I have always been a summer girl. Life is better at 90 degrees in the sun. But I am learning to embrace the fall, to submit to the winter, to pay attention to the changing of the leaves. It is time for soups and sweater weather. I am not angry at it…I am here for it.
That was the last thing I said here on October 10th.
Did I call the not-quite-so-angry-anymore bit a little too early? Not really. The “I am here for it”? Perhaps.
Y’all, I was, in fact, NOT here for it. I wanted to be. I tried to be. Some days were better than others. But I was still all over the place. More, I was sad. Like, not back in August sad. But a new, my-whole-life-is-a-sham sad. Like the kind of sad that isn’t homesick, but the kind that says there is no home and just stay in bed.
The last six weeks have been, I dunno, adjusting? That seems like a strange sentence structure, but it also seems to be the closest I can get to what it has been like.
I moved to Knoxville on July 23rd – nearly 2 weeks before my contract started and almost 3 weeks before I had to physically be anywhere. Why? Because I understood there would be an adjustment.
I began the semester with a schedule, even though my time was fairly flexible, and I have no one but myself and Decimal to contend with up here. Why? Because I understand the slippage of time.
I am diligent about my work and put forth more effort than some may think necessary. Why? Because I understand all the things I don’t know.
Intellectually, I understood all of this.
None of that helped. Ok, that’s dramatic hyperbole. Of course it helped. But it did not cure all the ills in any of the areas: there is still adjustment; I am still feeling frazzled at the end of the semester; I still feel the gaps in my understanding acutely.
There is a degradation that happens in sadness. I nearly said shift, but that is exactly the wrong word. It doesn’t just change like that; it morphs. And that is the power of it. The erosion of the true, good, and the beautiful is so gradual that you don’t even realize that it is happening. But it is, and that makes the sadness worse, creating this Neverending Story type cycle of consumption by the Nothing.
That Nothing came to a head last weekend. Outwardly, I was enjoying a doughnut and coffee. Inwardly, I was building a fortress to crawl into. I was closing down, shutting off, and hardening up, because that’s what sad people do to defend themselves. That’s what happens when you lose sight of the true, the good, and the beautiful.
By God’s grace, it didn’t last too long. Sunday was a beautiful day of God showing up and reminding me that he has everything handled. Of course, I am hardheaded, so when my Beloved asked me how my day was, I just shrugged it, “Okay, I suppose.” Why? Because that is the way I felt. Later, it occurred to me that the way it felt was not the way that it was. Moreover, that kind of disconnect had been happening A LOT lately. I had to call him back.
I was honest. I apologized for putting that on him when it wasn’t even true. I told him that I actually had a wonderful day. I realized I was having the hardest time regulating my emotions, correctly identifying them, and recognizing whether they reflected reality. He was sweet, told a stupid joke, and I laughed.
If closing off isn’t the way, perhaps opening up is. But I have to be mindful of how I do that. So often I use those moments of peopling as a distraction. That isn’t good for anyone. So, I started small. I decided to go to bed on time (a habit I had been neglecting), get a good night’s sleep, and talk to God about it in the morning.
That was the right call.
The first line from my journal that following evening?
“Today has started out like the start of a whole new world. I am cautiously optimistic. I suppose I should be unabashedly optimistic, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
Dramatic hyperbole? Perhaps. But I am still here for it.
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