grrltastic: (rain)
 It's days like today when I wish I still lived in Austin. Or Iowa. Or anywhere with sun. Because the clouds roll in for weeks at a time and food stops tasting good and all I want to do is sleep, but when I lay down my brain won't shut off and works itself into a frenzy of nostalgia and wanting and everything is just wet all the time.

I remember just before I left Austin I spent some time with a bike friend, Keith. He told me how when he lived in Seattle for a few years he got to a point where he painted a big orange circle on his ceiling and laid on the floor and cried because he missed the sun so, so much.

At the time I thought he was being melodramatic, but I understand now. This weather is oppressive. It makes everyone mean and impatient, myself included.

Summer is coming, I guess. But that promise feels pretty futile in the current moment.
grrltastic: (grandma)
I'm sitting on the sun-faded wooden chair temporarily abandoned by Sarah; a relic of what should have been my 26th birthday party. The 10 a.m. sun is filtered through new springtime leaves of the pecan trees in the front yard, and the concrete porch is glowing in the ambient light. (We have lived in the house for less than a week and the act of sitting on that porch is still very satisfying in a way that only new experiences can be.) I am wearing the fuchsia sweater my mother bought for me wear with the black dress I wore to my grandmother's funeral not even two weeks prior. It is almost time for me to go to bed, but for the time being I am enjoying the Nook I bought for myself to make up for an otherwise abysmal birthday. My first book is Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions because he makes me think of Iowa City.

In the moments surrounding this one I am very, very unhappy. I have spent the past four days acknowledging that I am married to a human being who is incapable of caring for himself, let alone me. I am coming to the understanding that as long as we are together, I will always have to be functional for both of us. All the time. Even when my grandma dies and it's time to move two people's worth of stuff across town but he's too drunk and it's my birthday but nobody cares and then my uncle goes in to hospice for heart failure and half the time I'm so sad I can barely remember how to breathe. Even then.

But in just a few months my life will be radically different. In just three years I will be amazed that only those three years have elapsed between then and now because when, in three years, this moment comes to mind and keeps me from sleeping at night, I will be amazed at how far I will have come.

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grrltastic

August 2017

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