My family on Earth is so good to me.

[From a letter to a friend nearly a year ago--reflections on relocation.]

I don't know where to begin.

For the past couple weeks, in particular, I keep looking around thinking, "What the fuck has happened to my life?"  The first two days back in WV I cried constantly.  My mother settled into a chair with a tall glass of wine (with ice) and a bunch of cats on her lap to watch some nameless legal show and ignored me.  It was like being 14 all over again.

I feel homesick, although for what or where I really can't say.  Most likely I just feel homesick for one of my grandparents' front porches in the early 80s, when I had seen or experienced very little of the world and when all I needed was an extra five minutes to play outside before dinner or to finally distract my grandpa from his baseball game so he would talk to me instead ("Papaw, have you ever had a mustache?  How old were you?  How long did you have it?  Would you ever have one again?").  Obviously, I can't go back there.

And that leaves me here.

My friend came to see me.  Judith.  She lived in an identical apartment above me when I lived at 3333 W. Grace Street in Richmond, VA.  23221.  I met her shortly after I moved in.  One weekend morning I was unpacking and cleaning and whatnot, and waiting for my landlord to come and unclog my kitchen sink so I could move on with my day.  Suddenly my upstairs neighbor drained the dishwater in HER sink and my kitchen began flooding.  I threw on my flowery bathrobe and ran upstairs to plead with her to please, PLEASE plug her sink!  Just for now.  Her large dog (a boxer mix named Jojo to whom I would later sing, "Jojo left his home in Tuscon, Arizona for some California grass...") came charging and barking to the door.  After some delay, she cautiously peered out through her cracked front door.  She seemed nice but a bit reserved and more than a little startled by my dramatic, breathless appearance at her front door on a Saturday morning.

When she wanted to visit me upon my unceremonious return to the area, I warned her that I was staying at my father's and he lived a little off the beaten bath.  She said adamantly, "I will find you."  And she did, thank god.  Spending a couple days with her and watching her play with my daughter made me feel normal--like my old self for awhile.

This morning at 6am I stood at my father's kitchen sink eating a half sandwich with last night's slow roasted pork and surveying the landscape, and it felt good.

I can't say much for the events that have taken place in between Judith's visit and that sandwich.

I had a job interview on Friday.  At [a local mental health facility] in Clarksburg, WV.  It is located just feet away from the old hospital in which I was born, and it was a completely baffling experience.  The two women who interviewed me were as sweet as could be and incredibly informal.  Mary Sue and Peggy.  They stared at my resume and then up at me and said, "What brings you here from San Francisco?"

Oh, ladies.  If only I could succinctly answer that question.

The were puzzled as to why I had a PhD in psychology but no license to practice therapy.  At one point, one of them asked the other, "Did you see on her resume that...." The other one cut her off:  "I read it," she said.  "I read every bit of it."

They seemed to want to try to fit me in SOMEwhere in the organization and promised to talk to their HR to see what they could offer me.  "Honey, you might not even want the job after you see the salary," Mary Sue warned.  Possibly as much as $40,000/year less than I made at my last position.

Oh, Mary Sue, I want it.

I heard them talking about me before I was even down the hall.  "She's so nice!" was the main thing I heard.

I am nice.

My mother was dogging San Francisco as a place to raise a child.  "I hear frogs outside every night!" she bragged, as if that fact alone were enough to sufficiently make her point.

"Yes, but I could count every person of color in my high school on one hand and I can still remember all their names!" I countered.  "Because there were so few of them."

"We have the Mexicans and the Orientals here now," she offered.

Yes, it's true.  And if they're not picking our produce, they've opened a restaurant.  My friend Shannon tells me there is a popular Chinese restaurant here that keeps a large bowl of Doritos on the food buffet.  And they're very popular.  And everyone still finds it hilarious to joke that the chicken is actually cat.

To be continued.  Sorry.  I didn't even bother to edit this for typos as I usually try to do.  Stream-of-consciousness.  My household is starting to wake up.  Send.

Missing

Let me begin by saying that if I owe you an email, phone call, visit, book, or anything else, please forgive me. I have been rather under the weather and everything has suffered.

On a related note: I have a lot of shit to do. The list is long and many of the tasks are daunting. But I am working on them.

First and foremost on the list is my mental health. I don't really know what or how much to say at this point. I will say that I have been considering and making phone calls to investigate a variety of options along the continuum, everything from a different psychiatrist to partial hospitalization to *gulp* possible full hospitalization for a period.

It is scary.

It is often overwhelming.

There is so much red tape and bureaucracy to get through, and it is so easy to feel frustrated and discouraged and hopeless.

Since I--for better or worse--am fairly open through this venue, in particular, many issues you may already be aware of: struggles with bipolar disorder (although there is some recent disagreement on this particular label), depression, anxiety, a job loss, a miscarriage, and some significant relationship challenges. There have been other events of which I've never spoken until the last couple of days. Not even to best friends or therapists or physicians.

I know now how fucking stupid my silence has been. And it has cost me a great deal.

I don't know at what point I crossed over from being the girl who took on things that scared her just to prove that she could do it to being this little, fearful person who is terrified of everything and everyone.

But I hate her.

I miss the little girl who was a scrapper. I miss the little girl who had holes in the knees of her jeans that she patched with scotch tape and wore them to school anyway. I miss the little girl who preferred to pee in the snow rather than going inside to use the bathroom so as not to miss a minute of sled-riding. I miss the little girl who chewed on the plastic handle fringes of her Big Wheel as she skidded around corners, dangerously close to traffic, and would race anyone who cared to challenger her.

I am trying to find her again.

My porn skills are apparently being under-utilized.

More and more frequently, I am noticing folks coming across my blog via google searches for topics of a graphic sexual nature. Recently it was "how to lick my husband's penis" from an interested party in India. Quite regularly, it is "grandmother swallows" from all over the world.

What the hell?

I mean, sex is good. I have spent years teaching and conducting research on sex-related topics. I have even been known on one or two occasions to have sex (but only in the dark in the missionary position with someone I love). People can look up whatever they want, of course, but how are these things bringing them to my little narcissistic, self-indulgent corner of the web?

I feel certain I've never written about any of these topics. Perhaps I should start--maybe this is the shift in career directions for which I have been searching.

I feel certain Ivan will have other ideas about the merits of such an endeavor.

From soup to nuts

So I was screwing around on Facebook this evening, putting off cleaning the bathroom, when something very interesting caught my attention. My friend Nicole was looking for help getting her next cookbook ready and put out an informal job advertisement for some assistance. She has about 200 recipes that she needs edited, organized, and uploaded into a print-on-demand website. I was excited by the opportunity and expressed interest, and she responded, "Amie, I was secretly hoping you would be interested in this." I was incredibly flattered.

I met Nicole a couple of years ago via our mutual friend Bree. At the time she was designing a survey for parents regarding the local school lunch program and needed some help. Designing surveys was a component of what I used to do in my research life, so it was very easy for me to offer my services. She liked the work I did for her, we hit it off, and for the next couple of years I followed her chef blog and we traded Facebook comments.

I am terribly excited because I enjoy cooking, but even more than cooking I love cookbooks! I have a pretty decent collection, and I spend a lot of time looking up recipes and ingredients online. Plus, I have plenty of time on my hands and this sounds incredibly fun. We just got off the phone and are currently nailing down the specifics, but expect to begin work together very soon.

I would like to personally thank the universe for throwing me a bone.

The kindness of strangers

I've been feeling a little blue. The reasons for this are not important right now, but what happened while I was feeling that way today is worthy of mention.

While the place I work is perfectly fine, people tend to keep to themselves. Other than the other person on my team, Michelle (thank God for her!), I don't really have anyone to talk to during the day. At times it feels a little lonely.

Today I've been feeling especially anxious and emotional, and it was so hard to coax myself out of bed this morning. I've burst into tears twice today at work. Michelle stopped by to let me know that a small reception had just let out, and that free for the taking were sandwiches, cookies, and pasta salad. This occasionally happens around here, and it's always a lovely treat. I hurried back to conference room where the food was located just in time to see someone picking up the last of it. Disappointed, I returned to my desk to continue working and to grumble about my bad luck.

Suddenly, the guy in the cube next to me stopped by my cube and introduced himself. I was a little surprised, as Michael's been my neighbor for 3 1/2 months now and we've never talked. (I'm shy! I'm horrible at introducing myself!) We chatted a few minutes, and he told me he'd gotten more food than he could eat leftover from the reception and would I like to share? I felt silly for feeling so grateful at the prospect of sharing someone's free lunch, but I gratefully accepted. He returned to his cube, got out his plate and fork, and created me a platter that was exactly half of everything he had: a roast beef sandwich, pesto pasta salad, and a peanut butter cookie.

I immediately teared up again, but they were good tears. I had my delicious lunch while I worked. I washed his dishes and returned them, and told him he'd really made my day better. He seemed a little surprised by this.

Sometimes it's the little things.

Ouch

Today just got a whole lot rougher.

Back to UCSF

I got me a new job.

Obviously this is good news for financial reasons. Also? It means the living hell of a job I have been in for the last 21 months is over. My god that place made me so unhappy. I miss my co-workers terribly already, though. They made it bearable.

The pay is less than what I was making before, but I was able to negotiate it up a bit. And I won't be paying for gas and all the wear and tear on my car.

But seriously. I am really proud of getting this job because the competition was fierce. On Monday I move into my new office. I will have a Mac desktop and a Macbook laptop and I am a little nervous about figuring out how to use them.

But I am feeling incredibly optimistic.

I am looking forward to morning walks to work--it's about 2.4 miles. No more 2 hours of commuting! I should be able to lose some of the weight I gained during my misery at my last job. In the meantime I am enjoying my week off.

Maybe 2010 is my year after all.

Know when to hold 'em; know when to fold 'em

(Know when to walk away, and know when to run...)

I'm cleaning out my office today. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

Haves and have nots

Have:

- professional clothes
- kick-ass resume
- clean laundry
- ice cream fix
- pocket full o' kryptonite
- 42 exams to grade


Need:

- new job
- toilet paper
- batteries

Want:

- trip to a tropical destination
- hugs and kisses
- scooter

Incredibly optimistic

I am quite excited about my interview tomorrow--I feel so optimistic. Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself in my head (planning walks to work, searching for recipes for healthy lunches to pack) but I can't help it. I am such a great fit for this position.

Maybe Thursday, May 13 should be known as Amie's Independence Day.

Maybe this is the beginning of great things.

Maybe a little weekend trip is warranted in the near future.

Maybe I am not a lost cause.

Maybe the things I want can happen for me.

Looks like...

...I need to find that new job a lot sooner than I thought.

What made my day today.

My friend P. just returned from a hiking trip on top of Mt. Shasta, and today she tentatively knocked on my office door and asked me if I had a second. "Sure," I said, "what's going on?" (I was nervous, you see, because work hasn't exactly been a source of good news lately.) She was cupping something in her hand, and looked a little shy.

She said, "I brought something back from my trip for you because I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. I was thinking about the people that lift me up every day, and I wanted you to know that you do that for me. So, from 10,000 feet up on the mountain, I brought you some snow melt so that you would know I took you with me and I'm grateful for you." She handed me a small, clear vial of water.

My eyes stung immediately. I hugged her and thanked her profusely for thinking of me, because she is someone who lifts me up each day, as well. She made this day a lot brighter.

A little rain never hurt no one.

I had a major disappointment today. It crushed me and I cried at work. I knew it was a distinct possibility. I received sweet support from Dave, Ruben, and Tamara and I am so grateful. I'm trying really hard to keep my chin up and stay hopeful.

I have no other choice.

Thus, I am drinking champagne and celebrating small things.

:(

Today can only get worse if I am bludgeoned to death on my way to the parking lot. I am trying not to spend the day in tears.

Busting out of this joint

I have started a habit I hope to continue. I have been applying for at least one job a day first thing in the morning after arriving at work. It helps me stay hopeful, helps to make more bearable the rest of the day at a place that makes me so incredibly unhappy.

R. and I promised each other. We're getting out.

Everything I've got

I feel like I am in a state of suspended animation--perched on the brink of big things, holding my breath and waiting. The wait is killing me.

I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind...

Today can only get better.

My boss is on the rampage again. And today I am her whipping boy (girl). Kill me now. Please. Thank you.

Thinkin' 'bout leavin'

Last night the Golden Gate Bridge had my number again. I'm terrified of that thing. There's something about it that draws my brain to it in times of despair.

I'm thinking about leaving San Francisco. Like, for real.

I used to feel optimistic. I used to have a feeling that things were going to work out for me--somehow, some way. I felt that good things were in store for me. That all ended a couple of years ago. I've struggled to figure out how to get it back, and I keep coming up short.

Things have gotten bad again, and it wasn't until last night when I told anyone just how bad they had gotten. I barely do the things I need to do to take care of myself, and this has to change. I deserve a lot more.

I'm giving some serious thought about moving to North Carolina, at least as a temporary stop en route to somewhere else, to be with my aunt for awhile. I need to leave the job that makes me want to slit my throat. I need some mental and emotional support. I can stay with her awhile while I look for a job. I can focus on myself and stop struggling so much just to survive. I need to sit with the idea a bit. If I do it, I need to seriously save some money, so it probably wouldn't be until after my summer class is over.

I'm scared. But I feel like there might be away out of this mental prison I'm living in.

"...he had to time his need to reach out to humanity so that it might fall on a Tuesday*..."

Ruben--a beloved work friend--and I just had the most adventurous trip to the bank ever.

To begin with, we managed to pick the peak of the thunderstorm and wind during which to go. His giant golf-size umbrella immediately turned itself inside out. We, of course, found this hysterically funny. After waiting in line at the bank, I was helped by an extremely chatty teller. As he processed my transactions we talked about thunderstorms (love!) and earthquakes (hate!). I told him I was going to think of him the next time we had an earthquake, and he suggested we go out for a drink sometime. Next, Ruben and I went to his bank while his umbrella continued to blow itself inside out and we continued to laugh. On the way back a reporter for the Los Altos Town Crier asked if he could take our picture of us with our umbrellas for a story on storm preparedness.

It's nice to have a little excitement in the middle of the work day.

*Title quote from Dostoevsky's Notes From Underground

On rainbows

I have mentioned working with Engage As You Age before, and I am pleased to report that I am enjoying it very much. I have been placed with a spunky woman in her 70s confined to a motorized chair, D.

I find her incredibly inspiring.

One of my main tasks in working with D. is to help her learn to use her laptop computer. We work on email, and I teach her about things like Twitter, YouTube, Songza, Pandora, Mapquest, Wikipedia, Internet Movie Database (IMDB), Facebook, etc. When I arrive she always has a stack of articles clipped out of newspapers on things in which she's interested, and we set to work tracking them down.

As I've gotten to know D. better, we spend a greater and greater proportion of our time talking in addition to our computer use. She only offers little bits here and there about her life (and definitely doesn't want to talk about her injury), but really wants to hear anything I have to say about friends, work, travel, running, etc. We have a surprising amount in common. I love talking to her; she has a very sharp memory and a frequently sarcastic sense of humor.

What amazes me about D. the most is her outlook on life. She is in an assisted living facility in her motorized chair. She spends most of her time alone and has two windows through which to view the rest of the world--the house next to her facility. But she never shows me that she feels sorry for herself. She gathers things that she likes around her--scented oils, stuffed animals, flowers, small bird figurines, pretty calendars, pictures, quotes--and makes her home.

Yesterday, D. asked me to do her a favor and stop and purchase two single-use, disposable cameras for her. I was happy to do so, and when I brought them along with me she was absolutely thrilled. She interrupted our happy greeting to say, "Do you see any rainbows outside?" I peered out each one of her windows at the sky. It was raining lightly, and the sun was barely peeking through the clouds.

"Not yet," I told her, "but maybe if the sun comes out more we will."

We went back to talking about her cameras, and she asked me to get the pictures from two other cameras developed that she'd already used. I agreed, and said, "D., what do you take pictures of?"

"Rainbows," she said simply. "It was God's way of telling Noah that the rain was over, and his way of promising not to flood the land like that again. Seeing a rainbow is a sign we're doing something right."