Thick Fog & Thin Skin

I think I may need to see a therapist again.  I may have said that recently, but my brain is glitchy so give me a break.  In any case, the things and the amount I am eating are out of control, and I’ve gone from getting out of bed by 7:00, and having the energy to do things, to not getting out of bed until after 9:00, and after feeding the dogs, having my smoothie so I can take my meds, and settling in to my recliner, I’m pretty much ready for a nap.

I really don’t want to be awake, right now, at 1:48 in the afternoon.  But there is housework to be done, and I don’t want Drew coming home to a mess.   I’m really tired of being alone.  At least when we lived in California, I knew my neighbors.  My family and friends were a phone call away.  I know they still are, but it’s not the same as being able to jump in the car and visit.

I’m now more than 48 hours free of Facebook.  It’s been nice not feeling the angst of needing to fix the universe.  I realized that, this morning, that when things are broken, I feel like I am personally responsible for fixing them.  Of course, there’s no way I can fix it all, so it just contributes to my feeling of being overwhelmed and useless.

Maybe that’s why teaching was so hard for me.  Teaching those kids algebra seemed so insignificant knowing the other things with which they were struggling.  And that was just the kids who confided in me.  So many others were hurting and it was apparent, but what could I do for them?

Yesterday, in fact, was the anniversary of the suicide of a colleague.  I’d worked with him for six years, but never really got a chance to get to know him aside from lunchroom conversations.  Then after I’d quit working there, a good friend of mine, Amy, who also worked there, called me and asked me if I wanted to meet at a brewery near the high school to have dinner with her and Brian, the colleague.  She explained that he was going through a divorce, and she thought it would cheer him up.

When I got there, it was very apparent to me, that this wasn’t their first outing, together.  It was obvious that he was mad about her, and from our history together, I was pretty sure Amy was mad for him as well.

As the evening progressed, he talked of his divorce and how this was something he’d never imagined could happen.  The things he told me sounded so much my what happened between me and Dave, it was actually giving me anxiety to listen to it.  I tried to convince him that the divorce was probably less about him and more about her.  He listened and thanked me for my input.

I got his number, with the intention of checking in with him in a week to get together again, just to keep his head out of the fog.  One week later, it was Aimee’s birthday, and Brian had driven out to a lake and gassed himself in his car.

That’s when she spilled it all to me.  How they’d been teaching summer school together and had been sneaking off to various utility closets to fool around on breaks.  I sat with her, along with several other colleagues who had arrived to comfort her through the episode.  The way she sobbed and talked, scared me, so when she was out of the room, the rest of us agreed that we needed to take her to a hospital.  She was in the hospital for two weeks.

Our friendship has never been the same.

I seriously felt like I’d fucked up, somehow.  Why had the universe brought this man into my world to recognize his fragility, only to take him out before I could do anything to prevent it?  Why?  What was the point?

As it was, I was in the midst of my early health crises.  I’d been told I might have cancer, but did not have an official diagnosis, yet.  The fact that I was preparing to fight tooth and nail for my own life while having to fight her to keep her alive, just pissed me off.

I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not a fucking superhero, and that’s ok.  But it just doesn’t feel ok.  I just want the world to be free of pain… as I sit here wallowing in my own.  I think this is another whiny one.  Sorry.