I was touched more than I can express that they did so.
Nehi and I live a quiet life. And most of the time I really enjoy it. I am an introvert by nature, so while I adore, love, am passionate about my teaching job, being "on" from 7a to 225p all day is exhausting. I come home happy most days, but tired. Our evenings and weekends are quiet. Uninteresting. Couch snuggles. Reading in the sun. Park walks. All good things.
But sometimes it's isolating. I have been in Albuquerque for six years now. I have lived in my house longer than anywhere else. I do not know what I expected when I moved out here to start my PhD, but I do not think I expected it to be so isolating. I was 15-20 years old than the other grad students, so I never found a friend niche. I also went through my program faster, so there was no cohort relationship. Then I was teaching high school full time as I finished my dissertation, further distance from my department and campus.
My high school is across town, and Nehi is alone all day, from 630a when I leave, until 3p when I get home (barring a short potty break visit from our dog sitters at 11a). This means that at the end of the day, I want to go home to my girl. It's also a huge school- 1600+ students, 100+ faculty, and high turn-over, so even in four years there, I don't really have a friend group.
And most of the time this is all fine. But when I struggle, or when things are bad, it does mean there is not just no support system, but no one even notices.
The last few months have been stressful. Finishing the book last semester. Applying for the last even higher ed jobs as I've aged out of relevancy. I have spent the spring semester living two parallel lives- trying to imagine myself in each higher ed job I've applied to and making plans for staying here.
When I apply to jobs I look up rents as a practical measure, while California's community colleges are appealing, I can't afford to live there. I am single, and my salary alone wouldn't get me a shed, let alone a house with a fenced yard for Nehi. But as I look up rental prices, demographics, history, look at maps, and images of homes for rent, I also try to imagine what life THERE looks like.
I think part of this is a benefit of being older and on the market, I know the basics Nehi and I need and I know what makes us happy. I have not applied for any jobs where we wouldn't be happy.
But the window is rapidly closing. My Twitter feed is full of people announcing their faculty positions for next year. The jobs wiki is full of "campus interview stage" and "offer made" posts. Out of the jobs I applied to according to the wiki most of filled. I have 7 jobs that were late posts that maybe, not likely, but maybe, I'm still in the running for. And by in the running, I don't mean I'm special, I mean I haven't read or gotten a rejection.
So the further we get into March the more I settle into the idea that I won't be going anywhere. Which you'd think would be a stress reliever, after six years at least I have a solid answer about what my life is.
Maybe.
I have always been anxious. One way I have coped with my anxiety is by counting, organizing, forcing order and control over out of control things. When I was younger, this manifested itself through obsessive counting of window panes, ceiling tiles, any repetitive thing I could count, as though the act of counting brought order to chaos. It did, but only the inner kind. My outer world remained chaotic. I was also know to take any mess in my room and shove it in my closet, waiting to spill out like some movie scene, and you don't need to be a psychoanalyst to realize how unhealthy that is.
Color-coding, routines, habits, rigid organization became my armor against a world I did not understand and never seemed to fit in.
I know paring down, and my systems of organizations these last few years have been a direct result of me trying to provide a refuge of order in a life that has been nothing but chaos. But so much of the last few years has been totally out of my control and all the color-coded Post-Its in the world can't soothe me through this.
When I was working on my PhD I didn't feel great, I put on weight, but with no support system I let myself off the hook as I focused on just getting done. But once I graduated I spoke to my doctor about wanting to focus on being healthier.
In many ways I am the healthiest, happiest I have ever been. A year ago I radically changed my diet, cutting out processed, unintentional sugar, cutting most breads not whole grain, salads and veggies for days. Little red meat. No snacks. Desserts saved for weekends. Nehi is getting older, so we don't run or even walk the 3-6 miles we used to but weather permitting we walk every morning, and while our afternoon walks are more roll on the grass than exercise, still. Twice a week I walk the track at lunch, a nice mental and physical break from work stress.
I've been on anxiety meds since last summer, and it's made an amazing difference.
So I can honestly say, that by almost every single measure, I am living my best life.
But since August I have put on a horrifying 7" on my waist and I don't know how many pounds.
I am anxious that this means I'm horribly unhealthy and going to die.
I am anxious that this weight gain means none of my clothes fit, and I've had to repeatedly go to Goodwill to get bigger and bigger pants, again and again.
I am anxious in the mornings when I get dressed for work and feel fat and ugly and awful.
I posted a haircut picture the other day and was ashamed that I looked like a round, fat, I don't know what.
But now, with my weight, I am not happy. I don't feel good. And I think that's the main difference. Online friends are quick to tell me I'm great. That I am 43, and perimenopause is a thing. My anxiety can't accept that I eat the same things, exercise the same, and yet the scale and measuring tape just keeps going up and up and up.
I feel the loss of my mom keenly. She died 8 years ago, at the age of 59. She had lots and lots of health problems I do not (I am religious about having my doctor check), so her experiences of aging are not a great indicator of what I am dealing with, what comes next. I still wish she was here for so many reasons. Maybe she could have told me about the night sweats, the waking up repeatedly throughout the night, a full night's sleep no longer an option. I remember her suffering from hot flashes, carrying fans, and as I dress in layers, and open classroom windows in 40 degree weather I sympathize.
Maybe the weight gain is a combination of stress and getting older.
But I can't control that. I can't add that math. I can't make order out of that.
Welcome to my hamster wheel. I do not know why I feel so awful, I know I can't control it, I don't understand it, so I feel more awful.
Spring break started today, and I have few plans. Reading in the sun, watching horror movies for a book chapter. Walking Nehi in sunlight. Small goals although I think in my enthusiasm with the library book requests I may have overestimated my reading capability (and there are four more waiting for pick-up at the library).
I don't want to keep going the way I am, spiraling with nothing I can latch onto to fix.
One thing I have thought about a lot the last few years is that I am 43, and I'm past the point where I can put off things thinking that I'll do X when Y happens. I want instead to focus on making my life NOW the best life. Quiet. Healthy. Lots of Nehi pets and snuggles. I have tried to focus on the things I can control, and building a life out of that.
My stress the last few months though has exposed all that for the lie it is.
So I don't know what the next few months bring, or how I will feel. But I am grateful for a friend who checked in and took me off the hamster wheel for a while. Here's hoping I can stay off it a while.
No comments:
Post a Comment