I cannot get over feeling like a total jerk. Nothing but complaining that I have too much buttery cake all on my own. So if you are reading this at all, and might have been concerned with my last post that I am really overdoing it with the egotistical self-absorption, I just wanted to say that I am trying to get my act together. Which means: a) I started really looking into the possibility of volunteering at a rape crisis center or something of the sort. But (how convenient!) they ask volunteers to commit to a full year, and I'm not sure I can do that. Not to mention I was scared shitless to actually do it, and thought maybe now was not totally the greatest time for me to be in a position where people that have been through something so awful and destructing actually NEED ME.
b) I looked into getting professional help, i.e. student counseling. This might seem totally contrary to a), just me being self-absorbed again. However, I really think I have some pretty good excuses for my need to TALK TO SOMEONE who is not an immediate relative. And who might help me clear up my thoughts and emotional tangles and maybe get my act together so I can finally DO whatever it is that I feel like I'm capable of doing for others. Last week I was so stressed for inviting a darling friend over for 5 o'clock tea and cake (someone to talk to and to consume my baked goods all in one!), and then crying during half the time she was here, for fear she will never want to come eat the basket-case-baker's cakes again, let alone be my friend anymore.
In any case, I found out the slightly long and winding way (i.e., after going through a preliminary intake session) that, alas, student counseling is available to spouses only if they have bought the whole health insurance plan offered by the University (which I did not). Or if they come to couple therapy with the actual student. If only my grief would have made our married life a totally dysfunctional hell, then I (i.e., we) could have qualified for student counseling! Unfortunately, that is not the case.
c) Right after writing the former post, I searched online for soup kitchens in the neighborhood. I think I can bring myself to pick up the phone and volunteer at one of those. I think. But what if the food is gross and the smell of beef makes me nauseous and the whole experience is condescending and estranged?
You might notice c) is a strange mixture of trying to get my act together and being neurotically self-absorbed. Not to mention slightly racist, I'm afraid.
What I would really like is to wake up in the morning, bake a quiche and a cake, and bring them over to people in need. I have a hunch soup kitchens don't work that way, but by god, I will check.
All right, somebody tell me I'm OK now. And then slowly, without making any sudden movements, move me away. from. the. internet. THIS IS NOT HELPING.
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