Crumbling
I was up until 2am this morning, running between my bedroom and my kitchen to collect bowls and containers. Every 10 minutes or so in the night, a new crack decided to open up in my window frame, letting in the pouring rain until the entire window became one large faucet (right on top of my gifted book collection). Fortunately, someone was able to come look at it this afternoon. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help me. It’s about to start raining again, and it will rain all day today and on and off every day for the foreseeable future. This comes after a few other problems that are slowly revealing themselves with my apartment.
My first thought was simply, “Why?” As if enough bad things haven’t happened, one after the other, for the past few months. Nonstop. For example, that festival I was planning was cancelled. I only found out because I messaged the host on Wednesday asking if I can come on Friday. His response was that he booked all the accommodations… even though I had been communicating with him about everything for a while. I don’t even care that it was cancelled, the blow was that this was something I was supposed to help plan, and I arranged to go with a friend — I wanted to at least be informed that it was cancelled, especially more than two days before. I was really looking forward to going to the countryside.
As these events keep happening, I find myself wanting to repeat what I keep saying about all my groups ending, people coming and going, my desire to leave the country, etc. But how many times can I bemoan all the same things? It’s incredibly frustrating. Last night, I just wanted to cry as I watched my window explode onto my books. The essence of the feeling is that it all seems unfair: “What did I do to deserve this?” With everything going on, I’ve had no motivation, no passion, no drive. No reading, no writing, no poetry, no photography, no art. I’ve been trying to use the time to focus on myself, since there’s little else I’m able to do: exercising, cleaning, organizing, skincare, haircare, changing up my diet, replacing old things. It’s all nice, sure, but it doesn’t bring me any feeling of accomplishment nor progression.
It’s almost ironic: turning to the few things I do have complete control over doesn’t help anything else. There are always lessons to learn, however. During these times, I finally came to understand why people drink and go to bars. I also understand why people do drugs, isolate themselves, be “lazy,” or overeat, to name a few more patterns. Those are not good things, and I would much rather see “happier” perspectives, but at least I can have more compassion for people through the understanding. That’s the entire point of experience, after all.
In April, I had 72 events in my calendar. For coming August, I have 7. The unanswerable, ever-plaguing question is what can be done? The issues with my apartment require me to be around — I can’t travel. Everything is slow in the city with people on summer vacation. Part of me wants to say that now should be the time to dedicate myself to my writing. I’ve written nothing in a month. I haven’t studied much, either, and when I do, it’s Russian because I’m so burnt out of Iceland(ic). My teacher is off guiding, so I have not and will not be learning for some time. Without my job, I also don’t speak Icelandic anymore. All my students are on pause, too.
I’m reminded of two years ago, when I was back in Michigan, my time after “failing” to move to Iceland. The difference being that now, I have people in my life. I’ve been spending time with them, but having a mental storm cloud takes a lot away from the experience. Nevertheless, the fact that I can both send and receive invitations has been nice.
With everything continuing to crumble around me, I wonder what will be next. I’m well aware that it’s on me to rebuild, that nothing will happen on its own. That doesn’t change the question, the same question asked differently, how to begin? Funnily enough, the collapse of my bedroom window during monsoon season did motivate me a little bit, even if minor and accompanied by frustration. I’ll see what happens next. With luck, it won’t be another disaster.