A Tough Day

This last weekend Christina and I went to Austin, TX. This is the state capitol and a college town, notoriously left wing for Texas. It's between a two and three hour drive, a long journey in England but a brief jaunt in the USA. The place would be familiar to most of you, 100 year old brick buildings interlaced with skyscrapers, with sidewalks to walk around, restaurants and a surprising wealth of Irish pubs. We had a very good time, relaxed and without pressure, comfortable in our surroundings. We walked around the streets without more of a goal than to eat when hungry and drink when inclined. We had several delightful conversations with local people of a wide range of ages, from college students to a grizzled flutist.

The morning of the last day I woke up with mania, something that I suppose has happened to me all my life but now I am more aware of it, and I think also the symptoms are more severe now than they have ever been. I was more aware of noise, easily startled, unable to keep still, and everything upon which my attention landed felt like the most important thing in the world. Extremely stressful. Still, my wife was wonderful, calm and understanding, we returned to Portland and she went to bed at 8pm exhausted by the weekend and I stayed up until 1pm before lying down for a restless night of turning over and over. As a result I am tired today.

So that's where I am, the context for what has been a tough day. The return from Austin has highlighted certain aspects of my situation, and I am emotionally and physically tired. I sit here realizing that I am largely helpless to change much of my situation. I have no friends to talk to, and Austin showed me that I still can have easy conversations even with absolute strangers in a companionable way. Social interactions in the suburbs of Houston are based on work, children, and religion, three opportunities that I do not have. Today I reached the abject stage of looking on-line for some group that I could be a part of in order to have some social interaction. The results were a humanist lecture in ten days and possibly a soccer league in February. Today I am a little lonely.

One thing that had kept me going were the possibilities of an exit from the area, but these seem to be fading. The most likely scenario is that I will be here for another year, at the minimum. I think with Christmas coming and the idea of it being just the same as any other day I am somewhat disheartened. With the addition of a ridiculously sized bill from the homeowners association, an organization I would probably pay to not be in, and the constant decline that happens to any building (one of the great disadvantages to living in a nice house is that any change to it makes it worse, resulting in constant battle. I much prefer shabby.) that had me thinking about paying for more things didn't help.

So, I am lonely in a place that I don't like very much with essentially no prospects of anything changing in the next year. I have suffered over the last few days with a mental illness that comes and goes in a manner I cannot predict. I'm tired. It's a tough day.

However, I am also someone who has grown and learned through the years. I know that just a couple of days ago I was having a grand old time. I know good things will happen again. I know that this is just something that happens sometimes. I know enough to be grateful that my tough day is happening with a full larder, in a house I own, protected by a bank account that is filled by someone other than myself. I know that I am loved and someone lets me love them. I have always believed that I am a lucky person, that I have a lot, that the circumstances of my life have been excellent. This isn't a tough life, or a tough year, or a tough month. This is simply a tough day, and writing this had made it less so.