"Stirring Dull Roots with Spring Rain"

I hate that the spring is coming. Everything is dripping and melting-- the last snow is sliding off scaffolding everywhere and plopping down in huge, gross, raindrops into my hair as I try to navigate the crowded streets.

Nothing happens in the Spring.

GoldenFinch called me to cheer me up the other day.

"I know you must need it," she said in her voicemail. "April is coming. I know you hate April."

I used to walk around bitterly quoting that "April is the cruellest month."

Who the hell did I think I was?

(breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.)

Anyway, this weekend was a bit of a strange one. In therapy on Friday, I started out talking about Narc and ended up talking about all of the boys I dated in college-- in particular, AIR7. Suffice it to say, they were all unpleasant memories. Afterwards, I had plans to go out for coffee with B and Drippy. I asked Bezoukhoff to come along as emotional backup.

Drippy decided to arrange an outing to Postcrypt-- the coffee house in the basement of St. Paul's Chapel at Columbia.


(This picture is from the Internet, but at least it give you a sense of what the place looks like).

Anyway, I thought it was a strange choice, given that B and I both went to Columbia and the whole campus and neighborhood is filled with personal memories for us.

Bezoukhoff and I approached them on College Walk where I greeted Drippy with a smile. She was pretty awkward in return. I wasn't feeling up to my task of "bridging the gulf," given the afternoon's therapy session, but I did my best. I have to say-- I didn't like being back up at Columbia. I felt surrounded by ghosts-- ghosts of my former self. It was especially strange being on the campus at night and being there with B. I felt a lump in my chest.

I remembered long evenings sitting in B's dorm room-- he'd be playing Barber's Adagio for Strings or Brahms' German Requiem, the halogen light turned down low. He'd be working on some paper or philosophizing about some reading he did for class. And I'd be sitting on the floor, my back against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest, debating him on the issue at hand and burning my wrist with a lighter. What happened to those two?

We ate at the Bengal Cafe (where I've only ever ordered vegetable korma) and the awkward conversation continued. When B got up to go to the bathroom, I tried to ask Drippy about the wedding, but she answered me with little more that one word answers.

"What is your color scheme?" I asked.

"Red, gold and orange," she said.

"Oh really? That's nice. My sister is going with reddish colors too. She's getting married this year."

Silence.

"So... Um... how many bridesmaids are you having?"

And so, it went on like that.

Anyway, after we ate, we headed over to the chapel. That brought on a whole new slew of menacing old memories-- I haven't been down in that church basement since running around down there before choir concerts. Lifetimes ago. Ghosts.

I really liked the singer we heard-- Thea Hopkins. She was selling her Cd's there and chivalrous, sweet Bezoukhoff bought me one.

Even so, it was hard not to get depressed during her performance. All of her songs were pretty mellow and the ones about love made me think of Narc. I am trying to accept my own grieving of that loss. I am trying to allow myself to do it, but I've never been very good at allowing myself to mourn-- at allowing myself to have any feelings at all. I also felt weird being there with B. He and I were last at Postcrypt together eight years ago. I wanted to let myself feel close to him. I wanted to be able to grab onto his arm. I wanted to become that girl that I was again-- the girl who trusted no one in the world to see her the way that B could. Everything would be okay as long as we could go through it together. But I'm not that girl anymore. And there was Drippy sitting on his other side and Bezoukhoff on my other side. A jarring reminder of the present. I cupped my hands around the votive candle on the table. I used to hold my fingertips and my wrists over restaurant candles. B would always poke me to make me stop. I kept myself from it this time.

All in all, it was a strange night. As we were leaving, B and Drippy suddenly rushed ahead, which made the evening's denouement all the more awkward.

And that was that.

On Saturday morning I rolled out of bed with a groan in time to make the 9:15 am Women's meeting. Meema came to that meeting for the first time. I was glad she was able to. She and her husband finally moved into their new place in Long Island City, so she's no longer commuting from Westchester. Anyway, afterwards, I went for brunch with Slope and two other women and then headed out to meet BigSis. I don't remember if I wrote about this or not, but earlier in the week, BigSis sent me a text which really took me by surprise:

Just thinking of how lucky i am to have u as my sister.

We are not super affectionate in my family among siblings (it's a little different with my mom), so I was dumbfounded when I got the text. But I am chalking it up to a "gift of sobriety." I may have lost Narc, but I keep trying to tell myself that there's a lot to be gained.

Anyway, BigSis invited me to see one of her clients perform in a high school production of Gypsy. (BigSis is a therapist and works both privately and through a high school here in the city). It was a lot of fun. High school theater has so much heart. And it reminded me of my own days of community theater with BigSis when I was in high school.

Afterwards, we chatted over french onion soup (we realized after having been seated that we couldn't afford any entrees at the restaurant of choice!) and then I headed home.

Despite all of the activity and despite my new found friendships with the women in AA and the time spent with BigSis, I found myself sliding into depression. I wanted him... I really wanted him. I didn't know what to do with myself. I watched some TV. I didn't know what to do with myself. I layed in bed and polished my nails. I didn't know what to do with myself. So... I did what I used to do...

I put on some makeup and I went over to Cheers.

I know it sounds bad... it sounds worse that it was. It was only 8:30 and I went over there because BarMan was playing a gig to raise money for his friend's trip to build houses in Africa. I sat at the end of the bar and had a few diet cokes. I said hi to Manwich and ThursdayGirl and Masseuse and PreppyGirl. But, it was depressing. I don't belong there anymore.

The whole spirit of Cheers feels different now that IrishBird is gone. They've added some photos, redecorating the place, and they are really playing up IrishBird's replacements, which I found rather irritating. The world of Cheers that I knew is gone. Just like the world I knew at Columbia, where B and I used to live together, that's gone too. The whole weekend was turning into an exercise in uncomfortable revisits to my past lives. They all hurt. There's a reason that I've been fighting so hard for change.

I felt surrounded by the ghost of myself... oppressed by her... suffocated. I had to get out of there. So, I said my goodbyes, gave BarMan a kiss and left by 9:00.

I went back home. I still felt stifled.

I got into bed and started to re-watch episodes of Rome. I called a woman from the program-- a red-headed graduate of FIT. I need a name for her... I'll call her Lorelei. We talked for about an hour. She said that I saved her from her own isolating. Her roommate had gone out of town for the week and she was holing up, eating grilled cheese and indulging in a little too much self-pity. It helped to talk to her because I was able to explain that craving that I was having... That absolute craving for SOMETHING... for MORE... for ANYTHING... It's a craving that I hear people talk about in the rooms of AA all the time. But never before have I met anyone who understands that feeling in exactly the same way. So, it was nice to have Lorelei to commiserate with.

Later on, I laughed when I got a text from Hammer. She and the Alaskan were out at some German pub, eating schnitzel. The Alaskan and I got into a mini-debate over which of the men on Rome are most lust-worthy. I said "Mark Antony" all the way, while he advocated Octavian. (He also added that he finally understands my relationship with N!) He has a crush on Cleopatra. I have to say, I kind of hate her because in my mind, if Narc is Antony, then I am Attia and PopStar is Cleopatra.

Anyway, Hammer and the Alaskan made me laugh.

Strangely, I also got a text from Double-T on Saturday inviting me to hang out over at Cheers. I wrote back to him telling him I had already been there, and was at home for the night, cozy in bed.

On Sunday, I slept in until 2:00 pm. I didn't want to wake up... not ever again! But, I did. And I eventually dragged myself out of the house. I had to get out of my neighborhood, but I felt lonely and crazy and invisible. I went down to the West Village and ate lunch at Cafe Reggio and then sat at the Tea Spot all afternoon and worked on my Fourth Step. I have over 100 pages of resentments alone! I am one resentful girl! I finished the day with a meeting at night and then it was home and to bed.

I'm not quite sure how to feel right now, what to write, or anything. I bought a journal yesterday (and a fabulous feather headband), and I think I may try to journal by hand for a bit and then type it all up for the blog. I'm just not comfortable right now. I'm not comfortable in my own skin. I'm still thinking about him all the time, and wondering for how long I will have to be in mourning like this.

Anyway, there's no point in dwelling on it. I should get going... back out into the drippy, melting spring weather. I have a ton of midterms to grade.

Love,
h