I am an Emotional Sponge

Full disclosure: I have been and am still feeling the stun of Muriel’s death. I am reading more ancient Greek and Latin in a meager attempt to find comfort or reason or connection with her, since she too was fluent in these beautiful languages.

A’s business has been down this month, and he’s worried. When he’s worried, he overreacts. I mean, I’m worried too, but what can we do? We do our best, I’m flyering around town, I’m talking to other business owners in town and spreading the word. We can only do so much.

But I don’t have about half-my-life invested in the business…so it is different. I grant that, and I appreciate that.

Still, I guess with Muriel’s death, my perspective has been shifted and I’ve once again been reminded of what truly is important. Community. Connection. Friendship. Love. Activism.

A has been coming home in a bad mood. He’s not mean, he’s just…not himself. Okay, so I suppose he is himself, just grumpy. Given my own emotional vulnerability right now, I’m taking his bad mood personally.

So last night, in an attempt to refrain from being an emotional sponge and to protect my “core”, I wrote in my journal. As in, with pencil on paper. I was going to post it here, but it’s pretty raw. I know, I know. I’ve posted pretty raw things here before, and I still do and will. But some things are meant to be quiet.

So I will continue to do what I can. I try my best: you cannot reasonably expect any more from me.