Pendulum

September wore me out. The wild swings from bad to good to fucking awful left me drained.

The Bad

The month opened with a car repair that was quickly followed by the discovery that someone hit my car in a parking lot. Between all the repairs to my car, I spent just over $1,000 — money that I absolutely did not expect to spend.

This all happened the week just before two dear friends got married. Mind you, that in itself is good. No — it’s better than good, it’s fabulous. Truly. They are two of the most wonderful men I know. The bad is that I couldn’t go. Today, three weeks after the wedding of the century, it still makes me sick that I couldn’t go. I just didn’t have the money. And yes, I know in the long run, I made the right decision, especially since it turned out that I had surprise car repairs. It still sucked. I haven’t even been able to read the poem someone read during the ceremony. Or listen to the playlists one of the grooms burned for me. And as badly as I want to see photos, every time I look at their page on Facebook, I damn near cry. I feel like I failed them. (More on this later.)

The Good

I’m still in love. Totally, ridiculously head over heels in love. And no, I still haven’t said anything. I can’t, not yet. But he would be a fool not to be able to tell. And I think he likes me too. Now whether he likes me enough to actually go out with me, we’ll have to see when the time comes.

I had a surprise freelance job last week, and I have another next weekend. The one last week was a cookbook, so in addition to getting a much-needed extra check, I got some great recipes. The one next weekend is for The Big Deal Company, which has asked me for the third year in a row to do its annual report. I wish I could do more for them. Someday, perhaps.

One of my favorite people had a baby. A boy, AJ. He is precious. Very, very good.

It was also a month full of family. Kicking it off was a visit by my parents, who stopped through for a night before heading to Baltimore to go on a bus trip to Quebec City. My mother was in rare form, as she often is when she’s with my father. She’s like a child who has to show off. She was a bitch, is what I’m saying. My father can barely talk to me about … anything, really, without her shitting all over the conversation.

Yeah, I know that that wasn’t exactly good, but it leads to this: The next week, one of my cousins, Rick, stayed with me for a few days while waiting for a military hop to Germany to see his kids. He’s of the younger generation of cousins. He’s 15 years my junior, so he feels more like a nephew than a cousin. Anyway, it was fun getting to know him as a person — as a friend, really — instead of just a cousin I see occasionally. We discovered some surprising things we had in common. I was kind of sad when he finally got a flight out, despite also being glad to have my place back to myself.

He was still here when my parents stopped back by on their way back home the next weekend. It was good for him to be close to family, too, given what happened at the end of the month.

The Awful

There was a death. I have an uncle who has not been doing well, and recently he’s gotten worse. So we’ve been expecting him to go soon.

But that wasn’t who died. It was a cousin’s husband. A man I’ve known since I was a little girl took his own life on the 21st. Of every member of my family, through marriage or by blood, he was the one I least expected to do something like this. Not because he was ever the life of the party, but because he was also so calm and even-tempered. He and my cousin had been together since they were in junior high school. Really, even before then. It is still hard to believe.

I went down for the funeral Thursday. In the car at the cemetery, my parents, another cousin, and I were all talking about how shocking it was that he of all people would do this, how supportive he was to his wife as they helped take care of so many in their church. My father said something interesting: He was so busy taking care of other people that he didn’t take care of himself.

Which takes me back to the whole thing I said above about how I feel like I failed my friends. I do the same thing. I am so worried about others’ happiness that I often neglect my own. And by “often” I mean “always.” It’s why I feel like such a bad friend for missing the wedding earlier this month — I feel like I disappointed two people I care about. That I made the right decision for me (and my financial health) doesn’t seem to matter.

I have no one to take care of me. While my parents took care of the basics growing up — food, clothing, shelter — they failed miserably with emotional support. I’ve gone without it so long that I don’t know how to ask for it. And when it’s offered freely, I don’t know how to accept it — I don’t want to appear needy.

I don’t know how to fix this personality failing. And I don’t know how to end this post.

* * *

Anyway, September ended like it began: unpleasant. I stepped on a small nail last night (my fault; I left the board with the nails face up instead of face down), so this morning found me at a walk-in clinic to get a tetanus shot. Happy October!