Silent Running

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Once again I am home because there is no job.

Once again I’m thinking if Jon can handle the strain of working for both of us in a job he hates and if I am any good at taking care of my autistic son when he can’t be in school.

Once again I am wondering about a lot of things. But most of all I am wondering about why I am sitting for the nth time in front of fucking Facebook trying to find some company, which has all but evaporated in real life. It’s not as if it has ever worked before, has it?

Friendship. Such a strange thing. I had a lot of that when I was young. But then things changed. I screwed up a lot but I ended up with a family, and that was it. Or so I thought.

This desert town … it has been difficult to wring friends from it. And the few I have been able to catch have slipped again. Jocelyn moved. I don’t know what the hell is going on with Jenna these days. And that’s about it.

I’m not sure a job would help, although it sure would help a lot of other things. But at least it might give me the feeling of being with other people, no matter who. That’s like fast food when you really need a good lunch, but it’s better than eating nothing.

So Facebook … why don’t you give me something, at least some distraction I have not seen a hundred times before? How about the news?

I should go out. But where to? COVID is only retreating ever so slowly and we haven’t gotten our jabs yet. It would break a lot of things if we got it in the house, maybe some things beyond repair.

Who is active on Facebook aside from people who don’t know how to help themselves, or who fancy insulting others from a distance, or who are eternal lurkers like moi?

So what are the strategies? Aside from getting a new job, holding the family together, trying not to get COVID, getting this mess of a house in some order, getting something on with my husband so we can remember why we married, getting … well, the list is bloody long. But aside from all the immediate shit that’s always trying to flood my mind and my life, all the incessant demands, then what?

What strategies do a 42-year-old woman have in this little piece of nowhere on the border to Mexico? Should I wait for somebody to find the money for a new NGO, like the one that closed where I did a lot of interpretation for scared shitless immigrants while Jocelyn kept the legal stuff together for them in this strange new world? There are still some to go around.

It’s not as if I have a lot of time, because the flood is coming after me. But I’ll drown in my own fucking alone-ness before it reaches me if I don’t do something. I can’t be in my own skin a day longer. I have to get out.

I get up from the computer and get ready to go pick up Michael from his special needs class in school. It’s not his early day, but recently his anxiety has been messing with him so we agreed that I should get him early and drive him home at least until this one passes, too. If it does.

So the car is home for once, and that is nice. But I will only use it for this. In a little more than a few minutes, I will be on my way and my strategies will prick in my mind and try to breathe and get air, while the flood is coming full force.

I will think about what I can do to meet some bloody people again and get some bloody connection going, and at the same time be a little guilty that it’s not enough with my son (or my daughter who does not hate me this week, for that matter).

Or Jon, whenever he gets home. And we should try to wring some quality time from that homecoming, right? Even after 10 PM, right?

I will have to do at least one thing while my head is relatively clear, before I go out of that door, fetch the car keys, having wasted another day in paralysis.

I will have to reach out. Somehow. Somehow for real.

Even if I get nothing, I will have to do something real, but what?

I don’t know, but I close Facebook and get off my butt. Then we’ll see.

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