A Roll in the Universe

September has been a month where things came to a head for me. I don't function well when I'm tired. Ever since childhood, I've always gotten cranky when tired. After a weekend of little sleep, I got cranky at work last Monday, and the person I was cranky with (a regular co-worker) took it so badly, that my bosses were told. So I had a meeting with my boss and his boss last Tuesday. Two very nice men, but I found it scary. I was afraid of losing my job. I had a day off the day after. A day to reflect and rest up. But I found that I was so upset, I couldn't face going to work. This year hasn't been much better than 2004. I tried to distract myself in March with my trip to California, but too much new and different plus the loss of my cat meant I didn't get my batteries recharged like I needed. I was looking forward to a peaceful summer vacation where I could completely suit myself, only to have it spent attending Grandma's funeral and to her affairs. ...

I thougt today would be busy, but no. So I'm just waiting to leave for the weekend. The whole department is going on a weekend trip (seminar) so I'm packed and ready to go. For the first time I don't feel like I forgot anything ('cept my camera, but sometimes taking pictures is an interruption, not a pleasure). I got tired last night, decided to go to bed early and instead get up early and pack in the morning. Even though I bugged myself during the night by waking up and saying to myself, "Do this! Remember that! Pack those!" and thought that maybe I should just get and pack already, I stayed in bed until the alarm went off a little past 5 am. I got up, did my usual doddling (which includes e-mail and news), and had an easy start to the day. Eventually, I was fed, showered and dress and tossing things into the living room that I wanted to remember to pack. The night before I had tried on clothes and had those picked out. To my own amazement, I was packed ...

Shutting a door hurt. It really hurt. I breezed through the first 6 weeks after Grandma died, only to crash and burn something awful last week. By the time Friday came around, I had found hell again, that old familiar short-tempered and sulky me, and I just wanted to wall myself in. A friend called Thursday and asked me to visit with him and his family for the weekend. I accepted. Good mental hygiene. So, knowing I was going to be gone from Friday evening on, I bought a fresh bouquet of flowers and went to visit Grandma's grave. She wasn't there. I mean, I go to her grave, and Grandpa's right next to it, and I can feel them there, I can talk to them and they answer back, and it keeps the loss and loneliness from getting under my skin. But they weren't there this time. They were gone, moved on. That hurt as much as giving up the key. No, it hurt more. I felt entirely homeless and abandoned. So I crashed, and kept spiralling down. I called my friend Friday n...