Honestly, I expected the poo to hit the fan sooner or later, but I guess it just came sooner than I thought. Actually, it really couldn't have happened any sooner than it did- we hadn't even gotten our bags up the stairs when she started it all. Then Peter was told I started it- a lie- so he blames me for this whole situation. I honestly don't understand- the next day I opened up and poured out my heart to her, but the only thing I got back was a heaping spoonful of her homespun self-martyrdom. We're only going to be here for a few weeks, so I guess I should just put my head down and deal with it.
I've been painting, but nothing has been finished because they're so bad I keep painting black over them and starting again. I guess I'm just lacking in inspiration.
I went to the church I used to go to when I lived here a few years ago, but no one I knew was there, and the sermon was kind of weird. The big sanctuary was barely 1/4 full. I saw an old friend whose family was one of the anchors of the church, at the grocery store. I asked what happened- why his family and all the other families who'd been there forever were gone, and he said the pastor had really gone away from his old way of preaching and that most of the people who'd been with the church from the beginning had left because they didn't like how the preacher wanted to run it now. I don't think I'll be going back there- the atmosphere was just kind of dead. It didn't feel like God was present, but maybe I'm just kind of spiritually spoiled. I never feel closer to God than when I'm standing next to the ocean. To me the ocean always seems like a metaphor for God- powerful, life taking, life giving, enigmatic, infinite, encompassing, beautiful and scary. It always felt like God was present. I miss the constant sound of waves in my apartment more than anything else about living so close to the beach.
I miss Radar, too. Since the first day we brought him home he's been under my feet. He followed me around the apartment like a shadow. I can't wait until I can get him back. I kind of think that it's because I showed how much I love him that Iris decided I definitely couldn't have him. I offered every compromise and was willing to bend backwards and then some to meet her more than halfway, but she doesn't give an inch when she doesn't have to.
She let Peter keep Beau. I don't really care about him- I tried to give him away to Dr Gray.
I've never been more alone. Separated from the only place where I've ever felt truly at home, the only place I've ever really fit in; separated from the sense of purpose I had in my community; separated from my friends, my pet, my inspiration. I feel separated from God and separated from my self. I'm on my own in unfriendly territory.