John Mayer - Free Fallin, and rainy days in Berlin

Before I moved here I remember them telling me that it rained here like 80% of the time. It's true. It rains a lot. But as I have told you before, it's this pathetic half hearted rain that can barely be viewed as an inconvenience. In fact, it is so hardly quantifiable as rain that I find myself aching for a good, Texas thunderstorm. That is until this week. This week it has been stormy. Like the sky turns some shade of orange or purple and then lightning streaks through the sky and deep grumbles shake the walls and then it opens up and dumps rain on everything. Suddenly the air that was so thick and sticky 20 minutes before is crisp, clean and cool. And I feel as if something has been accomplished.

I love rain. Rain and stars. I love things that make me feel small. I feel like I say it all the time, "the natural things speak of the Invisible." Standing in front of the ocean, at the top of a peak or on a precipice, caught in the rain. We are really small aren't we?

I like to think of Indira Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, my friend Robert in Uganda, Hailey in Namimbia, MiMi in Waco... looking out at the same stars as me - years ago and now. Stars, they are the promise that life perpetuates and ends in eternity.

I've been listening to John Mayer's cover of Free Fallin' on repeat. It seems to fit perfectly to my melancholy.

I am taking my body's revolt against all things it needs to sustain life, namely sleep and food, as a sign that it's time to do something. I am packing up my flat in Berlin. I know. It's a shock to me too. I have a couple of really terrible habits. One is not asking for help, and the second is running myself into the ground. The combination of the two things has led me to a virtual burn out. It's nobody's fault but my own. So I am going to get help. That's right. I am getting help. I believe in counseling and I need some. I don't want to be doing this same shit when I'm 50 and perpetuating it in future generations. So I am putting my foot down. Tearfully. Pathetically. I can't stop crying. I am miserable in every circumstance. A good sign that all is not quiet on the western front. So there.

I've been a terrible communicator. I seem to be able to manage reading emails and text messages, but responses to anyone but my family seem to be a bit more than my little life can handle. Sad isn't it? Well. It is just where I am. Anyway, sorry if you're getting the news via blog. Please know that it's all I can do right now to stir my coffee with my little spoon and it's not an indicator of a lack of value for you.

In other news, when Jer Skyped this morning to make sure I was working on my checklist he said something that I immediately teased him about, in turn, his immediate response was, "Please don't blog about this." Cue evil laughter background. It's all blog worthy. If I am going to air all my crap here for everyone to read, nobody is safe. Just kidding. You are safe. Ish.