Back from Louisiana
Ok, ok. I'll blog again. Been in reintegration overload. Time to get back to business.
Life has been hectic since I got home. Starting with the coming home... My husband and "the Girliez" and a Home Depot hijacked friend redid my livingroom while I was gone. They moved out the wood stove, expanded the stage to cover the entire front of the room, painted the wall, put in a sky light and 2 ceiling fans. Wow! I jaw dropped. Now I'm really itching for the new carpet, but my 2 weeks of "unpaid leave" have left the bank book a little light. Soon enough.
I'm having some "reintegration pains" being back in "civilian life." I find I cry at in-opportune moments, and almost daily on my way home from work. My work here seems so much less important, and I struggle with accepting my job as fullfilling. I am finding I am angry with my co-workers who blast FEMA at every turn and who praise the local medical team that self deployed, avoiding the "governmental red tape" and who look at what I did as "the easy way out." I don't see them helping, "the easy way" or any way. Some didn't even donate to our dress down day to benefit the huricane victims because it didn't occur in their own backyard. I'm tired of telling the same stories over and over again, and while I know he means well, I'm tired of my dad telling me how proud he is. I did this not for me. This was not an ego thing. This was an opportunity to care for my fellow brothers and sisters on this planet. I don't want accolades, but I do want people to be mindful of the blessings in their lives.
I find I am keeping way too busy, maybe to avoid thinking, feeling... I find I have not contacted anyone I was with in Louisiana (except Bob and Rory who were with me in the thick of it) as I feel they can't understand where I am right now. Bob and Rory, Ben and Seth are the only ones that can know what that was like. I spend too much time looking at the pictures, organizing them, arranging them, cropping them, reliving them. Like gawking at an accident scene.
I look at the fall leaves differently. They seem so remarkable this year. So vibrant. I appreciate the little things. I cried with a demented lady at work the other night. She was so confused and disoriented, reminding me of the little lady on the bus to LCCC who was sure she was being abandoned.
I am not a crier. It's just not the type of person I am. I feel like an emotional mess, but am letting my feelings occur. They obviously need to get out. Suppress them, and I'm heading for an ulcer.
My husband and son have been very loving. They are giving me my space I need when I need it, and holding my hand when I let them. I never thought this would be such an impact on my life.
I'm ok, really. Just surprised. I think I am dealing ok. But I feel weak.
Strange?
So, it's good to be home. I missed everyone so, but my heart is timesharing in Louisiana with the people I did and didn't help.
Life has been hectic since I got home. Starting with the coming home... My husband and "the Girliez" and a Home Depot hijacked friend redid my livingroom while I was gone. They moved out the wood stove, expanded the stage to cover the entire front of the room, painted the wall, put in a sky light and 2 ceiling fans. Wow! I jaw dropped. Now I'm really itching for the new carpet, but my 2 weeks of "unpaid leave" have left the bank book a little light. Soon enough.
I'm having some "reintegration pains" being back in "civilian life." I find I cry at in-opportune moments, and almost daily on my way home from work. My work here seems so much less important, and I struggle with accepting my job as fullfilling. I am finding I am angry with my co-workers who blast FEMA at every turn and who praise the local medical team that self deployed, avoiding the "governmental red tape" and who look at what I did as "the easy way out." I don't see them helping, "the easy way" or any way. Some didn't even donate to our dress down day to benefit the huricane victims because it didn't occur in their own backyard. I'm tired of telling the same stories over and over again, and while I know he means well, I'm tired of my dad telling me how proud he is. I did this not for me. This was not an ego thing. This was an opportunity to care for my fellow brothers and sisters on this planet. I don't want accolades, but I do want people to be mindful of the blessings in their lives.
I find I am keeping way too busy, maybe to avoid thinking, feeling... I find I have not contacted anyone I was with in Louisiana (except Bob and Rory who were with me in the thick of it) as I feel they can't understand where I am right now. Bob and Rory, Ben and Seth are the only ones that can know what that was like. I spend too much time looking at the pictures, organizing them, arranging them, cropping them, reliving them. Like gawking at an accident scene.
I look at the fall leaves differently. They seem so remarkable this year. So vibrant. I appreciate the little things. I cried with a demented lady at work the other night. She was so confused and disoriented, reminding me of the little lady on the bus to LCCC who was sure she was being abandoned.
I am not a crier. It's just not the type of person I am. I feel like an emotional mess, but am letting my feelings occur. They obviously need to get out. Suppress them, and I'm heading for an ulcer.
My husband and son have been very loving. They are giving me my space I need when I need it, and holding my hand when I let them. I never thought this would be such an impact on my life.
I'm ok, really. Just surprised. I think I am dealing ok. But I feel weak.
Strange?
So, it's good to be home. I missed everyone so, but my heart is timesharing in Louisiana with the people I did and didn't help.
posted by Angela | 12:41
1 Comments:
The leaves are much more vibrant this year than they have ever been before. I think it may have to do with all the rain... How that which cries makes the world so much more beautiful.
That said - fuck anybody who doesn't understand. Stop making it your job to help them. They are seriously the people you need to just leave alone and let them live in their ignorance and unfelt shame. What an immense gift you have received that you now have an even greater compassion and ability to understand others (like you really NEEDED this!). Would you have cried for that disoriented woman before? No. Would you have felt as sad for your colleagues ignorance before? No. So tell me, really, doesn't one person matter. Remember the starfish story? You are the one that matters. Others will have to find their own little hand that someday picks them up and throws them into the ocean to make them truly live again. Or not. Maybe they will just die on the beach.
As for your father, oh - life's rough! Suck it up! Better still, remember where you learned your kindness, your generosity, your devotion, your caring, and you tell him each time he says he's proud of you, "Thank you for making me who I am." All flaws aside, for both ourselves and our parents, they have made us who we are. We fine tune ourselves our whole lives, but our roots are clear, especially if they ever nurtured us into this life.
That goes for friends too. Because I'm proud of you. Deal with it. Hmmm, but I might just be more proud of Paul for the livingroom remodel... It's a toss-up right now...
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