I confuse myself

So I met a guy here. Adam. He's awesome. So awesome. Fun, kind, service-oriented. Catholic and faith-filled. Loves family and friends. Has listened to me, supported me, helped me grade papers. Checked on me, made me meals, taken me out. He has prayed with me and shopped with me (for Christmas stuff-not regularly!) He went to my staff Christmas party and met my family and allowed me to meet his. And now we're dating.

I realized today that it has been only 4 days longer than a month since I even developed a crush on him. And today I just feel overwhelmed by this new relationship. Is there such a thing as too close too fast? Because that is how I feel right now. How many things have I put on the back burner because of the time I've spent with him? I've definitely gotten a lot less sleep. I think all my Christmas gifts I meant to make will be late now because I haven't started any of them. At least most of my shopping is done. But for anyone reading this, know that your cards and/or gifts will be late because they're still in the bags I bought over Thanksgiving.

I am so glad to have someone new in my life who seems to care about me, but today I felt more panicked about it than anything. I hope that's not completely abnormal. I think I just need a little time: for myself, for my projects and personal things, and for letting this relationship just go where it's meant to go.

The other shoe drops

I know I tend to make these blog posts horribly heavy outpourings of events and thoughts, but well, I guess it's better here than on facebook :-)

Yesterday became the day I feared since Pedro moved back in with my parents. Since I expected some of this to occur sooner, I shouldn't have been so surprised when it did at last happen. For some reason, the holidays seem to make Pedro more antagonistic towards Mom and Dad. I could feel it the other night when I ate dinner over at my parents'. Mom was at work, but there was this glint in Pedro's eye when he spoke to my dad; his tone carried an edge I haven't heard in a long time. He simmered with resentment about the surgery from two years ago--the unexpected appendectomy that resulted after a few days of Pedro moaning about a pain he couldn't articulate. Now he claims he told Mom and Dad that he wanted to go to the hospital, but KC was there, too, and she called him out on it: no, he hadn't mentioned the hospital at all. Pedro has this habit of remembering what he imagines and not what is accurate.

Now he is denial about what happened at school. It's obvious that he isn't liked there; no one ever calls him back when he invites them out. Wednesday he apparently got in a fight with a kid on the basketball team. Then he pushed the coach away when the man tried to break the kids apart. He earned a two-day suspension for that. Even worse is that he is being accused of sexually harassing kids at school; one mother is to the point of filing a lawsuit against the school. In therapy Pedro only expresses his rage at everyone; his adamant denial of having done anything wrong; his fury that Mom and Dad don't believe him; his trust of only his biological dad, his real brother, and Cely.

I realize only this: that nothing and no one will ever help Pedro unless he can let himself love and be changed by that love.

Right now . . .I just can't see that happening.

Morning ponderings

Ever wake up before you intend to? Have that unexpected jolt into alertness that seems to cajole your whole body into a response, and before you know it, nothing in you can return to dreams? I'm not entirely sure what prompted such an event for me this morning. It seems strange on a break. Maybe it's that I feel like I haven't accomplished anything I've meant to do this break. Few Christmas presents bought or determined. No grading or planning completed. No books finished, although I am working diligently on watching Sons of Anarchy with KC (Who would have thought I'd like that? Sometimes I surprise myself.) I would like to submit a few poems to a contest. I doubt that any of them are good enough for publication, but I just want to try. Just to share what I write somewhere. Maybe someday I'll actually write some of those stories that twirl through my mind like half-finished thoughts.

I kind of have a crush on a guy here. I feel so silly because sometimes I get so giddy. And other times I get so down. Like this morning--starting off bummed because he didn't text me at all yesterday, and I want to just send him a random text, but I don't know if he'd welcome that or just find me clingy. I mean, I've been around him a lot in the past few days: a movie on Friday night, a concert on Saturday, lunch on Monday . . .The concert was with other people, but the other two things, well, not only was it just us, but he paid for me, too. (He shouldn't have, but he just kept saying he knew how much I made as a teacher, and he felt generous. He seems like someone who feels generous a lot.) I haven't wanted to bog KC down with too many of my girly worries/thoughts, but I want to share them somehow. Of course, in sharing, I worry that I might be misreading things, and the times I've had with him are merely a nice guy who's bored. I'll build these silly possibilities in the sky and then watch them tumble down today or tomorrow or next when I realize he is interested in someone else. Or just not interested in me. Or maybe I'll lose interest. Sometimes I get very excited about someone and then . . .just not anymore. Ask KC. It's happened to me rather a lot.

Well, enough of these maudlin reflections. It's almost Thanksgiving! My parents are hosting what sounds like a growing number of people at their house on Friday rather than Thurs because my mom works all day. I made dinner for Dad, KC, and the kids last night since my mom was working. I felt great about helping and not so great about how there's not much space in our apartment for folks to move around. But it was still pleasant. And now I'm going to work on being at least pleasant today.

11-11-11

It's 11:31 on 11-11-11, and it occurred to me that I would really like to record something on this date. So here it is.

:-)

The forming of new habits

After weeks of mostly worried and/or complaining-type blog posts, I think I can provide a mostly positive one today. My one, brief-yet-heavily on my mind comment is that my mental spot is more and more like it was last fall right before Thanksgiving break where I felt I was having a mental collapse about teaching. It is incredibly hard to face another full week of school. I feel very tense about it and completely lacking in the desire to go. Not quite sure how to get rid of that feeling, but it does make me want to give up teaching again.

A few things I notice that do make me happy, though, are these. For one, the frequent family meals I get to enjoy. For the most part, getting to have dinner three or more times a week with my parents and sibs has been very enjoyable. I always get a real meal, and people are always happy to see me. It cuts down on some of my work-related stress.

Another thing I enjoy is that KC and I have found this awesome place called Great American Harvest Co, which makes fresh bread and other kinds of bakery items. They have the most amazing scones I've ever tasted. The bummer is that they're not open on Sundays, but she and I have attempted to work a scone in the past few Saturdays. (With the exception of yesterday because they were out :(

Also, KC and I have been found walking more places near our apartment. That is something I truly enjoy about where I live. Yesterday I walked to a grocery store (not the one we usually use because of its pricey food), and it felt fantastic. Friday night KC and I walked down to her pharmacy to grab the meds she needs. Granted, it wasn't a very enjoyable walk for a large chunk of it because we walked along Hillside, one of the busier streets in Amarillo, at rush hour. But still, I like the idea of walking more places.

I do feel hopefully about making a happy life here for the most part. It's just a longer process than I remembered.

A 4-day breather

Cue massive sigh--of the good sort. The kind you're allowed when you actually have a moment to pause, glance around, and notice that the seasons have switched. The kind you can only authentically deliver when too much has squished itself inside of you for too long. Feel that? Your mental lungs are expanding.

After several weeks of "go-go-go", it feels awesome to have a few moments to process it all. I realize that though I didn't want it to happen, my job has again become my first priority. 90 % of my energy expends itself there. And as I have experienced previously, my resentment has resurfaced. I do like being a classroom teacher. I've found it to be both challenging and rewarding in many positive ways in my growth as a person. But I am increasingly disgusted with the way it consumes my hours. I don't believe I get enough back from it anymore to make it worth all it takes from me. Certainly I understand that at this point, it feels all-consuming because I have all new classes this year. But I've been a 1st year teacher somewhere 4 times in 8 years of teaching. And I truly never want to be one again. I don't even want to finish off this year as one because I find myself wishing away so much of this year of my life. And as I approach 30 this upcoming year, I really don't want to look back on all of my 20's as the decade I spent working my financially independent life away. I've learned in the past seven weeks of working with many part-times teachers that I wish I could find a way to support myself and teach part time. Truly, teaching groups of kids and connecting with them are two things that have enriched my life above and beyond almost anything else. But to prepare for that and to feel that I am doing the job of which I believe I am capable I'm finding is next to impossible right now. I merely skim the surface of who and what I want to be as a teacher. And that is just not acceptable to me. I can't do less than my best for more than a short period of time without beginning to tumble into the land of self-disappointment and disdain.

Fortunately, for this year at least, the five people I treasure the most in the world are within a 12-15 minute driving distance. The other 9.95 % of my life I get to spend with them, and right now, I am so thrilled to do so. I watched Thor with KC last night, I spent an hour or more helping Pedro on vocabulary the other night (incidentally, the exact same vocab. I'd taught J23 8th graders for the past 5 years), I've been to Cely's soccer games, and I've been able to see my parents several times a week for a few months now. After yearning to do just these things for a while, I am so grateful to get this time. I wonder how I survived without it for so long.

And the other .05%? Well, I'm really eager to find some folks with whom to become buddies. I do attend the YA group at St. Thomas right now, and I've enjoyed many of the people I've met there . . .but that's pretty much the extent of my relationship with them. With the exception of one guy, I've not done one single other activity with anyone from that group--although I think I'd like to hang out with at least a few of them. And that one more friendly fellow--well, both KC and I agree that while he's exceptionally nice, he's just not that much fun. We find nothing about which to converse, so unless we're just watching a movie and then calling it a night, it's not interesting to be together. My school, unfortunately, has not provided friendship revenue, either. The one guy near my age recently became engaged and really his schedule almost never connects with mine. And he's been pretty distant from the start. I felt awkward about being the two only young, single teachers at the school, so I never knew quite how to approach getting to know him without appearing as though I was man-hunting. And now it feels almost as though the window of opportunity has passed. And maybe there's another person, another path to take--but I'm not sure where or how. Thank goodness for KC's friends--and for her in general. I'd be so depressed socially if it weren't for her.

All-in-all, I'm reasonably glad to be here in TX again. Ascension at least seems like a place where I can grow as a teacher, and Amarillo is the place where I can reconnect or connect for the first time with all the members of my now-immediate family. But I'd be thrilled to find more time and space to be someone other than a teacher and more someone's regular friend.

Ah, Life. What a work in progress.

Verisimilar

For whatever reason, I can't pretend away stress. When folks ask me how I'm doing, I'll tell them if I feel comfortable at all doing so.

So how has this school year been? Stress x a ton. I forgot how phenomenally hard it is to be a teacher; I am reminded why I wanted to give up the profession. How does one learn to let it go? I want to be challenging, I want to be fun, I want kids to feel time in my class is worthwhile. I have an incredibly hard time knowing that I'm not going to be the best I can be this year. At one point I thought I was ok with that. But I realize as I go through this year, and I have one 9th grade class which leans towards overconfidence, and the other which leans toward non-responsiveness that I just don't know the material well enough to meet both of them where they're at. And my poor 6th grade English and 8th grade religion classes . . .well, I do show up for their periods, but neither one is where I spend most of my mental and/or prep time. Then on top of these, I have to work on finding apps to use with my iPad from school when I still can't get my classroom technology to work correctly, AND begin looking into a service program for the whole school . . .I love all of these things, but if I could just put a couple of them off for a few more months . . .

Well, I'll hang in there. But I can't promise more than that right now.

System overload

I must have just worn myself out. That's the only explanation I can give for how sick I've felt this weekend. I mean, really--I get sinus infections multiple times a year, but this one has just wiped me out for most of this Labor Day weekend.

Granted, these past three weeks have been go-go-go. Before school started I felt so panicked, thinking I would never be hard enough for the pre-AP freshmen class (who are pretty sharp, I must admit). Then KC and I moved in ROR apartments the weekend before school started. We've been living amid boxes these past two weeks; every weekend sees us dumping out a few more boxes and buying more furniture as we attempt to organize a smaller space than either of us are used to. I'm pretty excited about how it all will look when it's done.

Then there's been the getting used to a new school. So far, I am enjoying my new coworkers; they seem more openminded and passionate about being good teachers than I sometimes find. However, there's only a couple close to my age at all. And I do miss J23. I miss all the people I grew to love there, and I miss being established in the school community--not some unknown figure to parents and students alike. I miss feeling sure of what I needed to teach and when. But I think Ascension will help me continue to grow as an educator, and that is worthwhile. It's just a ton of work right now.

There's also been me trying to work in getting to know other folks around here. The YA group I've spent some time with has been fun, but only one person has made an effort to get to know me outside of that venue. (And he can be a bit . . .persistent? Boring? Unkind of me, I suppose, but well, that's how it goes.)

Finally, there's been adjustments in my family. I'm trying not to worry too much about Pedro's being home and what that does to my parents and Cely, but it's hard. He's been back 2 weeks now, and he definitely was on his best behavior the first week or so. Now I'm starting to see some of the rough edges again, and I wonder how this will go. What maybe makes me the saddest right now is how different Cely is again. In the brief times I get to see her, she is so quiet. She almost never giggles or teases as she did all summer before Pedro came back. Some of her spirit and sass seems sucked under something once again. It's disheartening, and I wish I knew what to do.

I'd appreciate prayers for my family, if you think of them.

Reside in peace, Chereia Marie

Isn't grieving for the living? Do we really mourn for the one who's gone, or just our own sadness at that thought? I have to believe that Chereia's in a happier, easier, healthier place now. She had been through so very, very much in the past few months. I couldn't wish her back to that. But I would wish for time to hear her laugh which came from the soul, her warmth, her hold-nothing back kind of hugs, her exuberance, and her kindness. And also for her inordinate curiosity into others' lives, either through the OTR apartment windows or through watching her soap operas. I'd wish back her audacity: how she'd always ask questions for me that I was too hesitant to ask and how she was fearless enough to move to Cincinnati for a while. I'd wish back meeting at CiCi's Pizza to vent for a while, or for her to meet me in Monroe to help me grade papers and chat. I'd wish back how she was so willing to be friends with someone like me, someone from a background so incredibly different than her own.

But I have to be glad that at least she's not in pain anymore, that she's not relegated to an ICU bed any longer. What a sad existence for a vibrant girl in her early twenties! And she should have so much more than that.

So, Chereia Marie, I just want you to know that I can still hear your belly laugh and can still feel your encompassing hug. You and I won't meet again in this life, but God willing, we'll meet in the next. I love you, friend.

It's in the little things

It's really been a pretty good week. Pedro leaves, and the stress level in most of us goes way down. Cely's attitude swings back towards the positive. Most of us relax. We have one more week before KC and I move out . . .and P comes back. It's the last shot for him here my dad says. I hope that's true. And . . .I hope it works. Or at least I try to hope for that.

I've spent quite a bit of time with Cely the past few days since KC was working her 48 shift at the Children's Home. Cely helped me for hours at Ascension on Thurs. She even was amazingly handy in putting together a bookcase with me. Sometimes she is so much fun; I just love to hug her. My maternal instincts seem to emerge around her. Last night we watched Angels in the Outfield together. I couldn't help but bawl as little Joseph Gordon-Levitt expresses his wish for a family as he waits in foster care for his dad to get his life together. Cely didn't cry that I could see, but I wanted to ask her so badly if that's how she and Pedro used to feel: that longing for family and wish for a miracle. When and where did she, at least, get the courage to let another family love her?

Yesterday Sonny--the Irish setter/spitz mix dog that Pedro and Cely picked out last week--came here. Apparently he couldn't come to our house till he had been neutered. Poor guy. But he's here now--and he's a beautiful dog. I think he's about 8 months old. So far he appears to be very nervous and shy. His reluctance to let any of us touch him reminds me of Pedro. Makes me wonder if the two of them will be able to bond, or if they will be like ships in the night, merely passing by on their parallel paths. My hope is that P won't be too lazy, and that he will invest a lot of his bored life into getting to know Sonny to help heal them both. Maybe that's too much to hope for.

Another seemingly small moment that still touched my heart was a story my mother shared with KC and me yesterday. The three of us were watching Dad approach Sonny, and Mom suddenly turned to KC and me and told us the story of a collie named Pooch that her family owned when she was tiny. She described how protective the collie was, how when someone would drive up to her family farm, that dog would circle around all the kids in the family (ultimately there were 10 of them) and eye the stranger as if to say, "I know where all these kids are, and you aren't getting any of them." Mom said something about Sonny's hair and face reminded her of Pooch.

KC and I both exclaimed how adorable we thought Mom must have been as a little girl, how we would have just loved her tiny self and would have hugged her all the time just because she was so cute and needed protection. And she laughed and said she used to frustrated her mom so much when she was little because evidently, Mom liked dirt. Yep, you'd never guess it, but Mom was a dirt-eater and lover as a gal. At first, KC and I were very confused--wait, Mom, you liked to EAT . . .DIRT?? "Yes," she giggled. "And I liked it so much that I convinced Kathy and JoAnn (the 2 sisters closest in age to her) to eat dirt too. I always had to get dewormed, but I just loved it. My mom would see our mouths ringed with brown, and she would say, 'Are you eating dirt again?' And I'd shake my head and say, 'No!'" It was impossible not to burst out laughing at the thought of our mother not only eating dirt, but loving it and convincing her sisters to eat it, too. All these years of knowing my mom, I never would have guessed this about her. Most of her childhood memories express great sadness or bitterness.

I love my family.

Welcome home . . .now go back!

It really was ok. Really. Pedro didn't do anything wrong this weekend.

But it was just a weekend, and behavior can be controlled for two days.

I guess that's one part of the thoughts that have weighed so heavily on my mind this past weekend. The other major one is that I've realized something in living back at my parents' house these past few weeks: every anxiety-ridden and worry-driven tendency that I have comes directly from my mom and dad. If you take their natural habits and fears and combine them into one, you get me. So imagine if you will how paralyzing my own worries are when added to the worries of my parents. I find it hard to function. If I had to actually live in this house as my parents reintroduce Pedro here, I'm pretty sure I'd have to be in a coma to deal with it.

Overly dramatic? Perhaps. But I couldn't function yesterday because I could tell my father was stressed and wanted Pedro to leave the house. Let me repeat: Pedro didn't really challenge my parents at all this past weekend. He was fairly pleasant--at least as much as he is capable of being. I woke up with a sullen headache that refused to depart, and I couldn't shake the shadow on my mind, that shadow of NOT KNOWING how this will end or even develop. Is this return an event that will reveal a miraculous recovery and the eventual creation of a healthy family--or will this be a simple--and painful--exercise in faith that challenges us to love and try even though Pedro will never be able to stay with our family? How much will my parents have to try before they'll feel it's ok to call it enough? They've prayed and prayed and prayed about this; they feel like God is in this somehow, even though they practically shake when they talk to and about Pedro. Maybe they are only called to plant a seed in Pedro. He seems hellbent on making as many destructive choices that he can make in his teen years. How can they undo 13 years of shoddy decision-making regarding him? Already Cely seems to read better than he does. He couldn't even read the words "Sonny" (the name of their new dog) or "emergency" (he thought it said "electricity"). Cely corrected him both times.

I believe on some levels that God often challenges us outside of our comfort zones; He takes us farther than we ever thought we could go: faith can move mountains and all that. Miracles didn't stop after Jesus ascended back to heaven. There's that saying that God never gives us more than we can handle . . .so is Pedro's return a sign that God trusts my parents tremendously? If this event were a biblical story, would it be the triumph of Esther or the tragedy of Job? And how does one live with the not knowing, the questions, until one lives into the answers?

My answer right now: I really don't know.

A little bit giddy

KC and I met up at Buffalo Wild Wings tonight with a few folks from the YA crowd that I met last Thursday. The guy who has been most persistent in creating a friendship with me set it up over the group's facebook page. We wound up with 6 others coming, including a guy KC saw at mass months and months ago and thought was cute. Turns out he's a techy kind of guy who works for the Diocese of Amarillo. He is pretty good looking, but he also came with his girlfriend, so that put a damper on KC's spirit a bit. Ah well.

I was, as I always am, a little nervous in groups of new people. Funny how a bit o'beer helps me with that. Really, it was a good time, and it makes me hopeful that maybe-just maybe-I could find a good group to hang with here.

(Also, KC and I went to grab some Frazzleberry's frozen yogurt after dinner, which was awesome!)

Now tomorrow I'm off to IN to see a friend returning from China.

One restless spirit here

What does one do to soothe the restless spirit within? I met some new people Thursday night--one good thing.

Got out of the house and spent time with Mom and Cely--another good one.

Working some on school planning for the year--always a plus.

But I'd be lying if I didn't feel like I'm stepping on my parents' toes somewhat, and they're stepping on mine. It'll be almost a month before I can move out into a place with KC. Pedro will be back before I can get out. And my phone keeps dropping its calls.

And really, I think it kind of sucks that I don't start work for another month. Crazy, I know, that I'm saying this. Usually I want summer to go on and on and on. But now I just want a reason to get out of the house and a place to be. I want to know some more people. Actually, a guy that I met Thurs at the YA group friended me on facebook almost immediately after I met him, and then he invited me to coffee or dinner. Now, to those who know me at all will know that I freak out about stuff like this. He did nothing wrong--it's all me and my weird fears and awkward ways. (Living with my parents again shows me so much about why I am the way I am.) But while the bored, bolder part of me wants to just take a leap and trust my own strength and confidence to handle whatever comes next, the cautious, passive person in me (who has made many if not most of my friendship-related decisions in my life) hesitates. Let me tell you, I wouldn't wish this personality trait on anyone.

So anyway, that's where I'm at this hot, dry Saturday night. And my face keeps breaking out. Why things that worked well in OH work like crap here is beyond me. But at least KC's back from Belize tomorrow.

Branching out

If there's one thing I avoid, it's going to new places by myself and meeting new people. I dread initializing conversations with people I don't know and trying to feel comfortable in a new setting. But tonight, I did it anyway.

My parents' parish has a YA group, and I had been interested in attending sometime, but I wanted KC to come too. Tonight, she's in Belize, and as my only other plans for getting out of the house cancelled on me, I figured what the heck. Let's do this thing. Of course, I wound up needing an encouraging word from my dad to convince me to go.

But I did, and I immediately ran into a friendly guy who played pool with me for a while and tried to give me pointers as I suck at pool. Pretty much everyone I met there was friendly and welcoming. It was so fantastic to see something like this at my old parish, the place I felt I never belonged. So we'll see what happens, but right now, I think I've got plans most Thurs nights :)

Um, About That . . .

*Sidebar: Apparently the trip to Rome could occur during Christmas 2012, not 2011 . . .more time to save and no moratorium on shoe-purchasing!!*

Please imagine for yourself the music of impending doom. Can you hear it? I have started to. In addition to trying to get settled in and sorted through everything, somewhere in the back of my mind I've known that Pedro is coming back to my parents' house at the end of summer. I've tried not to contemplate it too much as it tends to worry me (and at least some of the rest of us) more than is healthy. I mean, at this point, what can we do? The commitment has been made. But tonight my mom opened with this conversation starter: "Kerry, when Pedro moves back, you need to make sure not to leave your purse sitting around in the open. His house dad told us that he tends to take things he thinks he is owed. And don't let him listen to your iPod. His music needs to be censored."

She listed a few other things about which I should be cautious. Now, I don't want to sound too unforgiving or hateful, but I just need to say that I'm not sure I want him to return here. I don't like the idea of the home in which I grew up, the home that has felt like the most loving, safest place in my life, suddenly returned to the land of suspicion and tension. I really hate how quiet my mom becomes, how irritable my dad acts, how secretive Cely is, when Pedro is around. And of course there is the exorbitant increase in KC and my anxiety levels when he's near.

If anyone has wise words on how to be in a family with someone you don't particularly trust, you're not sure you like, but you do care about on some level, please let me know.

REALLY??!!!!

And, the other exciting part of my Sunday was hearing that because Cely's in the children's choir at church, we might be going to Rome for Christmas!! (And by "we" I can only include myself if I save up for this trip--but how could I not?!) I wonder if I could stop buying shoes for a full five months?

Why I'm Glad to Be Here

It had to happen: a day to reassure me that I do want to be here. Even though KC's out of town, and I feel a little lost without her, I like doing things with the other family members.

Last night Mom suggested a morning bike ride, so the four of us at the house loaded ourselves up (yes, me too--stumbling tiredly around the kitchen and mumbling in monotones) and left the house by 8 a.m. It was a pretty perfect way to start the day: sunny, cooler, less traffic. 4 miles down the road called FM 2186 and then back. And Mom made breakfast burritos. Yum. She also invited a couple of friends of hers and my dad's for dinner, and then Cely had a friend over. Some of us watched the World Cup final today. After a truly fantastic meal, Cely's friend Jacquey convinced all of us to play a game or two. Let me just say, that 10 year old is the least shy, most opinionated girl I've ever had occasion to meet. I alternated between wanted to smack her and laughing hysterically at her misuse of words. For example, she calls Cely "Celery." Then when we played Taboo, a clue was given: "Something you have," and the first thing she shouted was "Numchucks"! I fell out of my chair giggling. She's also a shrieker when she gets upset or excited--till my dad had remonstrate her. Ah well. In good fun. And in tiny doses, she's ok.

A great Sunday :)

Strength

I think I've been in Amarillo a little over two weeks now--right? Maybe not. The days and weeks truly blur together. There are days I feel seriously unbalanced because while I feel a sense of peace about being near my family, I feel . . .grief about leaving the Midwest. I do. I miss Cincinnati's NPR every morning when I wake up and during the day because High Plains Public Radio only has enough funding for a few shows and a whole lotta classical music. I miss Graeter's and UDF and Half Price Books and Chipotle and Panera and two good library systems where I could almost always find the book I wanted. I miss going to a church that challenges me to grow. I miss my favorite shopping areas. I miss bike paths and the color green, although not as much as others might. There are so many people I miss. So many. If you're reading this, then you are one of those people.

I am so glad that I moved away from here for so long. Nothing could have been better for me. I proved to myself that I can be liked and respected purely because I am who I am. So many things I enjoy I never would have discovered if I had not lived in OH for so long.

But I can honestly say I don't miss the gray skies--not even for one second. And I don't miss the empty space that grew bigger and bigger inside me being so far from my family. Being here, I wonder sometimes how I stayed away so long. Part of me felt orphaned being so distant.

But the hard part about being here is creating a different space for myself. Truly, it is starting all over, finding the things I loved in OH here in Amarillo again--or at least finding a reasonable substitute. My first goal has been finding a living space of my own, well, one to share with KC. Last week she and I started apartment hunting. The second place we went to, one of the two we found open on Saturday, had a very curt, big-haired blonde woman at the desk. She had experienced too many hours in the tanning bed, it seemed. I didn't want to talk to her after her cold reception, but KC persevered. Part way through our discussion of rooms and rents, I noticed a word on her left wrist: Strength, and I thought instantly of Beth Johnson and her two wrist tattoos, Faith and Hope. By this time the leasing agent had warmed enough to KC and I that I asked her if she really did have a tattoo there, and if there was a story that went with it. She almost gushed at that point, explaining how she had it done to remind her of all the strong women in her life. I couldn't help but admire it. Part of me wants a tat like that now, too--to remind me to be strong. I've done it several times before, and I've gotten better every time. I can do this--make a life here.

Today I had a very interesting opportunity to meet up with an old classmate of mine. It's so funny how one never knows who truly reads one's facebook postings. Apparently old high school classmates of mine did as I exclaimed that I was moving back to Amarillo. So the boy who had been bullied all of my junior high and high school years becomes the first to contact me and ask if I'd be interested in catching up during coffee sometime. True to form, I was nervous as hell about that offer at first. I can think of a thousand times during our school years where I invited him to be in my group or offered him the nice word because no one else would. But, to my shame, I was always embarrassed to do so. I always felt it was a mark of my own low status on the school popularity pole that meant I sometimes didn't have another person to work with. Sometimes I think that was true. But since he was the first person to invite me to do something, I thought I'd better have strength and go. Actually, it was a pleasant meeting. He seems to be in a better place right now, not so beaten down by his own unfair reputation. And yet, part of me has a hard time just rolling with the idea of truly befriending him now as an adult. Isn't that awful??! I always try to see too far down the road and anticipate possibilities that may or may not occur. And can't we ever outgrow who we are in high school? Isn't that what I want people to be able to do for me? Isn't that in part why I stayed away so long? I felt it today, in talking with him, how on the social level, I despised high school. Loathed it. Felt so awkward, insecure, out of place, boxed in . . . you name it. Not really bullied, but not free. Not me. And I have very few memories of high school that bring back untainted happy memories. So this is where the strength idea comes in, why I'm semi-tempted to get another tattoo;) I just want to remind myself that I've done scarier, harder, lonelier things--and I've come out pretty well. What is it about facing your past that makes it so much more frightening than facing the brand new? It must be the feelings you drag along with you.

But I can do this. I can. Watch me :)