So here we are, near the end of the year, and the old-year feelings have started in again. Part of the blame rests on the weather; it has been raining steadily all day, and promises to leave more before the clouds move on again. I don't know if I have SAD or what, but there is something about the time of year that makes me want to curl up and sleep for the most part. That "raccoon" thing kicking in hard and heavy again.
I went down to the creek this morning, dressed in poncho and black boots (no socks) to study the water. It was the color of the red clay that no doubt all the rain has driven from the banks, and higher than normal. I found another heart-rock; this one is smaller than the others I have found, and darker brown. I will have quite the collection by the time I am done.
I went on a rain-walk because I needed to think. There are things that are happening I did not forsee last year at this time, things strange and complicated. I wished for the weirdness to return; it is starting to make its appearance known once again, and this time, I am not sure what to do with it. But one step at a time; one day at a time. One solution at a time. All I succeeded in doing however, was wetting the ends of my pants-legs. There are things to do before I can make a decision, and these things must be put off for a time. Hurry-up-and-wait all over again.
I have managed to get a few things done; not least was the receipt of my birth certificate, which I hadn't seen before. I have taken a few more odds and ends to Goodwill. Last night I thinned out some things that could be thrown away (mostly paper), and pulled out some things that can be put in the neighbor's "burn barrel" (bills, bank statements, etc) The intent of all this is to condense and reduce, to make things easier to transport (or store) if/when the time comes. My next major goal is to get that passport photograph done, and see what else I need for it.
This day ends what passes for a "weekend" for me, as I am mostly reduced to working on weekend mornings. I can't complain as I would rather open than close anyhow. Still, this is not what I wanted to do with my life. Perhaps this aspect will change, as well.
I turn 41 in January. Time is ticking. It is moving, even when I am not.
Thanksgiving slipped through almost unnoticed. The Megs was down, and she was somewhat nonplussed to find I'd already put up the Christmas tree. But really, she'd shown almost no interest in it last year; so I felt it was safe to do so. We got a new tree this year. it's one of those pre-lit things, but I still put lights on it. Christmas will no doubt be a quiet day for us. The store is closed that day, and Dent is off all next week. It will be all I can do not not express my irritation while he is home.
Part of the problem is the changes are in fog. Have I changed? Or has he? Or have we both, and gone in different directions? If this is the case, he cannot see it, and this will only make the end harder to accomplish. He is trying, but there comes a point where trying just isn't enough. Call it chemistry, or feelings, or just the ability to get it together. It just isn't.....there...any more.
I honestly don't know what to do. Talking does little difference; it is in one ear and out the other, or he shuts down completely, shuts it out. I had to have an emotional breakdown to get him to listen to the last "talk" we had; I refuse to do this again.
I am still a bird beating against the glass; although I am starting to see the crack at the bottom, where someone is maybe trying to open it for me. Only time will tell if that gap becomes enough to wing my way through.