Groundhog Day – The Reluctant Grownup

It’s been a difficult, anxiety-filled day. I spend several hours over the past several days job searching, and today it caught up with me. Several of my friends have told me it can take up to a year to find something, and intellectually I understand this, but after two months I feel . . . Feelings, which my intellectual understanding doesn’t touch. Its the trying on of a new identity, again and again – I’m just exhausted by the options. I’m luckier than most – at least I’m getting paid during this process, and still working, and supported. But it has been trying.

I do have an interview next week, and I had one last week, and I may have two offers at the end of the week to choose from. I just don’t know if I want either, and don’t know if I can turn them both down and how long I can wait, and the emotional weight of deciding different ways of life is pretty heavy. I’m also trying new thyroid treatments, which sort of mess with my heart rate, which also messes with my anxiety levels. Like, WHAT IS GOING ON. Between the physical and mental changes, I feel a little crazy.

I spent part of today on a speed-walk, trying to outrun my anxiety. I spent part of today napping, and part of it meditating, and this evening, after an al fresco dinner of salmon patties and roasted broccoli and quinoa, I spent the latter part of the evening in front of a fire pit, telling spooky stories to the boys. But I made it through the day, and here I sit, watching Magnum P.I. with my oldest. You would be surprised at how touching and gentle this show is, how progressive it is. Its treatment of Vietnam veterans, and PTSD, and masculinity, is really kind of lovely. Magnum loves his male friends, unabashedly. Magnum is so tender with Vietnam vets, and handles their PTSD with such care. Magnum and Higgins have a relationship that is awkward, but ultimately mutually respectful. There are lots of James Bond-ish sexy ladies sans personality, and some clumsy moments, but it largely holds up. Donald Trump won’t be removed from office, but 30 years ago he would have been, and somehow that makes me hopeful. (What does this have to do with anything? Everything, and nothing. Always there, in the background, predatorily grinning along with every powerful man who ever put his hand on my thigh and leered.)

My last ghost story was one about a woman with three daughters – Jackie, Leah, and Katy. One day they were driving her so crazy, the Mom screamed aloud “I am sick of girls! I want only sons!” The next morning, Jack, Liam, and Craig woke up, and never did know that originally they were daughters instead of sons. The boys all looked at me with pretty wide eyes after that one.

“You know what stinks?” asks Jack, beside me. “School is five days, and the weekend is just two days. What’s up with that?”

I feel ya, buddy. I feel ya. Time for bed.