Boundaries

I used to say yes all the time when offered extra work. There isn’t any way that I’ll do that anymore. They’d like me to teach the crisis intervention class on the main campus of the university. I had asked weeks ago via email if I could get a hotel room three Saturdays and he just didn’t answer. I saw him yesterday in the lines for students getting ready to walk to the stage in their robes with their specialist hoods on, and he said, “Yeah, I don’t think that we’ll be able to do that.” No email. No response until I directly asked him yesterday at graduation. I said, “Well, I think that you’ll have to get someone else to teach it. It took me an hour and fifty-minutes to get up here.” I know it wouldn’t take me that long on a Saturday and Sunday, but why? A half tank of gas and my hips getting stiff three times for $2,600? No way.

I’ve known this Dean for 26-years. We were ships passing in the night until I took a class when I first entertained a doctorate in 2003. When I got my first graduate degree she was a professor there and left right before I started, but I knew her. Then she went to two different universities before directing the program that I just finished coordinating. Recently, she was promoted to Dean. Her successor isn’t half as professional as she is with respect to consistency in contact, answering emails, and being able to get ahold of readily. I’ll teach the internship class as long as they need me to because it’s a really low lift and I don’t have to go anywhere. I don’t mind Zooming because there isn’t any content to speak of; you answer questions and lead supervision. Videoconferencing for hours in a training or with lecture is terrible. The software wasn’t made for that!

I actually didn’t stay. It was cold and and windy and I didn’t want to be in the bleachers. I would have had to order months ago and really advocate for my doctoral robe and cords and stuff. I never did walk when I got my doctorate because my final defense was a week before the first day of fall in 2014 and by the time May of 2015 rolled around, I was already working in higher ed and doing my post-doc. Maybe someday I’ll participate as faculty in my robe for graduation. However, it was really nice to see all of them. Three weren’t there. I texted them and one said that she is buying me beers and we’re connecting about our field soon! They were a special cohort to coordinate. They had to learn intelligence and cognitive testing in fishbowl masked watching me test my neighbor’s kids. They practiced on each other or on friends to try to learn instruments. In the height of COVID parents didn’t let their students volunteer for anything. People were dying.

Mother’s Day is fucking me up this year. It didn’t last year, and it is this year. I miss my Mom and have been so teary all the time. I didn’t cry yesterday at graduation, and wouldn’t have had I stayed, but I am heavy and sad. I probably should talk to someone about it, but now I bowl on Wednesdays so I can’t go to group on the 17th. Actually, like many things, just writing about it is helping.

I dreamt on Wednesday night that the climber was laying on my back while I was facing away from her in a chair. She’d done that in March I think. I’m pretty sure it was before we kissed last–maybe it was February. However, in the dream we would up laying together and she was holding my hands which started to sweat and we were moving our hands together and she laid on my back. It wasn’t erotic, but definitely sexual and sensual. I like the way that she feels against me in life too. I texted her Thursday, “I dreamed about you last night.” I didn’t get a response, but I wanted to be vulnerable. Again, boundaries, I control me. I don’t know if we will wind up doing anything soon. She has said three times that we need to climb after work, and then she has missed at least two Mondays. In fact, she has missed a day or two of work for many months now. She misses a lot of work. I don’t. I think showing up no matter what and not taking mental health days is also a boundary for me.

My son has prom. I guess I’ll go to the bar tonight. I’ll only get to sing once because of the weird way that she does the rotation, but that is fine. I may stay awhile. We go to the good venue with my Boss, her sister and some of her sister’s friends on the 13th. There is no way that the owners will be at a basketball game on a Saturday! I’m excited for the 13th. My boss’ sister teaches classes in BDSM nationwide and internationally. That isn’t my thing, but she’s poly and has a huge scene. I’m looking for mentors. Three days after that on what would have been my Mom’s 74th birthday, I meet the group members–ones who are doing this event anyway–at another karaoke venue who are also poly. I’m not putting energy out to date, but want to be around other people who have lived in this world. I’ve had experiences with it, but not recent ones, and never was in a community.

Chop wood; carry water. It’s time to put on running pants, a sports bra, and a wicking shirt and walk my dogs! Happy Saturday.

Image by Andrew Martin from Pixabay

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