I woke up this morning after dreaming several dreams about my dad. It’s not the first time, but it was pretty vivid. I sat and wept for a bit this morning. He’s left such a huge hole in my reality. It’s been almost three months and the hurt is still acute. I know part of it is this move, which he was so excited about, so proud of, and I can’t talk to him about any of it. Yeah, I know, I know, “He’s always there, you can say it to him, blah, blah, blah…” It’s not the same. People said the same thing when Jasmine died, and it’s just not the same when the communication isn’t punctuated by real-time interaction. I keep meaning to sit and write about it, like I did when Jasmine died, but it’s so much harder. I don’t know why. I’m thinking of going to a counselor. It’s funny, I never seriously considered that with Jasmine’s death, but there’s just something about this that feels more difficult. I think about places to begin writing, and then when I sit down, I just can’t.
I’ve been in Portland for a week and a day and I absolutely love it. I love my apartment (except, perhaps, for the shower-free bathroom). I love living on campus. I love my classes. The trees, the hide-n-seek sun, the birds, the flowers… the farmer’s market outside my window right now. Love. It. This is where I belong, I can feel it in my bones. I’ve had a few moments of feeling overwhelmed or lonely, missing my friends, but what I mostly feel is a sense of rightness. I’m impatient for all the pieces to fall in, but I’m also somehow okay with the waiting. Emotionally I’m a bit watery due to the stuff with dad and just being consumed by this beauty of this area. There’s so much more I want to see, but exploring is on hold until we finish settling in.
Financial aid has been fucked up, which is probably the biggest source of stress right now as we have NOTHING to sit on in the living/dining room area and are sleeping on Gabrielle’s double mattress thrown on the floor in our bedroom. It’s getting tight for groceries too and yesterday we agreed that any kind of eating out, no matter how cheap and tasty, was going to have to take a backseat to PBJ until the financial aid gets straightened out. I’m trying desperately to ignore the yummy scents wafting up from the farmer’s market this morning. Otherwise, the PSU experience has been relatively painfree. I’m taking an adult development class right now, doing my project on sexual orientation and adult dev. Everything in the class has been so relevant to what I’ve been doing for the past seven years or so – it’s awesome.
Um. Breakfast time. I can do some oatmeal and coffee. That sounds good.