Isolationism

As you may have gathered from comments in another thread, my grandfather on my mother’s side passed away late on Tuesday night. We’re headed to Midland to say our goodbyes this weekend, so this blog will be sparsely populated with news for another few days around here to come. My thanks go out to all who have offered their condolences. He will be missed.

There hasn’t been much to say to make it worth posting lately. I’ve been generally disinterested about following the news, although the few things I care about seem to be going ill and leave me feeling sick and wanting to withdraw further from the world. My schedule has been badly out of balance the past week or two—staying up late to work or draw, or just because I don’t feel tired, and sometimes waking late, sometimes not (but always feeling more worn down than when I went to bed). Headaches come easily to me if I didn’t already wake up with one. It seems like moments of happiness are as brief as the interludes of sunlight that have managed to filter through the rain for a few brief moments every few days before vanishing as quickly as they arrived.

I managed to get excited about working on creating art for its own sake again after a long hiatus, but there isn’t much else I’m looking forward to at the moment; for some people and some arts unhappiness can be a great motivator, but it doesn’t do shit-all for me, which is why I haven’t produced anything since Marc’s portrait.

Upon Nyam’s return we discovered Marc has decided to extend his stay in Taipei for another year (not a surprise, but we had still hoped) which was heavy on my mind as I worked on the piece. I’m so glad for Marc at having found an abundance of things to do and discover; I know how he thrives on activity and never once even thinks to complain about having too much to do, being too tired, or turning down any offer to add more to his plate. I wish we could go on one of our hours-long walks now; his complete understanding and optimistic confidence that things will improve always cheers me when I feel this way.

Michel and Adrienne are still coming home for the year-end holidays (I hope, anyway) but the relative permanence of their relocation to Great Britain is starting to sink in, especially considering how happy they both are in London. I really do wish you guys the continued excitement these new challenges can bring; I know you’ll continue to excel at all you do. I’m sorry I talked so much about my life instead of asking you about yours, Michel—Life is anything but exciting here while I know you both have so much to share about your new experiences in England.

MCM is still away in British Columbia with any likelihood of return (permanent or otherwise) vanishingly small for the forseeable future. He may even now be without power or worse—bailing out his basement from the recent heavy downpour on the west coast; I hope I’m worrying for nothing. Anyway, I guess the physical distance hasn’t changed our relationship much since we haven’t met in person lately—but not for lack of wanting. It would be nice to see you, your wife, and your beautiful children again. I hope for good news regarding your mother in law.

Pat’s recent progress has been a ray of light against an otherwise dark existence for over a year now, but he’s far from being in the clear. The cost of treatment for his condition is enough to make me want to cry, least of all because we couldn’t help if we wanted to, nor could we afford to consider the same treatment if our positions had been reversed and I had rolled the snake-eyes instead of him. He manages to soldier on regardless, and came out to visit us recently, a pleasant if brief interlude in an otherwise monotonous existence.

Work hasn’t been great, either. Although through no fault of mine, it seems as though our project is forever behind schedule, and the debt collector has recently begun to make his rounds. I feel as though my performance has been exemplary in nearly every regard and my achievements noteworthy—but the rest of the team ever falls further behind. I try to help wherever I can, more often than not exceeding not only my area of interest but also my expertise—but lately I feel as though my plate is being piled high with what is distinctly someone else’s job, and am made to feel bad for not jumping at the opportunity to do someone else’s work.

My mental and physical exhaustion are deeply seated; I haven’t had an actual vacation in two years, although I did take a week of leave in February as I was in the hospital, and another in September to experience (and recover from) the birth and first few days of life of my son. The latter was supposed to be for two full weeks but I returned to the yoke early—not only to a complete lack of recognition let alone gratitude, but also to the bluntly stated news that there would be no more vacation until the holiday season (e.g. after the product was scheduled to be released). The release date is, of course, forever pushed back—It has since been moved to the new year. I wonder if I’ll be allowed to take my agreed PTO, or whether I will be forced to fight to receive monetary compensation instead (as the only time I have heard of this being willingly given by my employer is upon termination of employment).

The monotony of working at home—and so hard, at that, to secure my employment—has caused the days to melt together more than I can remember having happened in a long time. If our financial predicament could afford me working anywhere else, I’d be updating my resumé and having my suit pressed.

The new addition to our family is an exciting one, and every day has a few brief smiles and moments of sheer joy, but the cost is offset by the weight not only of his daily care (which falls most heavily on Bex shoulders although I try to help out as much as I’m able) but also the weight of responsibility that another very small, fragile and unimaginably precious life depends utterly on my continued support to have a roof over his head to protect him from the stinging cold of the continuous November rain and the colder weather that follows, and two healthy parents so that we have a chance to raise him to be healthy, strong, bright and responsible in his own right.

I like to think of myself as a practical person, and one not easily given over to depression—but my problem seems to be that the tunnel looks so dark and long with no end in sight … for years. Here’s hoping another unexpected ray of sunshine manages to break through my cloud cover soon, if only to illuminate the road ahead for a little while.