We Need To Talk- Round 2

This has been a LONG flipping week. Not even Friday yet, and I'm over this shit already. I'll start by saying that I spent last weekend in the mountains and it was beyond needed. The sun, the warmth, the laughter- it was a blessing. My plan was actually to parlay solo, but my friend stuck around (yay!), my son ended up coming and her son, who is my son's age, ended up staying home rather than going with his father, so all went well. Naturally, the morning after I arrived, I fell down the steps, turning my ankle, so I haven't been able to jog all week, despite finally having the time to do so. The swelling is finally going down.

On Monday I had a meeting with my professor to change a grade, so I can finally march this month. Tuesday, I had a follow-up interview with my internship. Stupidly enough, I expected to have this in the bag. Our first interview, I was asked if I'd be willing to commit to the position for a year, despite the pay. I explained that because I have so much love for the organization, a pay cut would be fine. Well, this go round, I was asked again why I wanted the position, especially being that this is not something that typically a person with a master's degree would seek. Um- WHAT?! Man, I've struggled like hell to make ends meet the whole time I was in school. I told myself a while back that whoever takes me, I'm in. No haggling. Job hunting is exhausting. Just hire me.

The question of my long-term goals came up. Without expressing too much, I simply told them that some shifts in my personal life have led me to reevaluate things and that I don't want a fancy ass job right now. Essentially, I'd just like the pleasure of paying rent without selling blood, plus I'd like to be able to eat more than once a day. The interviewer told me that upon graduation, she knew immediately what she'd wanted moving forward. I even told her that 3 months ago that I had my life planned down to the letter. But yeah, stuff happened. I also threw the interview by not being prepared when I misinterpreted what I was expected to do this time around so I did not come prepared. I didn't hear back. *shrugs*

Coincidentally, last week I got a call about a government position I'd applied for earlier, and they wanted me to interview the day after my follow up interview with the internship. I told myself that if it came down to it, I'd take the internship position, but the government job actually pays more, and it looks like I might just have it (fingers crossed), so at least there's that.

Now we get to today. *sigh* Met again with my therapist. Its funny how I go in without much to say, but by the end, I'm in tears all over again (in a much needed way though). I heed and hawed back and forth about my life, and what I want. Or don't want. About my many thoughts about death, but I don't want to die. How I'd recently looked at the symptoms of depression, and how many of them fit squarely into where I am now. I wondered aloud if I'm grieving, or is this depression, or some sort of midlife crisis? My therapist stated that it is quite possible that a midlife crisis could be caused my a trauma (such as a death). I told her how much I wish I could just fast forward by 6 months so that I could look back and properly identify whatever the hell it is that I'm going through.

I also told her about how my musical taste has shifted lately and I've been listening more to 1970's beach anthems like "Hotel California" or party songs like "All I Wanna Do" by Cheryl Crow. I admitted that being a black woman is fucking exhausting. We're expected to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. I also revealed to her how what I loved about Pete was that he always took care of stuff. No matter what it was, he handled it.You could always relax near him, because big or small, he did it. I've talked to his former colleague, the woman he worked with when he died, and she confessed that when things happen like the printer jamming, or bringing in water bottles, Pete did it. He was on it, without being asked. What I eventually realized was that he was a mirror of me. That's how people feel about me. Malika will handle it. Malika will figure it out. If Malika is here, its handled, relax. She's got it. Pete was me.

My therapist looked at me and said "There you go. You carry so much weight after holding the burden of others, it was nice to have someone around that let you finally relax because they'd handle things, even if it was the smallest of tasks." God it feels good to work through this and make it finally make sense.

Now we get to an hour ago. Tory calls me and says "we need to talk." I simply responded "good or bad?" "Bad" he said. I braced myself. "Well, its just that last week, you told me that you kissed Pete. I've been thinking about it ever since then. I remembered thinking that you pulled away a little before he died. Then I remembered you saying that you were surprised that I was so okay listening to you talk about him. That's why you've been unable to be affectionate or sexual, he was the person you expected to have sex with next, so you're kind of stuck." Damned if he didn't hit the nail on the head with that one. Tory then told me that ever since then, he gets angry when I mention Pete. I pulled a Malika (which is emotionally devoid, while being emotional).

I explained that I get it, and that I wish him the best. Just like I was the last time we had this speech, I'm unable to be too emotional about him. He ain't dead. Dead person gets the grief, I guess. But once we got off the phone, I thought about it. How the hell can he be salty at me for liking another guy, when he was the one going a snail's pace?! Via text (cuz I'm not one to argue), I reminded him that when I wanted the affection, he wasn't there. Hell, I even remember complaining to Pete about Tory taking his damned time with the physical stuff. (Out of respect, I didn't say that to Tory though). We exchanged a few more texts about it, but I let it go. No use crying over spilled milk. It STILL remains (just as was the case before) Tory has some stuff to work on. Shit, I just wrote 3 paragraphs about today's conversation with my therapist, so lord knows I need work. I admit it stings a bit more this time around, but the fact is that I'm still not going to chase him down. Perhaps he'll show back up, perhaps he won't. Doesn't matter though. Either way, I still gotta work on me.