Saturday, June 22, 2013

Don't Give Up On Me Now

  I know. I've been M.I.A for almost a month now and even though there aren't very many of you who have noticed the absence, those of you that have are so much appreciated that I feel it necessary to update you a bit. I'm still here, my husband still has Marfan's and it's still a bitch and a half; that's basically the long and short of it. I started a new job last month, so that's been occupying a lot of the space in my head, as has trying to get settled here in the CLT. (That would be Charlotte, NC, for those of you not as hip as I. And please tell me you can hear the sarcasm in that statement...) It's a much slower process than I ever anticipated, but I think I'm getting there.

     My husband's bestie Adam and his girlfriend, Carrie, have been a huge part of the reason I'm doing okay with all the newness and for that, I'm beyond grateful. They make up the largest part of the solid ground I'm trying to stand on here, hundreds of miles away from everything I've known thus far. My in-laws are here, too, and I'm a lucky girl in that I don't have anything close to the stereotypical awkwardly tense relationship with them that seems to be the norm in every rom-com ever produced. I'm actually enjoying getting to know them better and I find myself occasionally wishing I knew how to navigate from my house to theirs, just to hang out for awhile in a place that feels like family. I'm sure, sooner or later, I'll figure out which roads lead where and just gift them with my presence from time to time.

     I'm settling in, I think. It's still kind of odd to be in a place where few people know the situation regarding my husband's health because I feel as though we have to start all over again. My new employer, for example, knows nothing of my husband's disorder and all the far-reaching complications that come with it. It makes it difficult when it comes to his various hospitalizations, to be sure. I've only been there two months and so far, that's not been a bridge that I've had to cross. I know the day is coming, though, when I'm going to have to go into my boss's office and explain what's going on, why I need to leave work early or trade shifts with someone so that I can have the next day off. It's not a conversation I look forward to having.

     I don't want to focus on what's down the road right now, not when there's so much that I need to concentrate on right in front of me. I can feel how unsettled I still am and that needs to be calmed before I can adequately tackle the bigger issues. I know I haven't been posting here, but I've been journaling in my paper journal like a fiend and that's a sure sign that something's not right within me. I always go to my little book when I can't calm what's raging inside, pushing at my edges until they're ragged. I'm hoping that I can use this outlet to once again smooth the edges back down, like I used to.

     My sister and I were kind of discussing this while I was home for Christmas a couple of days ago, the move and how my husband and I were doing with it all. Over the course of the conversation, we came up with a theory about the supposed Mayan apocalypse. According to every website everywhere, the world was supposed to end on December 21, 2012, as that's when the Mayan calendar ended. Or something. I'm not an historian, an archaeologist, or anything else that might actually enable me to have the first clue as to what the Mayans did or did not do to cause such an uproar. There was that John Cusack movie that said it was the endtimes, though, so we'll go with it. Lizzie and I came to the conclusion, though, that while the Mayans may have predicted the end of the world, what got lost in translation was that they weren't speaking on a global scale at all.

     Lizzie's world ended, in a very real way, this past summer when she and the only boy she'd ever loved parted ways. She's still not okay from the breaking apart of something so precious; I don't know that she will be for a very long time. My husband's world started the slow descent last winter and got steadily worse as the months went by. His may not have ended as solidly as I feel mine did, but it's forever changed, no doubt. Mine? Mine flat-out ended.

     Sigh. That sounds a bit overdramatic, even if it is accurate. Circumstances beyond my control forced a changing of the tide and I had to start over, building from the ground up in more than one way. I never planned for it, never pictured myself living anywhere this far from my family and friends. The job that I'd held and loved for the better part of a decade is gone and the fact that I left on great terms and can go back to visit whenever I want is small consolation when those familiar faces are no longer the ones that keep me company during my workday. It just doesn't feel like anything is the way it's supposed to be.

     Then again, what do I know about what's "supposed" to be? Maybe this is part of the grand scheme of things and we're right on track. As I mentioned before, there are some seriously bright spots in my life at the moment. Loving friends, a good relationship with my in-laws and a full-time gig that I landed a mere two weeks after rolling into town. Those are all really good things, things that make a difficult time much more manageable. I've still got dark spots, though, places that I have to build back up from the wreck of what was. I think that's something that my husband and I both have to face.

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