Temporary

Having my belongings packed into moving boxes indicates to me a temporary state, a state where I know I'm going to move again. I have lived out of boxes since 1991 when my now-ex-boyfriend and I moved into a house that turned out to be dirty and too uncomfortable to live in. In our next apartment, we kept boxes packed in the second bedroom, even tho' the apartment was more than comfortable. If I had lived there alone I might have kept it. But I left it when I left him. Perhaps we knew the relationship was, by that time, temporary.

When I bought my first house, I left a roomful of boxes packed, taking up the space in my second bedroom for far too long. Then I moved them upstairs so I could at least inhabit that bedroom as an office and a comfy place to hang out, with a twin bed in the corner where I could look outside into my back yard. I lived there for eight years — hardly temporary. When I moved almost 300 miles away because everything had changed, all I cared to take with me permanently was that house, something I long for even now 10 years later.

Talking to Strangers

When I was a child, I was amazingly outgoing and would talk to anyone who stood still long enough. I once introduced myself to a new mailman with my name, followed by "and I'm cute!" I knew it was true because everyone told me so.

But my dad was a cop, so he worked hard at teaching us, me especially, not to talk to strangers. Between that, puberty-onset shyness, and my inherent introversion, I became quite good at not talking to strangers. (I could still talk to friends who stood still long enough.)

But now I must talk to strangers if I am to find work and/or develop my own business. I must talk to strangers if I am to make new friends. And while some of my abilities and issues have changed, and my meds have had an effect, it's not always enough to make talking to strangers anything close to easy. And now that the meds aren't doing their job, such speech is very, very far from easy.

Tonight, my mind and body are buzzing as if filled with a hive of mad bees. I attended a professional meeting and spoke not only to individual strangers but to an entire group of them when I announced needing volunteers for a project I'm working on. I had met a few of these people before, but could only count two as people who knew my name. The food was well-balanced (and tasty!), so I cannot blame blood sugar. And the buzzy, vibrating feeling began before I entered my car for the long drive home. (And I don't have a sex toy in my pocket, although that might be a useful idea to help me come down from this feeling!)

I think it's nerves, both the anxiety kind and, probably in reaction, the neurological kind, given that I do have some neurological issues, too.

I can't go to sleep while I feel like this. Caffeine is useful and easy for perking up. What drink is useful and easy for perking down?

What would work, and has worked in the past, would be slow, comfortable conversation with a loved one. (Well, slow comfortable something else with a special loved one would work, too.) However, that is not an option at this moment, so instead I must contemplate warm milk.

If only there weren't so damned many strangers that I have to talk to!