That's what the card I bought T. this afternoon says. Inside it says, sorry.
The day started off ok. I cleaned up our container garden for winter and changed the screens to storms in the front door. Then I started hanging curtains and wasting time and everything that's been making me mad recently just kind of bubbled to the surface. The high point was probably me slamming a curtain rod to the floor and making an unnecessarily jerky comment about one of T.'s family members. Nice, huh? So much for chivalry.
Finally I got myself together enough to get out of the house (civilly) and went for a six-mile walk. I kept walking until I'd calmed down and my head had cleared, and then I stopped by a pond, lay down, and let the sun soak into my face.
Lots of things have me on edge right now. I have a lot of work-related pressure, which ordinarily isn't a big problem for me. But at the moment I'm sick to death of my work. It feels like the ultimate good-girl profession, like something I chose in order to please my family and isolate myself from the world. I look at the series of hurdles ahead of me for promotion and career success and I just think, fuck it. I'm so over this treadmill. I was valedictorian of my high school class and honestly? I regret it, in a way. I regret using my being smart as a way out, as a way to be acceptable and to connect with people, as a way to 'deserve' my family's approval. I regret getting caught up in the cycle of rewards and achievement. In high school I also had a manual-labor job and I kind of wish I'd stuck with that, or something like it. Landscaping maybe, I'm good at that. Anyway it makes it hard to muster the energy to do anything work-related, while the deadlines pile up and I wonder, what am I doing?
Then there's family stuff. Not getting into that here for privacy reasons. Just adding it to my list of complaints.
And then there's the sense of loss and wasted time. I look at my new friends and acquaintances and I feel so incredibly happy. But how did I spend nearly thirty years with 'friends' who mostly actually didn't really like me? What was wrong with me? Why is this path, this life, this identity, so hard? (Cue violins, I realize this is a giant pity party, but it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.) We went to a performance the other night that included the seemingly superficial line, imagine your life without homophobia. But as a friend pointed out, in fact, our lives would be unrecognizable had they been lived in a world without homophobia. Using my analogies from the other day, what would my youth have been like if my family had said, in addition to oh she's lefthanded, oh she has a boy soul? What if we didn't have to worry about random violence and harassment for how we look? What if T.'s colleagues' curiosity really felt only benign, and not like I was on the boundary of their definition of fully human? I think spending time with other butches and genderqueers etc. has really made me feel this stuff so much more strongly, partly because of the contrast with the sheer joy and calm and connection of hanging out with them, and partly because I see what they've been through and go through, and it's something different to see your own anxieties and heartbreaks walking around in front of you, lived by someone else, too.
And I haven't had enough time to work out, either. And I'm hungry. OK, with that, I'm off to pick up some pizza and open a beer. If you've made it through this post, I have the feeling I'm going to owe you a "Big Jerk - Sorry" card, too.