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Andrew is on his way to South Carolina now. He should get to Parris Island around 4PM EST, and then spend the next three days getting processed, tested, and NOT getting much sleep.

He asked me to cut his hair short yesterday morning. He knew the Marines wouldn’t be too gentle, so he figured he’d get it out of the way before he left, so I cut it as close as I could.

His hair looks better short, anyway.

I wanted to take him to one last Sunday brunch — we’ve been doing brunch for awhile — but Hometown Buffet had a huge line, *Denny’s* had a huge line… we drove around Vernon and Rockville for awhile, then decided to go to the bagel place near the apartment.

No line!

We talked a bit about the military. I just have to accept that he’s going (and is gone). I went through this with Allyson and now Andrew. It’s not easy for anyone.

Anyway, he should be to base this afternoon. I’ll be rushing home to plug in my phone, since it’s out of power again. I don’t want to miss his call. I’m not positive he’ll be calling tonight, but when he does call, I want to answer.

Will post his address as soon as I get it.

Hillary and Brian came by Saturday; they had a new address book for Andy (we’d just bought him one, but he spent an hour transferring the addresses from the one I bought to the one Hillary bought… hers was nicer!) We went out to Friendly’s, took pictures of my new niece or nephew, and didn’t talk about baby names.

Brian is getting a new job in Cambridge, so the Holloway-Shimkinses will likely be finding a place to live there. Cambridge is a beautiful place. But very expensive.

They came for Andrew at 3PM yesterday, the apartment immediately became lonelier, and Isis (the cat) prowled around looking for him. Between laundry loads, I was curled up on the couch with my Reader, and Isis came and curled up with me.

I had a dentist appointment this morning. He says I need a root canal on another tooth — that’s two I need. Next month is a filling, and then probably beginning those root canals.

I stopped by the post office on the way to work and picked up the two Iain M. Banks books I’d ordered — his new one, “Matter”, and an old one, “Feersum Enjinn”, that got lost through the years.

I’m depressed. I need someone in my life besides children and cats.

Except I feel extremely uncomfortable around people I don’t know and I hate being touched, so I just don’t see how it will ever happen.

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4 Comments

  1. Maybe you should take a class in something you’re interested in – that would be a good way to meet people with like-interests. It can be an art class even.

    Or perhaps there are organizations in the area you’d like to join? There is life after kids and cats – I’m almost certain of it!

  2. See, I hate being around people. Probably you think I am just shy, but no; I am not shy. It’s just the more people that are around, the more I can feel them pressing me out of existence. I feel like I become two dimensional and partially transparent and really small, and I have to get away in order to continue to exist.

    It’s like the big psychic squeeze trying to make me disappear. I can’t explain it. It’s not just strangers, it happens eventually no matter who is around. My kids, anyone. I just find it nearly impossible to be myself unless I am alone.

    At which point I am very lonely. So it’s always one thing or another.

  3. Perhaps seeing a professional is in order? If you just accept the current set of circumstances things are never going to change. And, obviously, you don’t want that.

  4. Well, I’m not sure what a professional would do. I had to be in therapy for a year because of my life’s journey, and it didn’t help me at all. It was just a requirement that I go and so I went. I was quite a bit poorer after, though. Plus I had to drive up to San Jose all the time which was a chore.

    Watching Andrew through his particular life journey, and HIS years of endless therapy which just seemed like little more than deciding on which chemical would best remove Andy’s need to learn self-control… just not feeling it.

    There’s always the fear that therapy or chemicals would turn me into a different person, in effect, erasing the real me. I’ve spent too long learning how to be me to give it up just because it doesn’t mesh with everyone else’s world.


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