I am flooding the house with cool air before buckling up against the heat. It is supposed to be beastly hot today, and humid too-- so right now goose bumps are a treat and treasure.
House is under contract, no kidding. Package has been submitted to the banks for consideration. I My realtor group has a lawyer and negotiators on board to do the heavy lifting, while I get collections calls every week from very nice bank of america people wondering why I am not paying. My last call to them ended with this: I do not qualify for any of their modification programs (my date of origination was after jan 2009, a magical date for making home affordable), so I needed to be 60 days late to qualify for their next tier of intervention. And so, just like that, everything I believe went to hell. Now they call and I feel like shit and they tell me the person lied, and I tell them to send that to me in writing with the name of the person I can call who will tell me what I qualify for while I pursue the short sale.... and nothing ever comes in the mail like that. It all sucks and is sucking my life force. Happily, the house is no longer being shown so at least I can leave my pump parts around, bottles on the rack, toothbrush on the sink.
The garden is magnificent, all iris are blooming. Hostas are huge and everything looks like it is thriving. I soak it in when I can.
This past week I had my first writing job in the days between workwork and going to maine to see Doug. It sucked, almost totally, but was very instructive in ways I will benefit from in the future. I don't want to dwell, but I was not proud of my resilience to the stress of it, and finally had to put on my Jen Lee shirt and my big girl pants and get a grip. Grip gotten, work submitted then a long drive north to Maine.
Maine will be for the summer only-- for me, just July and August. The cabin is cabin-y and I let myself off one hook by allowing myself to NOT try to make it home.
This weekend maybe I will look at apartments, trying to decrease costs as much as possible and knowing that for a time I can live almost anywhere. BUT having the baby changes things. (REALLY? NO SHIT KATE)
I feel fragmented and ragged, frayed and wrinkled, and tired in an achy sort of way.
A big life changing health issue in a beloved's beloved has rocked our worlds these past few weeks-- a diagnosis of MS and all of the fear and uncertainty and unfairness that that brings.
The diagnosis came yesterday, and the month really has been full of fear and uncertainty, scared of what it might be, fearing bad things, fearing worse things--
so while I sit surrounded by my own stress and bullshit, others are handling something so much more profound, so immense, that I felt I should be able to put my sadness and conflictedness and stress aside to hold room purely for an outpouring of very needed support kindness love.. but I can't. I am holding both.
I feel so selfish holding my own stressors too when they pale by comparison.
Like an etch-a-sketch, this other stuff should have toppled me over, given me a shake, cleared the screen, given me focus.
If you are reading this, beloved, I know you are thinking you are sorry. STOP THAT. I am sorry I am not managing better.
Ok, Della is done tormenting the cat, I must go. I just wanted you to know where I've been.
Unpoetically, deeply tangled, and wanting more than anything to gather myself together and just sit very still for a while or walk very far.