umm...
I wanted to stay working as a social worker at an AIDS outreach but th ere were some things I just couldn't handle... so I left.
I am now nanny-ing part time and looking for... something full time. But something that hopefully won't drive me crazy or make me want to quit after 3 years.
A bajillian cities in Alabama and a good section of the south was hit by asshole storms that threw tornadoes everywhere. Last week and part of this week I had extra house guests who had no power in their house. I cooked for them a lot and they cooked AWESOME stuff for me!
Today I volunteered at a local agency helping out with whatever random thing needed done for a few hours. It was awesome. My needs for chaos, exercise and feeling helpful were met in one fell swoop (and I ate some excellent home made chocolate fudge that was brought by someone for the hundreds of volunteers).
And now, I'm looking at the facebook page of a man who has been dead almost 5 months. Every time I see his name, I want to look at the page. And every time I look at the page, I am reminded of why I stopped having friends and opening up to people. We were friends but it wasn't deep but somehow there is a hole in my heart the size of the damned grand canyon. It hurts. Being open to people HURTS. It's amazing, but sometimes the pain makes me wonder if it's worth it. It's hard to be open, it's hard to force myself to be sociable enough to make friends, and it's always complicated because I am a tangled mess of emotions and, so often, the people I deem "worthy" are, too. It's so hard just to say hi and have a conversation about random things like music some days and it's so hard to trust that something won't happen and I won't screw up or won't forget them or they won't hate me or leave me, and then... something fucking happens. It's life; it happens. But.
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