Yet

I haven’t written in days. Which is the core of the angst I am dealing with. Yet I don’t know why I stopped other than the core of my angst was when I wrote. It is both, yet I was seeing it as I wrote and didn’t want to see it as I wrote yet need to see it as I wrote to know it’s there. Now I know it’s there yet I can’t see it because I have not written it. It’s just there. I just can’t see it. Becasue I quit writing it.

I’m not a labels person. I don’t need to say I am a girl. A female specifically, which is not a label yet a word for what my gender is. I just am. I never and don’t doubt it. I just don’t need to say it. I am woman../hear me what? Roar? Why? Do we? I can? But I’m also not a lion. I don’t identify with anything specific other than I am me. I work with a girl who says she identifies as just her name. Not as herself, just her name. She says it so much that I actually doubt her. She is afraid of herself. She can’t identify with anything it seems. Except fear, yet she also doesn’t like labels so she is not labeled as afraid. She just shows it. She put a post on her own page, which I don’t have pages so I didn’t see but saying that masks are the new face of customer service. Yet I can’t agree. Yet maybe I do. If we are evolving. I’ve said yet too many times. Like I’m trying to convince myself of something. Yet I’m not. Masks to me are hiding fear or showing it. I’ll do it simply because it’s recommended and it’s all we know to do other than never be with each other again and to wash ourselves to the point of oblivion. I’ve never been so clean, my baths are super clean. I have no dirt rims to clean anymore. I am just cleaner. Safer? I don’t know. I could say. Let me show you how clean my tub is. Then you will see how clean I am. How safe I am? Say this to who? I have just never been so clean, so distant and so unafraid. Yet afraid.

I don’t know that the new customer service could be called customer service if in fact we can’t serve customers. Maybe it’s her way to deal with what we evolve to? Maybe it’s the way it is? We can’t greet with warm friendly smiles. We can’t approach. We can’t assist. We can’t touch phones to look at plant photos. We can’t grieve and hug and mourn each other’s losses. We can’t become personal. We can’t serve our customers. It is not the new face of customer service unless you can self serve. Then what are some of us doing? Hiding behind our masks? Evolving?

I don’t mean to ever need to feel like I have to work through mask angst yet here I am. Yet I’m also still saying yet. Working through mask angst. My opinion is indifference and to allow others to have their own opinions but unfortunately I expect it back. I want people to stay away as much they want me to. It’s how I have always lived. Keep my circle small yet nearly non existent.

My circle was small yet I let too many in out of fear. My circle was too small. Then it got too big. I needed people. My dad died and I thought I needed the world for more than I thought. That my octopus arms had room for more. I grew more arms and can now smother more people. I was very wrong. I trusted someone and they snuck in and thought they earned it. She said. I don’t know what it is. I just have one of those faces that people will tell me anything and then I did. It wasn’t her face. In fact my first thought was I shouldn’t tell this person a single thing but yet here I am needing people and yet here she is sensing it. It was my own moment of time of weakness where I needed a face and an ear when my face and ears had died with the person I told the things to. The one I trusted. Yes one. My person is gone. I am not any less of a person just a lost person. Maybe not even lost yet more alone. Not even more alone yet more lonely. Also not lonely yet just plain missing a void that didn’t make me feel complete, my dad was my other whole.

On my own I am just a whole person. I require so little that it scares people away. That’s what my other whole person raised me to believe. To be ok, to find my way, listen to my gut, believe in myself, to do it myself. Not so much that others will consistently let you down yet that you can and don’t need them. Yet you will want one and them.

Why don’t my kids know things like that bread goes stale, automatically? It has to be taught? It seems like common sense to me yet I am certain I let bread go stale as a child from not knowing it goes stale when exposed to air for too long or from ripping the bag open in the middle and not untwisting the twists. What seems like common sense to me was once taught? How can I expect my kids to open things properly when they have witnessed me tear open and destroy boxes for the same reasons they do. I’m still a child when it comes to opening things.

I was never 20. I missed it. I was carrying my first baby in my belly and had just left the job I dreamed of as a ranger in the forests since I could speak. I was a grown up when I needed to be a grown up yet I turned 21 and enjoyed a glass of milk like a toddler. I was not a super young mom but I was never 20. I just missed it by 20 years and now I am feeling like I am 20. I just can’t act it. I forgot what girls can be like because I keep them from my circle. Like I keep all people from my circle. My circle isn’t really a circle. It’s maybe a triangle. Maybe even a dot. Maybe even nothing for now until I feel out of I need or want a circle or a triangle or even a shape at all?

It is risky to say things to people. They say them back and wrong. For reasons that they gain from. It is calculated and the risks are weighed and there is forethought and motive. There are feelings that will be hurt yet they won’t be theirs. I forgot that I am a just one person kind of person. Who doesn’t like labels. It takes so long for me to understand me let alone a bunch of people in a circle I don’t have yet might really be a triangle. Or not?

I cant handle the little red notifications on my apps. I also can’t handle many apps. I rented a car for the day to pick my sister up to prepare to say goodbye to her husband this weekend. She can’t drive and get left from home. She keeps coming up with reasons not to. She keeps getting sick to her stomach. She was cooped up alone battling coronavirus while her husband battled it alone in the hospital. Now she has to say goodbye without getting to say goodbye. She can drive but he always did. She needs someone to just come and do what he did for her this one time. My phone sinked my rental with my calendar making little red notifications on my calendar. Wrong sink, yet I am not correcting it. I don’t need reminded I rented a car. I don’t have a car while mine is being fixed so I don’t doubt the existence of rental. I don’t see not remembering to go get my rental car. So I can drive it. I can’t handle the red notifications. I will delete and say ok and just open to avoid seeing the notifications. They are too much pressure for me to see who I trying to get me to be notified. It worked. For me. I won’t notify back. I am angsty over being notified. I don’t want to be and don’t want to to others.

The universe put him in my path. I didn’t actively pursue him or look even. In fact I looked up one day and said I bet he will hike with me. It just happened. I was walking along and looking somewhere else and then turned back to my path that I really don’t know if I am on and he was in it. Is it right? I don’t know? Who is right? I don’t know? I just have to chose to believe that something is in the works that is written in the stars and I can’t read the stars so I stopped trying and never even really did. I just kind of like stars. Yet don’t know what they are saying. I let them tell the story. I wasn’t looking. I was definitely missing that person to help me up and to help me back and to help my on and out and around and through. That wouldn’t leave me on the other side of the road for not knowing how to get us off the side of the road. Who wouldn’t give up on me.

So many women. So little time. So many men. Same reason. Yet there are just too many. My friend is online and shopping for a man. That sounds so bad to say shopping but maybe looking? She has drawn me right into it. Not me personally but me for her personally. I am not shopping for a man. Or looking for one. If a man is on there to find his real connection than he isn’t going to find me. I believe a real connection is when you don’t look for it. When you let the stars do their thing and tell the stories we can’t read that are written. I know how you feel stars. I have to write to see to believe. Stars don’t feel. Or maybe they do? Who knows? We study the stars yet we shouldn’t read them it’s written not to be read yet just looked at.

I found a guy. Maybe he found me? We found each other through unresolved grief. It makes sense. I’ve been saying he is my guy for several weeks to no one but me. Not even to my triangle. Because I haven’t determined my shape since I decided needed the whole world. I love things n threes. Or maybe just in odd numbers. It bothers me octopus have 8 tentacles unless I think of them as 3 on one side and 5 on the other except I don’t know if an octopus has sides like we do. Are they a left or right? Or just all around?

I don’t like labels. I don’t like the idea of a boyfriend or a husband or a friend or a partner. He is a guy. A male. It’s simple and he has been mine for a few weeks and I didn’t tell him because I don’t know how. I also fear I’m not his something? He had a someone he lost. Im not trying to be his someone. I am not trying to be anything but me for once. I am trying to be someone who can help him get through losing his someone like he is me and doesn’t know it because I don’t know how to say it just write it. I also fear she is. She says she is and he says s he is not, my person is gone who tells me to listen to my gut and I have not learned how to listen to my gut yet or found someone that knows I need to sometimes be told to listen to my gut. Man not even spell check knows what I’m trying to say today. Usually I get close to a word and it will say it but type it or suggest it and tonight it is also just as angsty as me. My spell check has word angst. I caused it. I want to get back on my time machine and leave junior high. I wasn’t ever 20 and don’t want to be a 14-20 year old again just because I missed 20 doesn’t mean I need to go back in time and say, be 20. Or be around 20. But really 14. I just happen to look it. I confuse people when I say my age they don’t believe me. I stopped telling people. Does it matter? Why does it? Why do I have to check that box with all the other labels just to finish and complete a school registration and or any thing. What does this data tell a bank? A school? A census? It gives them numbers of people who have labels. You can not submit anything without successfully filling all the boxes in. I get label angst from being labeled.

I’m sitting in my tub sideways. All my water ran out. I love a good bath but lately I don’t. I am bored and it’s so small. And I’m cleaner than I usually am. I’ve been sitting in tubs reading and writing for so long. Years. I won’t tell you how many since you know I’m not 20 if I give any other numbers than they could be added to come up with one that I am but feel i am not. I’m sitting in my own filth I am told. How dirty am I? Really dirty actually. I work in dirt. Yet I have been cleaning my arms and legs and hands so I don’t have viruses on them. Dirt used to rim my tub if I sat too long. I would have pieces of plants and mulch and flowers I forgot are in my hair floating all around me. Yet here is am in clean water and a clean tub with no dirt rim filth. And I am disappointed? Bored? My tail bone hurts. I broke it once falling off a ladder removing ivy from a building on campus. Before I looked this over it said I fell off a lady. Not a ladder. See, spell check angst. Sideways tub bathing angst and just plain angst. The end of my tail bone points to one side. I have a little tail. You can’t see it yet I have to sit a certain way to avoid it.

I can’t figure out and don’t want to google why bees die when they sting you. I know that the stinger is attached to the guts, or Im told, maybe and so when they sting you they gets their guts ripped out. Imagine that. This thought makes me sick to my stomach. Bee sting guts angst. I avoid letting bees sting me not from the pain for me but for them. They mean business. Stay away or I will die. Not just die but my guts will be ripped from me. Think of that before you start trying to spray me with water and making me leave my place. I just have a simple job to do. Why can’t bees evolve into something less dramatic? Are bees still evolving or have they always been this way? Is that it? They will just always die if they sting you? It seems like poor design yet also brilliant if you consider that a bee will die if they sting you yet that a bee hurts when it stings you. Change your thoughts? We should evolve? Yet we don’t? Or is that what we are doing now? Yet to fear. Maybe we should get stingers and die if we sting others? Yet the idea of my guts being ripped out is enough to stay away from others so my guts won’t be ripped out when I sting them from fear of them being to close. Masks. Let’s just do that. I don’t even know if the guts thing is true.