Valued

Herself speaks.

Yesterday evening at work, a coworker (let's call them One) was running out the door, late for an off-site event; One let me know that I and a third co-worker (let's call them Three) -- with whom One had just finished a meeting -- would be the last ones in the building, and One stated emphatically as they left, Thank God for Three. (Three had just taken on another project with One.) 

I agree. Three is smart, hardworking, a definitive asset to the team. I'm glad Three is there. One is clearly glad to have Three on board. And I think Three is glad to be there. Everyone wins. 

And I'm going to have just a tiny Moment for myself, to wonder: does it ever happen, that another person looks at me or my work product or something I've done, and says so emphatically out loud, Thank God? 

It might be embarrassingly petty to have that thought.

Or: perhaps it's a sign that at the moment, I feel underappreciated, overwhelmed. Undervalued. 

Underloved. And Underloved goes hand-in-hand with Abandoned, because Abandonment is my perpetual companion. It is quiet and unobtrusive most of the time, yet it is always there. We nod courteously from where we sit across the aisle from one another as we travel. And occasionally, we stand together. And we hold one another's hands. 

These are just feelings. And they may, or may not, have anything to do with actuality. But they are my feelings nevertheless. 

I don't know what to do when my feeling of Abandonment runs so high. The proper thing to do would be to tell my important people, I am feeling Abandoned for Reasons that I do not understand, and need reassurance right now. Yet that is absolutely the very last thing that I want to do, when I feel this way. 

So I say nothing. And I know that is the wrong thing to do. 

Maybe one day, I'll eventually summon enough Bravery to say Something. 

And someone will say, I didn't know. Now I do. Thank you for telling me. 

And maybe, even, Oh Thank God, for you. 

Teleport Dreams

Like a Convection Oven

So. Hot. Day after day. Past nine PM, it is still ninety-nine degrees. I don't remember ot being like this before. 

Weekend Activities

Herself speaks.

Everyone else in the house was away for the past few days, and so I had to figure out what to do with myself for this past weekend. It was a bit tricky -- it was an absolutely roasting 100+ degrees outside, even past 7 PM, so outside activities were limited. There were some potentially-interesting around-town events that I considered, but honestly, they were "with company"-type events, and I couldn't think of a single person I would like to ask to go with me. And once more, I reminded myself: SELF, you should see about finding some local people with whom to pass some time on occasions such as these. 

Honestly, though, I still just don't have the wherewithal right now. 

So instead, I chose once more to Clean And Organize Things At Home.  This is also a tricky activity, because so many of the things that require cleaning and/or organization are not actually my things. I tried to look at it as a kind of Suburban Household Forest situation: if I were camping in the forest, I would have limited control over the environment, and would have to tolerate a fair amount of clutter and things-that-aren't-mine in the vicinity, because that's just the way it is when one is in the forest.  I am living in a Suburban Household Forest. I will do what I can, and will just have to tolerate the rest as best possible.

I was quite productive, at least: the garage is better, the Room of Requirement is better, behind the bar is now clear, nine bags of donations were donated, cabinets are tidied. There are a few more tasks to complete this evening, but I have regained some control over the environment, as best I can, and I feel good about that. 

Next step: get better control over my social life by cultivating a few local relationships, so that I can spend more time doing casual fun things, instead of cleaning. 

The Feels

Fatherless Day

Happy Father's Day, Daddy, wherever you are. 

FlatBun

Comfy.

Indecent

I am not even really sure how to write accurately about the follow-up appointment I had today. The good news is, my eyeballs are fine, and the spontaneous hemorrhages in my retinas appear to have resolved themselves. That's great, and I'm glad. Let's hope it doesn't happen again.

The perplexing part, was that the doctor wouldn't actually examine my eyeballs -- and, in fact, wouldn't even remain in the room (only briefly greeting me and then promptly leaving) -- until my knees had been covered. 

You heard correctly. My business casual dress was ever so slightly above the knee, and that problem had to be rectified.

After the doctor scurried out of the room, I looked questioningly at the scribe, who  told me the doctor was just "trying to be respectful". That embarrassed me further, as if I was somehow INDECENT by having my knees showing. The scribe then left too.

His assistant disappeared as well, and returned a few minutes later. She gave me a paper square sheet as one typically finds in a doctor's office, and she and I tucked it carefully around my knees, before she went to re-fetch the doctor. 

There are explanations for the whole very strange interaction, I am sure. I don't feel like re-hashing potential explanations for an intelligent man's attempt to literally create what he clearly thought was some kind of thoughtful personal-space boundary. I honestly don't think he intended any actual harm in any way. He thought he was doing the right thing. 

Nevertheless, the whole thing was an affront, and mortifying. And I might need to find a new doctor. Because I clearly made him uncomfortable. And he, however well-intentioned, clearly made me uncomfortable. 

Oy. 

(For the record, this was my outfit. Photo taken shortly after my appointment, in the office.The dress covers my cleavage, has wide sleeves, and is not form fitting either in the arms, the waist, or the hips. The only immodest part is, as best I can tell, its length.)

KNEES.

Smoothie

Trying to take better care of myself. One meal at a time. 

Safety Net

It is the little things. 

Things like, the email from the family accountant verifying that I am the person who is now in charge of paying the annual bill (yes, I am). And the ten different checks which I had to carefully endorse with "Estate of [Daddy's name], by [My Name], independent administrator" before depositing them into the newly-opened bank account. The Wordle that I cannot bring myself to do any more.  

Small details, here and there, reminding me that Daddy is not here. That I am valiantly trying to fill his shoes in certain ways, as best I can. It is hard. 

I have done my best as a grown-up to be a self-sufficient, independent adult, and honestly I do a pretty good job overall.  It was always nice, though, when Daddy would take the time to check in and make sure that I was really getting what I needed, literally and emotionally. Do you need anything? He would ask at the end of every phone call.  And every now and then, he would double-check: How are you doing, really? 

I miss that.

Daddy was the back-up parachute. The safety net. The one I could count on to be there. I knew that if I were in trouble, or needed words of advice or consolation, he would be there. Even if I never needed anything -- the knowledge that he was there, just in case, was enough.

He is gone, and now here I am, way up high on the flying trapeze without a safety net.

It's a whole new feeling. Even though I'm used to the acrobatics of everyday life, the fact that he is not there to catch me if I fall any more is a cold truth. 

I miss you, Daddy. 

Fourteen

 Fourteen years ago, I arrived.

Thank you, gentle readers, for walking this journey with me.

MuppetBun

New Adventures

Today, I left Offspring the First at the airport, along with two suitcases that combined likely weighed more than she does, and off she went to Brand New Shiny Adventures. 

She's flying away from the Nest. 

We wish good things for you Always, Beautiful Child. Fly free and find all the marvelous places and peoples and adventures! 

Unexpected Echo

 One funny little detail that both Beloved Husband and I noticed during reunions: after we'd spent some time chatting with one of our old classmates (with whom I was quite close back in the day), Beloved Husband and I turned to one another and simultaneously concluded that the classmate (let's call him College Friend) reminded us both of Cherished Friend. It is hard to explain how, exactly -- but there is a definitive resemblance, a kind of deep-within similarity. It's more than their common characteristics of significant intelligence and an ability to express themselves well in words. Was it mannerisms? Sense of humor? Whatever it was, there is no doubt that there was a strange little echo across space-time between College Friend and Cherished Friend.

The end result of this odd little recognition was twofold: one, it made me miss Cherished Friend even more than usual; and two, it made me think that someday, if it is at all possible, I would like very much to find a way to introduce College Friend and Cherished Friend. I do think that they would enjoy one another's company. I try to imagine a conversation among College Friend, Cherished Friend, and Beloved Husband, and the very idea is beyond delightful. I would just watch, and listen, and be happy. 

Patterns everywhere.

Building Community

 As I reflect back on the reunions, I am struck by how much those few days spent with fellow graduates of my alma mater filled my need for Community.  The Pandemic had exacerbated the loneliness and sense of isolation that had grown within me over the past several years, and being back on campus with my peers alleviated those feelings in a significant and unexpected way. Perhaps, all these years later, I might actually Belong, in a way I didn't recognize all those years ago. Or perhaps I Belong now, even if I did not quite fit in back then. The years change us, allow us to grow and to See, in a way we didn't before.

And perhaps that is why, when I was asked earlier this week whether I would be interested in taking on a Significant Responsible Position in the Volunteer Group in which I participate for my college, I said yes. It's a chance to immerse myself, to redeem myself for opportunities missed when I was in school, to be fully involved, to be part of something bigger than myself. 

To help others to feel as if they, too, Belong. To do Good. 

To help this Community, to make this Community better. To serve this Community, as best I can. 

It's a Lot. I might be a little scared of the level of Commitment. But at the same time, it will take me back to my roots, and bring out the enthusiasm and joie de vivre that my young self once had. And give me a chance to be part of something Bigger, and to do Good. 

Here we go.