Compartments

Twelve in12

 Reading 

The Lance Thrower ~ Jack Whyte

Pillars of the Earth ~ Ken Follett

Finished

I used to be able to compartmentalize.  I used to have to be able to compartmentalize.  I couldn’t let my school work get in the way of my oboe practicing or my boy drama get in the way of my school work or eventually let my professional work get in the way of my drama or oboe.  Everything had its own box.  I could keep things separate because I had to be able to keep things separate.  Of course, this didn’t always work.  Things would become fuzzy and run into each other.  So I had to work at keeping things separate.  Even when I failed, I still knew where things were supposed to go.  I knew how to reorganize my life and return things to their own little boxes.  I knew how to compartmentalize.

And now…  Now I feel like someone dumped all my little compartments out onto the floor.  But they didn’t stop there.  They destroyed my compartments.  They broke apart every line and distinction and ripped up all my labels.  Everything runs into everything else.  I can’t focus on anything because everything is happening and feeling at once.  I can’t turn off anything because there are no more compartments.

I need my compartments.  I need my life to be separated out again.  I need to have lines and distinctions and distance.  I need perspective and a way to grab hold of something and deal with it singularly.

I’m really not sure how to do that though.  Cause those compartments are gone.  Somewhere between Ohio and Michigan, all my compartments have been destroyed.  And I’m just barely treading water in this sea of Very Important Things.  Everything touches and interacts and impacts.  I can’t make one move without affecting everything else.

I really… really… really need a place of my own.  I have no sanctuary.  I have no home.

And I really… really… really need a job.