Three and a half years in to my life in Pittsburgh. Three years and change in to my marriage.

Some of the biggest changes in my life all seemed to happen in a cluster. And I’m grateful for each of them.

But I am a different person than I was three years ago. Some ways for the better, some ways for the worse. My life has changed radically in that time — more than once. And I have settled down into being the person I have become, though I am struggling with reconciling my desires and expectations of myself with the knowledge that my core being is just not going to change.

Yesterday was the closing of a chapter for me. An opportunity for closure and a chance to finally, truly, pack my bags and move on. I’ve already done this in the literal sense; I must be capable of handling it on a metaphorical basis, too. Right? I am hopeful, though I reserve judgment until I see myself put these concepts into practice over time. I have processing to do, but I feel… comfortable, peaceful. I have not reached a final peace. But I am doing what I expect of myself at this point in my journey toward it. With that, I am comfortable. With that, I feel at peace.

There are more changes for me yet. I know I will handle them when they come. For now, I can be ok knowing that whatever I am today, I will likely not be tomorrow. And I can still appreciate my position today, and strive toward what I want for myself today, even knowing that when I check in with myself years from now, everything will be different.

To tell the truth, that thought is extremely comforting.

I opened this window several hours ago in hopes of reflecting on the closing year. The best year of my life, the first year I’ve ever felt like it was my life — immediately following the year my life seemed to fall away from me.

I have not been able to form words, even to myself. I can feel the presence of something inside me, feel the need to pour out in words, feel the emotional composition of the space — but when I reach, I find nothing.

I wanted to explore contentment. I wanted to reflect on security, on legitimacy, on ownership. I wanted to look at what I’ve gained — what I’ve established.

But when I reach, I find nothing.

I can see the form of the space emerge. But I cannot access the contents.

I need to be in there, digging, shaping, sorting, building, smoothing. Processing.

But all I can do is know that space is there, and that I cannot be in it.

My own thoughts, emotions, and memories are hidden from me. Buried away. For my protection.

One day, some time ago, I needed that. I needed to be able to bury the raw sensation of being. Bury it deep, undetectable. To keep it from being infringed.

But now that I am safe from what threatened me — now that I have cleared some space — now that I want to use what I’d saved –

I find nothing.

You know the Microsoft Minute?

A unit of time whose literal length is constantly changing due to rapid miscalculations of a computer wielding an operating system developed by Microsoft (i.e. Windows 95).

My husband had the brilliant idea to apply it to me and my various disabilities: the Manda Minute. To wit, “We’ll be out the door in five minutes!” will probably mean twenty, but it will change constantly as time progresses, and could end up being only eight minutes, or even — thought very rarely — two.

I try to be as honest as I can about time estimates, but there are so many fluctuating considerations and variables that it’s almost impossible to know for sure. I overestimate as it is, but chronic overestimation makes guessing useless anyway — if I say twenty minutes when it’s actually going to be five, what good am I doing anyone? and I’m going to be screwing with the medicine I have to plan out, the periods of activity and rest, and so forth.

Welcome to my life.

How can you not?

by Cary Leibowitz

via Cara on Tumblr.

It is hard for me to commit my energy to this job and also maintain a life. A friend asked why he never saw me comment on Feministe anymore, and my answer simply is that I don’t have much time and energy left over. The good news is that I am doing well. I feel healthy. The balance is just a bit off.

But that’s ok, ’cause the job ends in two months anyhow.

Writing is an effort for me. But I have been reading, and you can keep up with me two ways: my Google Reader shared items feed (which has always been over there on my right sidebar, and is updated continually, if a bit behind) and my Tumblr blog, where I collect quotes and links and so forth. I am making good progress on my DC photos, and hope to upgrade my Flickr account so I can post them as well as the day-to-day photography I do, so keep an eye out for that, if you have an eye for that sort of thing.

I miss the communities I’ve been involved in. But I have been slowly and steadily finding my footing, and I am happy with what I am building; even if it looks ramble shamble to an outsider, it’s mine, and it’s working for me. I can’t help but love that.