Tense

     Early in the AM. I love it. The silence is indulgent. There’s a peace to the air, the atmosphere, that is steady, that sets itself to defy the impossible. I could wake up everyday at 4:30 a.m. just to experience this kind of possibility. Sometimes I find it inside myself. Many times, I need the outward inspiration. I take a lot of inspiration from nature. Last night I performed a full moon ritual. It’s a great thing to do for yourself if your interested. I’ve simplified it, not having sage to burn or a big elaborate fire. My son and I simply write down all the negative, hurtful and problematic issues in our lives (be they fear and low self esteem or bad grades and unemployment) on little scraps of paper and burn them, one by one over an old pot under the full moon. Then we cast away the ashes and allow the universe to take over, to help us cleanse, to hear our needs so they can be filled. Obviously no change happens without a change in ones choices and actions, but this ritual helps to remind me what to focus on. I believe it helps the universe know what concerns me the most so it can send me subtle reminders. And it does. In the visit of a hawk, or the appearance of a deer, in the “Kaw” of a raven and the tickle of a cricket’s crawl up my arm, the earth is always speaking to me. It wants to converse. If I let it, if I listen, it has a lot to say.

     I’ve felt a horrible loneliness these past few days. One that isn’t founded on my lack of social activity. It’s a deeply imbedded sense of isolation that I’ve struggled with in the past. It’s not that I feel people can’t relate to me. It’s that I feel a pull toward someone I can’t seem to find and it’s frustrating me. I suppose I should reel myself in a bit, try to figure out what I’m looking for. But I know. I know all too well and I’m sure that I’m torturing myself with it. I believe my friend would argue, and rightly so, that I do this in order to escape all my daily challenges; ones I should be facing in order to improve my life. I’m sure this is part of it. I’m sure she’s right and that If I were more focused I’d be moving along at a much more steady pace. My gate through life tends toward the choppy, asymmetric really. I’m sure it’s my doing, I’m just not sure how to fix it. Self improvement has been an interesting string of experiments for me. And funny as hell, looking back. But today I’m in a vulnerable but brave mood. The contradictory kind that tends to tantalize me out of my shell despite myself. I think the day is going to be promising.
     I have a to do list my friend constructed for me. I’m following it because I have faith in her abilities and following advice from a friend makes me feel like they are right beside me. It works against that nagging sense of isolation, so it’s a two-bird killer 😉 My day will be productive, whether or not there are any substitute teaching jobs available. It’s nice to have a list. I’m not good at making them, but I’ll follow studiously. 
     My worries about my unemployment have only increased with finding this apartment and I know that this ever present anxiety is what is adding to my feelings of unrest. I was homeless, and now I’m not, but I will be again if I don’t find steady employment, or a way to bring in a steady income. I’ve been struggling with this and the struggle does not seem to be ending. I DO want it to end. This is definitely NOT one of those examples of intentional, though subconscious, self-torment. Nope. I definitely want a steady income. I’m in a muddle and I’m tired of it. Sorry I can’t be more motivational here. 
     Every morning I wake up closer to next month’s rent being due.  And I’m still not steadily employed. I don’t have a fall back. Even my car is starting to break down now. Failure isn’t optional at this point. But I want to give up. I’m tired of the struggle. There’s always that temptation of throwing in the towel, curling up in a ball on the street and allowing myself to slowly disappear into nothingness. But my son is beside me. And so is Shelby. And they need me. So I get up every morning and try to pull it together. And sometimes I really don’t want to. Because my hands are raw from constantly pulling and my back aches from always pushing and I feel like a God-Damn pack mule instead of a women and I hate it. Each day there are new lines on my face and my knuckles get a bit more twisted. I’m aging but I’m not making any progress and keeping it together for the sake of my little family has become the only thing that motivates me. And that’s dangerous. Because I’m loosing my sense of self. I’m loosing my dreams, my identity, myself, in the flurry of bills and must do’s that has become my day to day. And I’m done. This is the talk of a middle-aged women, not a thirty something. Shouldn’t I have more to show for myself by now?  I don’t feel lost, I feel fucking stuck. And I can sense what I want, see what I desire but it looms before me like a tease, a mirage, nothing substantial or solidifying. And my immediate view is bleak. 
     Not the best of mind sets for the beginning of a new day. But the good news: I’m getting out of bed anyway. I’m even getting into the shower. And most likely I’ll spend the day getting done the things I have to in order to make every inch of progress I can make today. It’s frustrating as hell. But it’s better then stagnation. And I refuse to give up.
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