THAT WAS ACTUALLY A MISTAKE
I wrote out my last entry in a Word document essentially to myself and posted it on auto-pilot. It was pretty true to my state of mind right now, and it will take some time for me to digest. Of course, Nebraska read that entry and was not pleased at the possiblity of my resettlement hitting another delay. Talk about a tense moment at Eppley Airfield tomorrow afternoon. At any rate, the cat is out of the bag, so lets talk about it for a bit, shall we?
THE CAT WHO ATE THE CANARY*
*a weak play on the 'Cat Who...' mysteries by Lillian Jackson Braun, who I have never read
Right now I am at the library, printing out documents that I will need for my housing application and directions from the Airfield to my hotel and from my hotel to the housing authority. Or I should say, documents that I THINK that I will need. The sensation of having done what you needed to do and still being uncertain about having fulfilled the task is one of the actions that clog the queue in my brain. Questions abound about whether or not that I have all the documents that the Housing Authority will ask of me (who doesn't have their birth certificate, social security card and photo ID? I know that I do, yet I still am nagged by the notion that I am missing something) seems too simple and too easy. I wonder if there is a catch that I am not clear on and will find out only after flying a million (every distance to a new place is actually incalcuably great in my mind...) miles to find out that I have forgotten something. Packing my bags, at first with a permanent move in mind, is a tiring task. What to bring, what to leave and why isn't something I am looking for anywhere around? Some of my belongings are already ahead of me and I doubt if any of the boxes that are here still with me have what I would be looking for... or so I tell myself. If I did not, I would go thru them and to what end would that serve?
My friend wondered if I was so uptight when I took off for Virginia. The quick answer would be 'no', but that is only relative to the discomfort of what I feel now. I had let it be a running theme of almost any discussion of my travels how I felt about Virginia before the SFC came into my life again. Going there was a matter of me having asked for something and then having it happen, just as I asked. But there were some of the fears I am dealing with now that bothered me in making that decision as well. Are they (moves to Virgina v. Nebraska) like 'apples and oranges' or is it simply a case of it being 'fruit', only a lot more of it.
There are things that I do not have any need or desire to prove to anyone else about being brave and of my willingness to take chances. So finally I have run up against something that has me flat out scared. So sue me. Reading profiles about people who are also brain injury sufferers, the mood swings and changes in character are a pas de deux that I can reliably expect to play out for the rest of my life. As to the darker corners of this outlook I will not go into because I have already 'touched gloves' with them at the introduction and there is no need to acknowledge them again outside of a therapy session.
Each time I start to rationalize an issue it comes back stronger and more intense than before. I have already spent a sleepless weekend, had a sleepless start to the week and I don't see any sleep on the horizon.