Tuesday, June 21, 2011

cycling trivialities

I ‘ve just gotten home from work. I took the opportunity of being wired (with five-hour-energy and a few cups of coffee on my work’s dime) to clean out my car this morning. I’m starting to realize what a surreal existence all this is. It hits me every now and again—usually as I’m driving back home and enjoying how beautiful North Dakota is. I think. What. North Dakota? Am I really in… North Dakota? The state that everyone forgets? Am I really, this girl who wants to be a film writer, am I really working in a glorified nursing home? And I’m working nights, no less. Nights. Which means I see more 6 AM’s than I think I ever have in my 23 years of life. South Heart is peaceful enough as it is, but coming home to South Heart in the wee hours? Silent. Except for the farmers out on the outskirts, not a stirring from the sweet little houses on their fenceless lawns. No one to judge me as I cleaned out all of the garbage that had accumulated in my car over the past month or so.

I really like this life. And I don’t. And I should probably stop wondering why I do or do not (there is no try) and just get on with it. Still, I can’t help but be afraid that I’ll never be able to get on track, and ahead, and write and have a real career. I get scared that I’ll be stuck doing caretaking all of my life. That really does frighten me because I don’t think I can take it, and I WILL be a caretaker to my death, probably, for my sister (and likely my parents), so I REALLY feel like the extra emotional weight is unnecessary. On the other hand it’s good to have a back-up moneymaker for when times are tough and the writing is not selling—a scenario which I know will repeat itself throughout my life even if/when I may be moderately successful. Not as a back-up career, mind you, but a quick job. Caretaking? Experience in spades. What do you need? I got old lady, down syndrome, CP adults annnnd a lot of autistic kid. Any of those work for you? Hopefully my back-up career will be teaching. But oh. Biting my nails and praying I get to that point. Just sighing and telling myself it will be okay. I will not be here forever. And it’s just fine for now.

Which it is. Which is probably why the other half of myself feels so at peace. I really enjoy the scenery here and the people are very interesting. I feel pretty free and independent and hopeful, I feel much less restless and alienated and depressed than I did in California. I feel like progress is happening. I like everyone at my workplace and I’m pretty sure they all at least enjoy me somewhat. I don’t feel pressured here (except money-wise, even with the nice amount I’m regularly making I just seem so behind), I don’t feel teary and panicked. I have a weird but relaxed living situation with a good roommate(s). Still. What if it gets to the point where I realize finally that I can never make it work? Where I throw in the writing towel? What if I suddenly acknowledge that maybe I never will jaunt over to Europe or I’ll never be as pretty or as good at German or playing any kind of musical instrument as I want to be? That’s scary to me. I’m used to failing. I’m so scared of it. I think that’s a large part of my depressive behavior, actually, the paralysis that the fear of failing causes me. I think that’s why I crumple on my bad days and curl up in bed and hope that time just passes and leaves me behind.

I am scared of so many things.

Also. This being in love thing makes me very uncomfortable. All right. I’m not in love, obviously, but I am admittedly smitten (smited!). Which, if I were a normal person I could just let slide, but of course I’m myself and the feeling takes me to that existential place that actually has nothing to do with the object of crush affection (yesiknowmenarenotobjectsokay?) but everything to do with how I process things and what is significant to me and how I view myself. I cannot let things just be what they are, they have to be meaningful. Everything is so heavy in my mind (thus the failure fear I suppose) that I just spasm. And I don’t mean the general girl assessing boy behavior thing—he did that, that means this etc, I mean the meaning of just my own interest. The meaning of how I relate to said object (and everyone else), the big picture. The too-big picture. When in reality I can look at this person and understand that I’m not even all that interested. He’s not perfect or perfect for me, so far as I can tell. But that gets all clouded by my inquiry into why we’ve collided in the first place and where I want to be in my life. And of course, the too-big picture of lonesomeness. This evening I had a bizarre, intense moment of attraction to this guy where I just wanted him to pay attention to me so BADLY (yeah. 2nd grade? What?) because… I just didn’t want to be alone. When I thought of that, I jolted out of the moment. That’s what it boiled down to. I didn’t even want him (not that I don't find him attractive, I totally do), I just didn’t want to be by myself all of a sudden. I suppose if I didn’t have someone to project all of that feeling onto I would just be feeling lonely.

Since I’m being so embarrassingly, damned honest into the echoes of cyberspace (does anyone say cyberspace any more?) , I will admit that sometimes it’s difficult to look around and see how by myself I am. And how normal it seems for other people to be loved and all of that. Not that I am unloved, but that I don’t have someone to love me (different things). I know we all want that. But it still feels very far away from me. I look at the people I know that I think are so deserving of that and those that have that and I don’t seem to be in the same category. Odd out, somehow. And I don’t think—when I’m honest—I really, really don’t think I’m one of those people who is going to find that person and get married and have him forever until we’re old and crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever have kids, and I’m actually okay with that. [I get a little worried sometimes about the idea of myself middle aged and looking after everyone and still feeling like a failure, but I really am OK with the whole no soul-mate thing]. I can be alone, ultimately. But it would be… a huge relief to have someone for just a little while. Doesn’t everyone deserve that? Maybe it’ll screw you over when it ends, but at least it was there once.

And now I’m sitting here crying.


edit. well. that's somewhat embarrassing but that's what you get when you never sleep. i'd do a backspace on it, but i'd feel dishonest.

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