unbearable. I tell you, dear ether-linked friends – I haven’t been this afraid for my future since I was a kid. Like Mulder I want to believe – I want to believe that this past week was a wash due to the holiday and I ought not to have expected to hear anything. I want to believe that the many roles I’ve applied for will turn up at least one or two calls. I haven’t interviewed in 15 years – I had hoped to have at least one or two “freebies” happen with roles I didn’t think I’d get anyway. But I think it is my age…I suspect people are looking at it and determining my time in role won’t be very long so why invest in training me…

If I am honest with you that is the one thing that makes me the most angry about my situation. If he had merely indicated that this COULD happen I’d have taken some sort of damned training so that I’d have a hope of a job. But no…retire, he said. Spend the pension, we agreed. Use the 401k for real materiel. And now…well, I am living by my wits and even those are failing me. I can manage to have some hope and a smile but then I look for a role and the smile fades, the hope finds it has an appointment elsewhere, and even my wit says it’s got nuttin’.

So I pack another box that I hope I’ll see again someday, somewhere else, and I fear that even that might not happen – that maybe he won’t pay that bill and the contents will be sorted through by hasty hands…you see? If one thinks too much about every thing that could happen it is just an avalanche of horror. Of terror. Of failure.

That is why I have to let it all out now so that when he arrives I can be stoic and pleasant. I watch from my perch all the people driving home from work in cars that move, with a payday pending, and a home that is theirs for more than a month. I envy every bit of that security and confidence. I know that it can be a lie – one might be in the midst of their own trials and travails. Maybe that car is barely reliable and they can’t make the payment. Perhaps they are living with their parents after their own failure and merely leaving every day with a pretense of work. You never know the pains and troubles that others are bearing. It is best to not wish for anyone else’s life.  But I could wish for a time machine to take me back 4 years – to let me get the training I needed and not leave a good job…to let me have options instead of this…panicked thrashing about when I ought to be looking at a not too distant retirement.

Oh, what a fool I was to trust any man with that decision. I know better. I have trusted them before with these life choices and it has failed miserably every time but…they were suspected miscreants. In my heart I knew they were not to be trusted. But I trusted him. I believed he was Other. Such a fool…and I am not well enough to do this over again, I think. It all feels quite…pointless. So much struggle and fear and for what end?

I try each day to avoid these things, force the ideas from me with a wave of my hand and a turn of my cheek. I go outside for the wind and the sun to burn the tears from my skin and chill that heat of anxiety to a mere simmer of uncertainty. How I hope that there will be a time in the spring when I can re-read these words with a smile and appreciative laugh from a better vantage point. I try very hard to visualize just that each morning – a new home, a new job, a new view…I set my feet to the cold floor and tell myself that it could be the day – this could be the day that it all changes and I am okay. Reason enough to get out of the warm bed and get on with the day. But the afternoons are hard…when all the job searching and packing have exhausted me and the dogs are waking and ready to be outside…it is then that I fade fast and look around me in stark fear.

It is over. This idyll, this island in a rough sea – it is over and gone. It feels sometimes as if it will all crumble to dust like some special effect in a movie and I’ll have just the boxes stacked around me. I want to wail to the universe a pitiful howl of WHY. The ever-echoing question that we all send out for a million reasons. Why this? Why now? Why me? But there are no answers to be had. There is not a thing I can do other than what I am doing. To stop is to die. So it is motion, activity, thinking, pushing, pulling and daring myself to Not Give Up. Not yet. There is time enough for surrender. No need just yet. But that restful darkness is so tempting. I am so very tired, after all. And there is yet so much to do…

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