home

I do not feel at home here. I miss home.

I miss my friends and I miss the feeling of history surrounding me. Funny isn't it? Or I find it funny that when I left I was 50, and I left because I was pissed off, not sure at what. But the way I feel now, feels familiar to how I felt then.

I feel betrayed at work. But I have felt betrayed before, so I am actually making it up to myself, because that is what I expect, am used to? So much so that I only see that, even when it is not?

I was betrayed at home with my original family. They fell down on their job. I was left unguarded to a predator living in our home.
I feel vulnerable and unprotected at work. But that is silly. It is a place where I work. I am adult. No predators here. People who do not appreciate and or respect me.

I feel trapped or stuck where I am now. I am in control of my life, as much as any 62 year diabetic can be, my parents no longer make all my decisions, and I am no longer dependent on them, but yet I feel like I did when I was. Or I sometimes feel that way and today is one of them.   I am unable to get out from under the oppression of my life.  The car payment, insurance payment, rent payment, and etc.  The treadmill of life 101.

I am pissed, and hurt and upset that I did not get the BPAC job. I am upset that I do not NOW get to say I am leaving for greener happier pastures. I really want to say those words. Probably for all the wrong reasons. For reasons not grounded in love, but in anger.  I am pissed that I don't get to make more money. I am pissed that I am not seeing a way out...into a safer space.

I espoused a lot of rhetoric last week. It was a great learning experience. Now I have my collateral's ready for the next opportunity. I have had a lot of practice interviewing. I have clarity on my desires. I am focused. I know I want to go home..now. I want to be with my friends. All of it true. But now this week...I am just pissed off about it. Pissed off that it is delayed.


I am not spending my time in the ways that I want to.

I have had fun in rehearsals but they are almost too easy. And only Robby has true feelings about the power of theater. I miss that. I miss the arts. I miss being around activists.

I feel like crap. Did it to myself. Binged. Pot food television. Now I have a cough, and what feels like a permanent headache. Work is a headache, I drag myself in.  When I sit down at my desk I write in blogger, or cruise facebook, or play solitaire on my phone.  I covet the hours when I am alone at work. The only work I enjoy any more is working with donors. That has not diminished.

p.s. I have written something every day since the 29th...for several days in a row. That is a good thing for me.  I hope by this time next week I have added to my daily practice-exercise.