Becoming genie. Out of My Zone.

I left Maine a little after 5am, yesterday, walking across a few inches of snow in about 18 degrees F. At 230pm I was outside the terminal in San Diego shedding layer upon layer in the 75 degree sunshine. I had been up long past midnight attempting to complete as many last-minute tasks as possible to sustain home and husband for the next three months. Most of the time between going to bed and waking to the alarm at 415 was spent reviewing how much of my ‘Accomplish before January 8′ list was undone.

By 5 o’clock California time I was yawning my way through discussions of supper, but buoyed by the presence of daughter and grandson. I pushed past 8 o’clock and decided I would finish the novel I had read on my air voyage cross-country. A few pages (do we still call them pages when they are on a kindle?) in and head and device were dropping.

Still, I was awake at 3; still awake at 430 and barely was able to force myself to stay  in bed until 5am. Because, my body is still on Eastern Time. My tasks will be performed on Pacific, however. There will be no opportunity for a nap when the collision between body and social times inevitably occurs sometime in late morning or early afternoon, because I am an adult with adult responsibilities. No, I am not a snow bird, I am here to work.

Somehow, I will muddle through today, and probably tomorrow. Sometime, very soon if my last trip to the Left Coast is an indication, I will wake between 6 and 630 Pacific time, and all will be aligned. Of course, that will mean that I am three hours behind my other life, with family and friends and financial institutions well into their mornings as mine is just starting. I will be winding down my day, ready to connect and converse when my eastern peeps are getting ready or have already gone to bed.

But, this morning I am on the cusp of a new adventure. A little discombobulated, a little headachy because there is not enough caffeine in the world to help a brain that is out of sync with time. A brain that was used to getting its fix at what is 3am where I am. A brain that has been dealing with the lack of that fix and now is inconsolable.  It, too, will adjust.

Still, a new adventure awaits. Even as I am enjoying the memories of my hiatus back in Maine, the new is right outside. Within the week I should have redeveloped my ability to scoot in and out of 5-lane traffic, and park the SUV in one try. I will revel in the ability to walk to a decent-sized grocery store, as well as a normal suburban mall, rather than drive a half-hour as I do at my other home. Before I leave, again, after work boot camp will be held entirely in the light, rather than after dusk.

New year, new chance, new life.

(Author’s Note. Now, since I have not mastered my first, and to date only one of three, New Year’s Resolutions, I will go back and edit out all the second spaces at the end of sentences. I wonder how long developing this habit will take.)

 

 

 

Genie Jennings

About Genie Jennings

My identity was stolen. We define ourselves by what we do, and on the worst day of my life, I lost everything. In October 1986, the meningioma that was growing within my spinal column was finally diagnosed and removed. Before that, despite the movements that were increasingly disappearing from my repertoire, I had been a gym rat. Earlier in life, I had worked as a physical therapy aide, so I knew a lot about exercise and recovery.  I could not wait for Monday when my own pt would start.