It's fair to say I'm going through the most challenging time in my life. It has also been the worst, but I've learned through cathartic experience how totally our thoughts, what we place emphasis on, determines the way we perceive the world. If I focus on my situation as being the worst, I omit, or marginalize, the terrible beauty, love, caring, and growth that have been part of it.
I say this tonight. Yesterday, and earlier today, I would have told you it was unequivocally the worst time of my life and whatever positives that could be taken from the situation were minnows in a leviathan sea. I was at my lowest point. I had never felt as weak, beset, angry, and afraid. Things changed this afternoon. Before I get to that, though, we must begin in the dark.
Wednesday was my first full day back at work. I was still in the maw of the virus that has been having its way with me and probably should have been home in bed, but we were having our Christmas party and also I recognized that my absence had disrupted the work flow and I wanted to contribute however I could. I made it through the day and I pined for my bed and its blankets almost every minute of it.
Yesterday was more difficult to get through. My energy, pleasingly high earlier in the day, waned dramatically in the early afternoon. I was trying to maintain, but it was a losing battle. I was still feeling ill (my ribs felt on the precipice of breaking from all the heavy coughing), the weather was lousy, there was a ton of activity at the office (two closings happening at the same time), and, oh,yeah, I was still grieving over my dad's death. It was all overwhelming. More than once I had to leave the office and weep in the restroom.
I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought some fresh chicken soup. I had looked forward to this meal all day. My body craved it, begged for it. When I got home, I had the soup heating on the stove before I took my jacket off. All I wanted to do was eat and then go to bed. Matt came in the kitchen and told me he had just got off the phone with his boss. He had been fired.
It had something to do with a coworker who was a cancer in the workplace. She had conspired against him, he thought. I was in no condition to delve into coffee shop politics, but I did feel bad that he had been fired, especially so close to Christmas, so I did my best to be sympathetic. As he spoke, I wondered if it was just his shit luck that has seen him breeze through about five jobs since he moved in last spring, or if it had more to do with him as an employee.
Not long after telling me the news of his firing, Matt told me he was going to be moving out at the end of the month. He assured me he wouldn't leave us in the lurch like Rae did, that he'd pay through January and pay whatever bill money was due. Thoughts of going through another round of interviews and everything else that comes with finding a new roommate assailed me. With everything else that was going on, it was too much. I felt beaten, angry, spent. Defeated.
As low as I've ever been.
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This post has grown much larger than I anticipated. I'm going to have to divide it into two posts. I'll be back.
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