I see the journey, the path I have taken like the wake of a great ship.

I love routine, thriving with a schedule. I used to get up every morning at six, let the dogs out, feed them, take a shower, dress and out the door every morning at 6:26. Even on weekends I had trouble sleeping past seven as some internal alarm clock woke me up every morning to tell me to start the day. You see, we get used to routines. After my final surgery which took my vision to 20/200 everything changed. I have written before aabout running into things and I relized that this tended to happen when I took different routes in my house so I started some new routines and started to walk the same way every time. The epiodes of getting lost in my own houseor running into tables, walls and doors ceased. My knees thanked me. So the other night I was watching a series and I needed to change disks. I ejected one and got up to change it out and for some inexplicable reason lost my mind and forgot what I was ding or became distracted and thought I needed to check the front door to see if it was locked. I turned and took two steps and completely panicked. I did not know where I was so I stopped and reached out for something, anything that might be familiar. I had taken a different route and done it so suddenly that I was lost in my own home in darkness. I inched forward, one arm reaching out the other held over my head because I don’t want to hit my head. I have actually detached a retina before by hitting my head. I took a deep breath stopped the moment of panic an laughed at myself. I found the wall and re-oriented myself. Such is life.

Social work school was not an easy time for me. I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life but quite honestly the profession scared me.  Stories of burnout and knowing I was entering a world where you see every bad thing, every horrible thing one human can do to another. I have seen abused children, abused elderly, tragic stories that have made me cry all night. People tend to think that social workers are a bunch of touchy feely people. Truth to tell I know very few social workers who are touchy feely. Most of us are hardened and we learn the art of remaining objective through the bad things like homicide detectives. If we really stop and think about what we are dealing with it would crush us. I worried about these things before I ever started working as a social worker. I know how sensitive I am.

I loved the students though, this strange clique of young people who wanted to change the world and thought that we would. I met Kris in my first social work class. She was a damned yankee and we hit it off famously. We did everything together. She was married and I met her husband who also was just an amazing person and if I was not hanging with Kris I might be found hanging with her husband Mitch.  Kris and I studied together, hung out after classes and bothered Mitch which seemed to be our favorite pastime. One day I asked Kris to skip class. I was burning the candle in about ten different places and I needed a break. Neither of us had much money but we scraped enough to buy two quarts of beer and went to a park and swung on the swings. We had so much fun we searched my car for loose change and bought another quart of beer which we shared.

For some crazy reason we decided that we needed more beer and the best place to get money was my house because my mom would happily fund us. So off we went. My mom never met one of my friends that she did not just love and Kris was no different. We spent some time hanging out with my mom and then were off again with twenty bucks in our pockets. We grabbed some beer and then decided that we would go to Mitch’s softball game. Mitch was surprised to see us an we were a bit drunk so naturally we started to heckle him. Not happy Mitch went to the concession stand and bought us two beers and told us to shut the fuck up. We laughed at him but drank the beer. I have a hundred stories about Krs.

I fell in love with her. Its not something I wanted but its something that I felt pretty strongly. If you have read my blog you know how I feel about God, about being un=chosen a loser and that I am his favorite target, I am the ant and He is the magnifying glass. I have learned to reject friends before they reject me, mostly to my own detriment. I have worked on this but at twenty two I was pretty bad at it. Kris got pregnant, and I not knowing what to do simply walked away. No the baby was not mine. We were not romantic as she was married. Kris never knew how I felt because I never told her nor did I tell her why I retreated. She stayed in contact with my mom who knew how I felt. Maybe she told her. I don’t know because I never asked. She did bring the baby to see my mom a couple of times. They were tow peas in a pod. If I had it to do over I would have sat down and had a conversation with her letting her know how I felt and that I did not want to do anything to cause she and Mitch any stress. I walked away though and never saw her again.

I think about her still, not all the time but sometimes something will remind me of her. I hope she is doing well,

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