Feb. 12th, 2016

The last few weeks have been good for me. I had my first professional facial (with ear massage! Get yourself an ear massage, holy crap), my team won the Super Bowl, it's been unseasonably warm and sunny*, and a friend who's working in Puerto Rico sent me a plane ticket to visit her. Most importantly, my supervisor at work, who has managed to ignore multiple emails about work-related issues over the months, responded to my time-off request quickly and nicely. Even stressful things like taking my old fat cat to the dentist, and the young half-feral cat for her shots, have worked out well. The coffeemaker broke, but I quickly figured out how to use the old percolator.

I'm also exercising more. I signed up to run a 5K in the summer, so I need to train. The best side effect of this is that it allows me to hang out with my mom without wanting to strangle her. As mentioned last week, she can be bossy and nitpicky in a real condescending way. I didn't want to spring for an interval trainer app, but I am doing the Couch to 5K program, so I can hand over my phone and have her yell out the intervals to me as the stopwatch is going. She gets her exercise AND gets to tell me what to do, and I get to feel like An Athlete. The shin splints don't help, but I'm icing and elevating and stretching, and I think it'll be okay.

And yet I'm completely clenched up, on guard, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing in my life has prepared me for a solid 2 weeks of goodness. Sure, there was that final fight with the guy I broke up with a few weeks back**. And, sure, there's been figuring out how to pay for the cat-dentist and juggling bills, as well as coordinating a relatively last-minute trip to Mosquito Death Land. But nothing is truly wrong, and that apparently scares the shit out of me.

The last years have been intense. In 2012 my dad had a drug-related psychotic break, I was ending an abusive relationship, moving to a new town; in 2013 my business failed, and while I was lucky to find a job quickly, it pays about a third of what I used to make. I found myself spending days off at the food bank and drinking to excess on my friends' dimes. I decided to move back home, but when my dad got out of jail and started threatening my mom, she asked to move in with me up north - then never did, and I needed that money to pay the rent. Somewhere in there I enrolled in, and dropped out of, graduate school. My brother had been picking up the slack on my bills, and indeed on the day I was set to move back home I discovered I'd overdrawn my bank account and credit card both with a mistimed power bill, so my brother, bless him, paid for my entire move at the last-minute (as well as drove the U-Haul).

I've been home almost a year now, and it's been an adjustment, but it's weird how pleasant life is without 3 a.m. phone calls from dad, telling me how the only thing that blocks the government radio waves from entering his brain is public radio; or how empowering it is to pay my own bills, without having to ask someone for just $20 to cover the electricity; or to simply go grocery shopping, instead of standing in line then finding out the bread is moldy. Not to say that only bad things used to happen, and only good things are happening now, but somehow there aren't the huge ups and downs.

Normal feels really good. It's nice (which I'm now convinced is a vastly underrated word), and apparently nice freaks me out. There's no emergency, rare urgency; an ebb and flow of good and less-good, but no terror, no panic... It's completely surreal, but if this is normal, I rather like it. Life is pleasant.

footnotes )

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This has been an entry for [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol. I'm a part of Team Clueless, please also read and enjoy my teammates' entries! [livejournal.com profile] inteus_mika's is here, [livejournal.com profile] prog_schlock's is here, [livejournal.com profile] i_love_freddie's is here, and [livejournal.com profile] ellison's is here.

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