Yet another massive Nor’easter had shut things down and I was so VERY over it. I hated they gray. Hated the snow and never-ending winter. Hated my neighbors and their parking spot hogging, Tejano music blaring, garbage spilling genially oblivious ways. I hated this stupid city running around ticketing and towing everyone they could.

And I’ll confess, the thing I hated most was my own poor planning – no coffee or chocolate in the house during a storm while PMSing? I know better than that.

Tired and stressed out, I gave in and had a cranky pity party, ranting to a friend that I thought maybe this was it- I couldn’t take this place any more and I was seriously considering how to pull off a move because, what the hell! It’s not like I have any ties here anyway!

Cue the Wayne’s World transition sequence…

Say such things and the universe takes note, deciding to show me what a rough week really looked like. The next 24 hours brought news of one death, one recurrence of cancer and one unbelievable tragedy to a beloved granddaughter.

The surprising part wasn’t how hard it all hit me, or the support given and received. It wasn’t even the unexpected fits of bawling that crept up on me.

No, the surprising part was that these things were happening to coworkers, not family.

This place that had become impossible to work full time had morphed into a pleasure to work at part time, and despite having not had a real day off in weeks, it had proven hard to give up. The comparatively few hours I was able to work made me something of a novelty and my arrival was greeted with cheers and all the latest gossip, not to mention bear hugs. And we could all use more bear hugs in our lives.

Hearing all of this terrible news in our little group took some processing. The hugs were a little fiercer, the admonitions of “you’d better take care of yourself, dammit,” a bit more pointed. With a funeral the next day and emotional exhaustion knocking me off my feet, there was no way I was cooking dinner, so when I clocked out, I headed to our odd little Italian joint for some takeout.

This place, well, let’s be honest: I’ve made fun of it quite a lot. They have a killer weekday take out pizza for $9.99 and pour a mean drink. But the patrons tend to be a little…colorful. Imagine Cheers set not in a big city but in a town struggling to get by in the shadow of a big city. Even the name- “Youngest Brother” – seems like it has a little bit of a chip on its shoulder.

I never order ahead of time, instead saddling up to the bar with my phone or other distraction in hand so I can just eavesdrop, and I’ve never left without some nugget of “wisdom” to share when I get home.* I don’t really interact with anyone, preferring the fly-on-the-wall approach because I genuinely don’t know what would come out of my mouth if they asked me what I thought about our current government or why everyone ought to be allowed to walk around with bazookas if they want to.**

So imagine my surprise when I walk in and get a big sort of…cheer? From behind the bar? And I’m kind of looking around to see who they’re excited about? And a little confused because I’m the only one around? And before I get to a barstool, a very large, very strong Jack and Coke is waiting for me with Mary the barmaid announcing to all and sundry how THRILLED she is that I’m there, because they’re “all fucking nuts” and she needed to talk to somebody “smart” and “regular” (quotes, all) for once.

None of which made a whole lot of sense to me, because I really couldn’t tell you about a single conversation I’ve had there, other than once being told that I was weird for not liking cannoli, but that I was probably still a “keeper” because I still brought them home for Mr. Pixel.

And then I actually allowed myself to get drawn into the fringes of the argument currently going on- whether getting bagels hot out of the oven were worth driving an hour away at 6am.  For what it’s worth, I was firmly on the “no” side, but then again there’s very little I’d be willing to schlep to do at that hour.

But while the debate raged around me, I marveled at this thing that had happened without my realizing it. Somehow, despite my feeling isolated, alone, and adrift, I’d made some connections after all. It wasn’t exactly what or how I’d pictured things, but it turns out that it’s still pretty nice to show up where, as the song says, “everybody knows your name.”

Even if you’re not quite sure how they learned it.

*My possible favorite was the night Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin was on, and a very lively conversation ensued about how, these days, adults would just screw everything up, not like back then (?) when kids could be kids… and Lucy would be considered a bully!

I mean…isn’t the Lucy thing kind of a central point of the story you’re supposed to take away? And adults could give kids rocks for treats, I guess that’s a good, character building sort of thing from this point of view? And small kids could stay out all night lost in the pumpkin patch? I don’t know, but it certainly always gives me something to chew over and consider because, frankly, these aren’t the sorts of people I’ve normally had in my life.

**actual discussion one night

Yesterday was…bad. Bad at home, bad at work*, bad internally. Maybe the full moon, maybe Mercury retrograde, maybe just “one of those days,” but I’ve been thinking I’ve been doing okay, holding it together, until being given unsolicited advice I probably needed to hear, and I realizing the only one I’ve been fooling is myself.

It was: “Don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s given in the spirit of ‘it takes one to know one,” and as someone who’s been there: you’re going to kill yourself if you keep going like this. You need to find a happy space, start taking care of yourself, and probably get medicated. Soon.”

And It was hard to hear, but as I considered how I’ve been dealing with the exhaustion, the stress, the disease, the job(s)…He’s not wrong. I’ve driven myself nearly manic.

I think a lot of us do- everyone in general, but caretakers in particular.

We’re often so isolated that there’s no one there to point out the obvious to us, even though we’ve heard it all- “You can’t pour from an empty cup,”. “Put your own airmask on before attempting to help others,” etc etc. Maybe we’re so busy just coping that we don’t let anyone in enough to see the truth of what’s going on. Or maybe, most painfully, that the people around us just find it easier to remain willfully oblivious. Or that those people around us are so busy dealing with their own pain that they can’t see ours.

This near stranger saw me for a minute, likely more clearly than I’ve been seeing myself.

———————————————————————————–
*in retrospect, the work part is kinda funny, now that I’m not in the middle of it. Rough night all around on the phones, everybody’s mad, everybody’s in a hurry, I get it. But the last call is someone who is bellowing, losing his mind for a good half hour, calling me all kinds of names…because his internet went down for 5 minutes. It’s back up now, but I have RUINED HIS WEEKEND and he is “HIGH AND DRY NOW- WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THAT, HUH??!”

Turns out dude had some “Netflix and chill” action going on, and when the internet went off for those few minutes, she left. Sweetheart, if she was out the door that fast, she was looking to get out anyway.

Funny now…when I was being screamed at and accused of all kinds of things, not so much, especially exhausted, burnt out, and allowing his profane name-calling to get to me. Perspective and balance: I will find them again.

I’ve found myself in one of those cycles where everything seems to be going wrong- and in expensive ways, which just ratchets up the stress levels: the dog got hurt and was touch and go for awhile. The heat/hot water were out for days. Car problems. Sickness. Rough holidays. The hurricane-force blizzard that was Grayson.

But in the middle of all of this, my beloved New Orleans Saints kept marching along toward the playoffs. Perversely I was getting more miserable the closer they came. As soon as I allowed myself to acknowledge this contradiction it became perfectly clear that I’ve been not just homesick but timesick.

This is the time of year when things really kick into high gear back at home. Twelfth Night was yesterday and kicks off Carnival season- with a few parades, of course. King Cakes everywhere! Parties, friends, food, things warming back up…and I am missing it.

But it was nine years ago that Superbowl fever really took over the city.

Looking through that rearview mirror those were among the best, most fun months of my life- I have the pictures to prove it!

[foogallery id=”2170″]

It’s these days that I find the hardest- the ones where you can pinpoint where you were and what amazing thing you were doing at a precise moment- in contrast to today, where you, say, had to get the car jumped three times (really) standing in sub-zero temps. And photographic evidence of how wonderful it was can drive that knife home when everything seems bleak.

And yet…

2009 was also only a year after the stock market/housing collapse. Things were in free fall and we’d lost just about everything, although Mr. Pixel tried to shield me from the worst of it. He’d fallen into a deep, deep depression. He did come out to see the games and got out of himself for those few hours, but refused to attend a single parade or party. We fought. A lot. It was also the year I closed my business, which was a difficult decision and process. I’d started a “regular” job where I’d meet some of my best friends, but also worked for a boss who had a whole subscription’s worth of issues. And hell, Superbowl Sunday both my daughter and good friend ended up in urgent care- daughter, away at college, taken by her roommate, friend by me. Both missed the big day, both were very worrying…and yet, in my memory, the clearest part of that was the “fun” of having to dodge through the parades to get to the doctor with my shivering, feverish, very sick patient.

Looking at the past through that rose-colored rear view mirror is dangerous, because its focus is so narrow. It cuts off everything on the periphery until the memory so occluded it has little relationship to reality.

Yes, it was a good time, but possibly it seems like such a bright, shining star because there was also quite a bit of darkness around, too.

Just as, dark as these few weeks have been, if I breathe and let myself see it, there was a lot of light, too. A coworker did an mindbogglingly kind deed, sending her plumber out in the middle of the night to deal with my furnace/water heater, despite knowing I could not pay because of the emergency vet bills. He refused to even give me a bill. Words cannot describe my gratitude, and even astonishment that she would do that for someone she doesn’t even know very well. The dog is improving, and getting back to his feisty self. Hubby holds steady, and is getting ready for a second knee surgery that should restore much of his mobility. I might’ve found (or rather, been found by) a potential new friend who’s going to show me why this “is the most gorgeous part of the world” come this spring.

Last but not least, I start a new job in two weeks- one with much less physical labor and much better pay that should take some of the pressure off. For the first time in several years, I feel that this New Year has potential.

And, hey, so do the Saints! There’s a pot of roast beef on the stove for po boys/disco fries and cold beer in the fridge. So maybe we won’t be watching the game in a theater with a couple hundred fans, or heading to the French Quarter afterward. It’s enough- more than enough- if I remember to keep facing forward, through a windshield that’s maybe a little dirty and dim, but has that potential we all need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.