universe bonks girl on head, film at 11

I worked a little late yesterday trying to prepare some of the tasks I’ve been asked to do that I don’t know how I’m going to finish in time, or at all. I’m sure that my psychological state is part of it, but things seem to be getting steadily worse and worse at this job as each day passes. I left the office in a terrible mood – frustrated and angry, but also deeply sad. So far this is one of the worst months I’ve had since the awfulness that was 2005, and I can’t wait until it’s over, even if things turn out badly for me at that time.

I drove to the yoga studio, and sat in my car in the parking lot trying to decompress. I could see Kathleen and a woman who is a teacher but also a very good friend of Kathleen’s sitting outside the studio and chatting. I knew they would want to chat with me, and I knew Kathleen knew that I’d had job interviews that morning (Facebook). I didn’t want to talk about anything that had to do with my life. I was too confused and too fatigued.

I went in the studio, changed clothes, and came back out. I managed to get away with a few noncommittal sentences and then changed the subject. Really what I wanted to do was sit there and enjoy being outside – it was a spectacular day, breezy and sunny and not humid – and so often have Kathleen and this lady had conversations roll on without including me in the slightest that I couldn’t understand why they were picking today to want to talk with me.

After a time they both went inside, and I looked out at the traffic. The studio is in a little plaza on the corner of one of the major intersections in that part of Annapolis, very busy and loud. The breeze blew and I looked at the squares of sky I could see between the signage and the power lines. And I felt a sudden desire to escape. I felt hopeless, that antique feeling that nothing is improving and the struggle will just go on and even though there are things I haven’t gotten to do, this struggle is so painful and bad that I’d rather be doing nothing at all forever than have to keep doing this. I was shocked to find this feeling inside me, after so many years without it, and hoped that it would pass in a few days.

I went inside. Class started. We did clock arms, and I struggled. We did side plank pose, and I struggled. We did half moon, and I felt some grace within the struggle. (What a learning pose that one has been. Maybe it’ll be my next column.) And, at the end, we did pigeon quad stretches against the wall, and I met the goal I have been struggling for since the middle of last year – I found myself holding my foot with my arm over my head and my foot was touching my head. It was there, suddenly. Only for a moment, before my toes slipped and I had to try to reach for it again and she told us to switch sides so I didn’t get to, but I did do it.

There, said the universe. If you’d run out into traffic, you never would have met that goal, and today was your day, girl.

I went home. BF was there. He listened. We watched the first half of Stardust over dinner (I got home too late for us to watch the whole thing before bedtime), and it dazzled me. I’m sure many people feel this way, but I often feel like Gaiman is writing just for me, just for what I want to read (and in some cases watch). He’s so wonderful.

In the movie, one of the main characters is a young man who works in a shop. This girl he thinks he loves calls him a shopboy, derisively. Later, another nicer character says that she’s watched a lot of humans (long story) and she knows the difference between a shopboy and a boy who happens to work in a shop for the time being. BF repeated this to me, later, that there’s a difference between paralegals and women who happen to work as paralegals for the time being. I didn’t know what else to do but hug him and tell him I loved him – but this meant so much to me.

The Daily Om I read this morning nudged me to write about the conflict I feel as I’m looking for another paralegal job. I will work on this post today and put it up tomorrow, hopefully.

Also, this time I really mean it: I’m going to stop responding to all comments. Doesn’t mean I love y’all any less, I swear. I just keep finding myself responding for no reason other than to respond, which is not honest.

TGIF. Srsly. What a rotten week.