I haven't been blogging as much because I'm very depressed and very busy.
Mystic asks how I've been feeling physically coming up on a year sober... Well, the answer is "better" in a lot of ways, but also worse in a lot of ways, and that's what has gotten me so depressed. I have had a lot of problems with my blood sugar and hormone cycles lately and I've also put on a lot of weight in sobriety. I don't really think the blog is a place in which I'd like to go into the details of my medical situation, but suffice it to say, there are a slew of problems to be solved which have strangely gotten worse with sobriety. I went to the doctor on Thursday afternoon (and they took ten vials of blood from me!!!) and the answers I was looking for were not to be found. I think it yanked me out of denial and put these medical problems into the forefront for me. And then there's that insidious voice telling me that I was "happier" when I was drinking, even though I know that's bullshit.
What can I say? I think I'm just having anniversary jitters. And I miss Narc. And I'm physically out of whack and all of it's causing depression.
What did I do this weekend? On Friday I saw Blades of Glory with B, which was certainly good for a laugh. Later that night, I went out with StarGazer to a birthday dinner at Eatery. It was her friend's birthday. There were three other girls there-- all in their late 20's, all single, all dressed in some cute little "New York-ish" outfit, all thinking they were Carrie Bradshaw or one of the clan. Afterwards, StarGazer and I went to Don't Tell Mama's where PonyTailBoy was performing a "James Bond Cabaret." Don't even ask... it was a strange night. I didn't get home from that until nearly 1:00 AM.
On Saturday, I was stuck in bed depressed for a chunk of the day. I did take the time to call a few newcomers though, and it helped. Then Meema called. She was having a fight with her husband and needed to buy shoes. I am the farthest thing from a "shoe girl" (if I had my choice, I'd be in sneakers with everything), but I agreed to meet her at Aldo on 42nd street. She was there when I got there, strutting around the store in a variety of spiked silver heels. She ended up buying nothing but a little clutch purse. I walked away with a pair of espadrilles.
Later in the afternoon, as I limpidly cleaned off my kitchen counter, NDN sat on my kitchen stool and chatted me up. He had a present for me and a present for Mr. Rochester-- a little yellow chick! Mr. Rochester was very appreciative and rubbed up against NDN's feet.
That night, my home group was hosting a "sober dance." I really, really, REALLY didn't want to go. The only problem? I had already agreed to do service there. So, I was stuck. I was so depressed though, that it took absolutely every ounce of will power I had to get me there. As I approached, I called my mom nearly in tears, telling her I didn't want to go in.
"You have three choices, sweetie," she said. "You can go home and say 'screw the commitment;' you can wait until 10:00 PM when your service commitment starts and leave as soon as it's done; or you can go in right now and trust that your friends are in there and that you'll be okay."
Suffice it to say, I went in. It was okay, but I was happy to get out of there at 11:00. There's probably a lot more I could say about that strange, strange party, but I just don't have it in me right now. I didn't like being in a dimly lit room with throbbing techno music. It was triggering my clubbing memories.
On Sunday morning, I went to watch B get confirmed into the Anglican Church. Drippy was somewhere at the service too, but I didn't see her when I came in. So, I went up to the choir loft to watch the service where I could discreetly write in my journal. I was missing Narc and remembering him and feeling miserable and trying to feel grateful for life and for my life in particular... trying to shut up the suicidal voices which seemed to have returned with a vengeance this week. Here's what I wrote...
I am here, in the left-hand loft of St. Bartholomew's, watching B get confirmed. In the light of this blue-- the roundness... the majesty, I am grateful, but I am also sad. And I'm not sure whether to applaud or berate my heart for its capacity to grieve.
I think of him... His perfect hands, rounded fingernails, tearing cuticles. His posture... arching back. His wrists. I miss him. I miss him desperately and I must continue to tell myself that this is his choice... that this is what he wants. And I can't control everything, nor do I know everything. And then I remember my cheek against his chest. And I can't breathe.
B just got up from his seat and walked to the back of the church. Probably to find Drippy...
My back aches and eyes sting. I am shallow today-- perhaps barred from the darkness to which I'm drawn... descending.
So instead, I "offer myself in obedience to His will"-- to stay shallow, focused, present, "in the moment."
I remember watching him sleep... And Brick too. I won't understand why they both wanted this loss. Not ever.
I must remind myself that I am POWERLESS over others. And it is not my place to understand others.
O Lamb of God
that takest away the sins of the world
have mercy up on us.... The William Walton setting.
O Lamb of God
that takest away the sins of the world,
grant us peace.
Little Lamb, who made thee? William Blake and John Tavener.
I am watching the choir-- rounding their sounds. Shaping sounds with lips (the breath of life). Dissonance. He used to rub his stomach. He probably still does. Thin black cotton. The thickness of his toes through his socks. The mold on the ceiling above the shower. All of it perfect.
And I suppose I should thank God for the gift of love. And I suppose that I should thank God for memory. My heart's capacity is grace alone. I found others-- many others-- who struggle for the same. Love is not a right. Love is a gift.
I DID love him and I DO. And maybe it's not sad that I do...that I always will. Maybe it's a miracle. I don't want to get angry.
Watching the congregation below, they move in a strange and solemn dance... shuffling... one here... two there... These communion rites are almost unthought of. It makes me wonder about the "natural."
"Go. With gladness and singleness of heart," he just said.
Okay... the service ended quickly. Caught me by surprise. So I have to go find B and Drippy for lunch. And perhaps with Hammer to see the cherry blossoms later...
love,
h
And that was that...
Lunch with B and Drippy wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. When I first greeted them and asked "how they are," B shot her a look as if to say "you better be nice, like I told you to!" It was weird...
We walked over to the Heartland Brewery at Times Square for lunch. A strange choice, if you ask me, but they wanted to check it out as a possible locale for their rehearsal dinner. Lunch was nice... Drippy was excited to see Roger Federer on the TV screen above the bar area. I ate a buffalo chicken salad. From there, I headed to meet Hammer for the Cherry Blossom Festival at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.
Hammer was having one of those days in which nothing was working out according to plan. The Festival was no different. There were throngs of people there. It was really quite annoying. As we're both grad students, Sunday isn't our only day for leisure and I forget that most of the general public has to limit their blossom-reveling to the weekends. After a 45 minute wait on line for the bathroom, we agreed to return to the gardens on Wednesday for a more peaceful chance to take it all in.
I ended the night with an AA meeting, grading papers and a few phone calls in bed-- a long talk with StarGazer and then a long chat with Liu! It was long overdue. I ended up pouring out a lot to her in terms of my depression, etc. and it felt really good to have the ear of an old friend.
Anyway, that's it for now. I just finished teaching for the morning. I'm going to go home and shower and then do some paperwork for school and do a little work on my Fourth Step. Still charging ahead with that one.
One day at a time, Hyde... One day at a time!
love,
h
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Text Destruction
Last night I had a dream about Brick. I dreamed that I had texted him an apology. It was so real that I almost believed it all happened when I woke up. In my dream, Brick and I were at a house in the mountains. We were wearing special snow-shoes and skating around at some sort of park. When I woke up, I checked my cell phone. I had texted him after all. It's weird... I don't really remember doing it.
Have been thinking of you the past few days, I wrote. Wanted to say sorry if I was harsh last time we txtd. And sorry if I put pressure on you or made you feel guilty. I hope that you're doing well and are happy and sober.
I don't know why I wrote to him. It made me feel better though. I now have a sense of closure. I think that's what I'm looking for right now-- closure, closure and more closure!
CLOSURE!
I also heard from Narc yesterday. Texts about the lovely afternoon (the weather was divine.)
I asked what he had been up to.
The work, of course. It never ends! Selling our reality show, he wrote.
Wow! To whom? I asked. And PS: Am I ever going to talk to you again? Wanna get coffee sometime?
Have been thinking of you the past few days, I wrote. Wanted to say sorry if I was harsh last time we txtd. And sorry if I put pressure on you or made you feel guilty. I hope that you're doing well and are happy and sober.
I don't know why I wrote to him. It made me feel better though. I now have a sense of closure. I think that's what I'm looking for right now-- closure, closure and more closure!
CLOSURE!
I also heard from Narc yesterday. Texts about the lovely afternoon (the weather was divine.)
I asked what he had been up to.
The work, of course. It never ends! Selling our reality show, he wrote.
Wow! To whom? I asked. And PS: Am I ever going to talk to you again? Wanna get coffee sometime?
What am I doing??? you may be asking yourselves. I'm not quite sure. I don't really want to see him. I do want to move on. Sort of... I can't continue on in this strange state of ambivalence. Either we are going to try to be "friends" or I need to cut off the possibility (in my mind) of a reunion or even a conversation. I need to close the door completely or move with him in a more positive direction. I can't leave it as is-- the door slightly open for whenever he wants to peek through via text.
It doesn't matter either way, though... I am not in control. He wrote me back:
Have to keep mum on the reality show as we're almost about to close, but will let you know how it goes. Slammed with work now, but will get together one day soon.
My response:
Good luck with the show! As for meeting up (or talking), we haven't spoken in two months. Kind of hard to do a friendship that way. But wishing you the best... PS: In 2 weeks I will have one year sober and you will be 31. Yay!
He didn't write back right away to that one. And so, I dutifully went to therapy. When I got out, there was one last message awaiting me:
Work has been crazy, making up for five years of staring at my navel...! See you at some point for sure though.
I didn't respond. After all, there is nothing to say. I think that if I need closure, I'm going to have to find it on my own. He is trying to keep me on a shelf. He's certainly not going to help me do what I need to do...
Anyway, I've had a really rough week. I was sick for most of the weekend and have been overworked this week to the extreme. Yesterday I left my house at 7:30 AM and didn't get home until 9:30 PM. In that time, I taught a class, went to therapy, skimmed a few books and wrote a short paper, got Pinkberry with Bezoukhoff, went to my Modern Britain class and then staggered home. I was wiped! Little did I know, more aggravation awaited me.
I had agreed to fill in for a friend and chair a meeting at a mental institution (set for this afternoon). I have done this commitment for her once before and the last time, I wasn't responsible to find a speaker for the meeting. This time, she mentioned that I should find the speaker. I started asking around last week, but couldn't find anyone. I called my friend, in distress, about this on Sunday and she told me that it wouldn't be a problem-- that I could just ask K on Tuesday night and that she would find someone for me. This was all happening while I was sick-- feverish, aching back and sore throat. Anyway, I found K on Tuesday and told her I didn't have anyone. She said she would get back to me and never did. I called her and left her a message yesterday afternoon. When I got home from class last night, falling over with exhaustion, I found an email from K with ten names and numbers to call to see if anyone could speak. It was nearly 10:00 PM! I thought I would burst into tears.
I called K and complained about the way this whole thing was handled, and started dialing down the list. Nobody could make it. It took an hour and a half and a slew of embarrassing phone calls to find someone. I'm really pissed off and I'm not going to take this commitment again. I just can't handle the stress.
I spoke to my mom about it though (and probably vented a lot of it on her, unfairly), and she reminded me that it is a service and a good deed and that even though it caused me aggravation, it is bringing life and health into the lives of others. She's right, so I tried to reconcile myself with that.
I'm still cranky, though, because today is another mega-long day. I just taught two classes. At 1:30 I have to go to Midtown to chair this meeting. Then at 3:30 I have a doctor's appointment, and tonight I have my regular meeting.
To top it all off, I'm still racing to the finish with my fourth step.
Alright. That's enough complaining for now. I need to go focus on something positive because writing this post has made me feel worse and not better. What I have to do is not what I want to do. The things I want to control are not in my control. I still think of him every day. How many times? Who knows... And I am overwhelmed with the end of the semester. The amount of work I have to do? It's not possible for me to do it. I'm not capable of finishing. And so I have to try to accept less than perfect-- do what I can. I don't like that. I want my all or nothing! It's so much more comfortable.
And I am overwhelmed with trying to be an integrated person. How much easier was it when I could compartmentalize? When I'm with Narc, I am Narc. When I'm writing a paper, I'm a writing machine. That's how I lived. Now I'm "Hyde" all the time and it's a lot harder to manage.
How am I supposed to pull off the tricks? The miracles?
I'm out of tricks...
love,
h
Monday, April 23, 2007
To Make a Long Story Short...
I haven't posted in nearly a week! Maybe it's because I'm sick. Maybe it's because I've been busy... In any case, I'd figure I'd try to write something today...
I never told you about that "date" with TT, did I? I met him after class last Wednesday at the new pub where IrishBird is working. A few of the regulars from Cheers were there-- Manwich, the bouncer, Shay and her sister, etc. Anyway, we ate dinner, sang a few tunes (it was karaoke night) and I decided to take off at around 11:00.
All throughout the dinner, TT was doing little things, like brushing up against my leg, but overall, it wasn't bad. Then he walked me to get a cab. The conversation was as stiff and awkward as ever and as we stood there, staring down Sixth Avenue, the wind in our eyes, not a cab was in sight. We waited... awkwardly... awkwardly... and then he broke the silence.
"I think the universe is trying to send me a message," he said.
"Oh? What's that?"
"That I should kiss you."
He leaned down and did just that.
I wasn't quite sure what to do, as I didn't want to kiss him, nor did I want to repel him. So, I was moderately pliable. Afterwards, I didn't say anything. I think that made the "awkwardness" even worse, so he tried to fix it up by kissing me again, but that did nothing to improve the situation. I again didn't say anything, instead peering forward into the traffic scanning for a cab.
"I didn't mean to maul you," he stammered apologetically.
"Oh, not at all!" I laughed. "I could have fended you off if it was 'mauling.'"
He laughed, but as if he didn't want to. Again, neither of us said another word. Finally, I broke the silence.
"Maybe I'll take the bus," I suggested. "It's not a long walk from here to 42nd."
"Okay," he agreed.
It was good to have something to do-- walking towards a goal.
TT was carrying a bag from "Midtown Comics."
"What's in the bag?" I asked, trying to make conversation.
The answer was two comic book figurines and two comic magazines. He showed me the figurines.
"This Superman looks kind of mad," I said.
"Yeah, he's an evil futuristic superman," he explained.
"So.... comic magazines?" I continued. "Are those comic books themselves, or are they magazines about comic books?"
(As you can see, the conversation was like pulling teeth!)
"No, they're actual comics!" he pulled them from the bag to show me. I feigned interest.
When we got to the bus stop, there were a few little old ladies standing about, clasping theater programs-- we were near the theater district and the evening shows must have just let out. The only problem? No bus in sight.
We waited and waited and waited.
"Why is it so hard to get home tonight?" I finally exclaimed in frustration. "Maybe I'll just walk."
"We've only been here seven minutes," he said.
"Really? I don't know why it seems like so much longer. Probably because I'm so tired. Yeah-- sorry I'm being cranky. I'm just really tired."
"Awww... that's okay," he said. "If you need to rest, you can rest on me."
He put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his chest. TT is about 6'4" so it was height appropriate. I was really tired. And it did feel good to be resting on someones chest. But, then I started to think... there were the voices again.
Hyde!?!, They were calling. Why are you standing on 42nd Street with your head on some man's chest?!?! And what about Narc?
Ugh! I just wanted to get home. I peeled myself out of his embrace and nervously looked for the bus once more. I think he could tell I was growing tense. He pulled me back onto his chest. I closed my eyes again.
"Wait-- over there!" his voice was a sharp intrusion-- a moment of reason, penetrating through my detached and spinning thoughts.
"What?"
"A cab! On the other side."
"I don't think we can get it," I said. "I'll just walk."
"No! We can! Take my hand."
I grabbed onto TT's hand as if we were Jack and Rose on the sinking Titanic and he made a mad rush into the crosstown traffic, pulling me along behind him until we arrived, breathlessly at the door of the cab heading (of course) the wrong way into the night.
TT put me in the cab. He tried to hastily grab one last kiss, which didn't really work, and I was off.
And that was that.
And that night I missed Narc more than ever.
Anyway... as for the rest of the week?
On Thursday I had a special treat in the afternoon-- GoldenFinch was going to be in the city with her husband and BabyBird! I told her that NiS was in town, so the whole bunch of us (plus Anxious) met up near Columbia at Cafe Pertutti. And I have to say-- I have a new love in my life-- BabyBird! He is the most beautiful, perfect baby ever. I love him!!! It was a little surreal to be back up in that neighborhood all together. I really felt the weight of how much time has passed.
From there I rushed off to AA. I was happy to see Meema because I had a present for her-- a silver and gold hand-made pendant that I got her for her anniversary. After AA, I went out with a few of the ladies to celebrate LashGirl's six-month anniversary. I was still feeling insecure about what StarGazer had told me about the previous weekend (that a lot of the girls were gossiping) but that night, I talked to StarGazer on the phone and she assured me that it had nothing to do with me. Phew!
That night, I started to feel run down. My back was aching and I was exhausted beyond belief. So, it was home and to bed with a new episode of Ugly Betty. (By the way-- my sister won't get over the fact that I once said that I loved Betty and Daniel's relationship. "Now I know why you have problems with men!" she keeps telling me.)
Friday was a particularly busy day. I met StarGazer for coffee at noon and we went to a midtown meeting. Afterwards I had to rush off to therapy. Even though I didn't manage to bring up my discomfort with the hypnosis stuff from the previous week, it was a good session. From there, I headed immediately to my voice lesson. I enjoyed the lesson, but not as much as I usually do, as my low energy was clear and holding my body in place to sing felt like a bit of a strain.
After that, I went home to pretty myself for a big event-- Meema's one year anniversary watch! My home group has a tradition of meeting the night before each member's one year anniversary to "watch" that person bring in the year. We always meet at the same diner and it's from 9:00 PM - midnight. I couldn't believe it was time for Meema's year already!!!
I got there right around 9:00. She had saved me a seat next to her husband. Talis was there, of course, which was a little uncomfortable for me. But I just hung out with my friends there-- Cherubino, Lana, LashGirl, StarGazer, Slope, Civyl and a whole slew of others I haven't named. The biggest treat for me, though, was that Bartelby came! I don't know if you guys remember him-- he was in group therapy with me last summer in the outpatient program. He seemed to be doing really well.
At 10 minutes to midnight, Meema got to give a speech about where she was a year ago and about the journey that she's been on this past year. She took a moment to say thank you to me and she went on about what a good friend that I've been to her and what she has learned from me this year, etc. It was so moving that I started to cry. Any tension that was there between me and Talis dissolved at that moment too, because she was able to see how much I care about Meema. It was an incredible night. I am so proud of her.
Saturday was kind of a lousy day for me (nice use of WWI slang, I must say) because it was the first day that I felt really sick. I overslept past the women's meeting that I like to go to, and I spent most of the day feeling terrible, slathering my aching back with bengay and popping Advil and Drixoral like there's no tomorrow. (Okay-- I wasn't that haphazard about it. I took it as indicated.) But I really didn't do much with the day, instead saving all my strength for the evening... Hammer and I had plans to go see Turandot!
From the first chords that came crashing down, my blood ran faster. I forgot how much I love that opera! I had swapped my usual matinee tickets for these, so we were seated in a box-- room for four, but we were the only two there! It was nice to be able to stretch out (and eat our salmon and chocolate in private!).
Hammer was telling me all about Archie and Betty and Veronica and about the Alaskan's musings on the subject-- a perfect introduction to Turandot with its opposing man-eating ice princess and docile slave girl. I had a lot of thoughts on all of that at the time, but lack the energy to articulate them right now... After the opera, we ventured down towards what had once been "Wizard territory" and enjoyed some more conversation at Starbucks.
And then, on Sunday, it was home to Long Island for my stepbrother's birthday party. He'll be 20 on Wednesday and my parents invited his friends (from before the accident), his "girlfriend," my stepfather's family and my relatives on my mom's side and Bro-in-Law's family over for an outdoor picnic lunch. Even though I was feeling sick, I had a good time. It was nice to be around little kids, it was nice to be outside (I know-- I can't believe I just said that either) and best of all, it was nice to see my stepbrother looking happy.
But by the end of the day, I was wiped. I came home, ate Chinese food and went to bed by 9:00 PM. This morning I woke up, taught, came back home by 10:00 AM and went back to bed until 2:00 PM. I'm feeling pretty miserable and can't do much of anything except lay around. Hopefully it will pass soon.
So... that's it for now. I'll try to write more frequently!
lots of love,
h
PS: Mystic-- I haven't had a chance yet to go searching for that music, but I promise I will. :)
I never told you about that "date" with TT, did I? I met him after class last Wednesday at the new pub where IrishBird is working. A few of the regulars from Cheers were there-- Manwich, the bouncer, Shay and her sister, etc. Anyway, we ate dinner, sang a few tunes (it was karaoke night) and I decided to take off at around 11:00.
All throughout the dinner, TT was doing little things, like brushing up against my leg, but overall, it wasn't bad. Then he walked me to get a cab. The conversation was as stiff and awkward as ever and as we stood there, staring down Sixth Avenue, the wind in our eyes, not a cab was in sight. We waited... awkwardly... awkwardly... and then he broke the silence.
"I think the universe is trying to send me a message," he said.
"Oh? What's that?"
"That I should kiss you."
He leaned down and did just that.
I wasn't quite sure what to do, as I didn't want to kiss him, nor did I want to repel him. So, I was moderately pliable. Afterwards, I didn't say anything. I think that made the "awkwardness" even worse, so he tried to fix it up by kissing me again, but that did nothing to improve the situation. I again didn't say anything, instead peering forward into the traffic scanning for a cab.
"I didn't mean to maul you," he stammered apologetically.
"Oh, not at all!" I laughed. "I could have fended you off if it was 'mauling.'"
He laughed, but as if he didn't want to. Again, neither of us said another word. Finally, I broke the silence.
"Maybe I'll take the bus," I suggested. "It's not a long walk from here to 42nd."
"Okay," he agreed.
It was good to have something to do-- walking towards a goal.
TT was carrying a bag from "Midtown Comics."
"What's in the bag?" I asked, trying to make conversation.
The answer was two comic book figurines and two comic magazines. He showed me the figurines.
"This Superman looks kind of mad," I said.
"Yeah, he's an evil futuristic superman," he explained.
"So.... comic magazines?" I continued. "Are those comic books themselves, or are they magazines about comic books?"
(As you can see, the conversation was like pulling teeth!)
"No, they're actual comics!" he pulled them from the bag to show me. I feigned interest.
When we got to the bus stop, there were a few little old ladies standing about, clasping theater programs-- we were near the theater district and the evening shows must have just let out. The only problem? No bus in sight.
We waited and waited and waited.
"Why is it so hard to get home tonight?" I finally exclaimed in frustration. "Maybe I'll just walk."
"We've only been here seven minutes," he said.
"Really? I don't know why it seems like so much longer. Probably because I'm so tired. Yeah-- sorry I'm being cranky. I'm just really tired."
"Awww... that's okay," he said. "If you need to rest, you can rest on me."
He put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his chest. TT is about 6'4" so it was height appropriate. I was really tired. And it did feel good to be resting on someones chest. But, then I started to think... there were the voices again.
Hyde!?!, They were calling. Why are you standing on 42nd Street with your head on some man's chest?!?! And what about Narc?
Ugh! I just wanted to get home. I peeled myself out of his embrace and nervously looked for the bus once more. I think he could tell I was growing tense. He pulled me back onto his chest. I closed my eyes again.
"Wait-- over there!" his voice was a sharp intrusion-- a moment of reason, penetrating through my detached and spinning thoughts.
"What?"
"A cab! On the other side."
"I don't think we can get it," I said. "I'll just walk."
"No! We can! Take my hand."
I grabbed onto TT's hand as if we were Jack and Rose on the sinking Titanic and he made a mad rush into the crosstown traffic, pulling me along behind him until we arrived, breathlessly at the door of the cab heading (of course) the wrong way into the night.
TT put me in the cab. He tried to hastily grab one last kiss, which didn't really work, and I was off.
And that was that.
And that night I missed Narc more than ever.
Anyway... as for the rest of the week?
On Thursday I had a special treat in the afternoon-- GoldenFinch was going to be in the city with her husband and BabyBird! I told her that NiS was in town, so the whole bunch of us (plus Anxious) met up near Columbia at Cafe Pertutti. And I have to say-- I have a new love in my life-- BabyBird! He is the most beautiful, perfect baby ever. I love him!!! It was a little surreal to be back up in that neighborhood all together. I really felt the weight of how much time has passed.
From there I rushed off to AA. I was happy to see Meema because I had a present for her-- a silver and gold hand-made pendant that I got her for her anniversary. After AA, I went out with a few of the ladies to celebrate LashGirl's six-month anniversary. I was still feeling insecure about what StarGazer had told me about the previous weekend (that a lot of the girls were gossiping) but that night, I talked to StarGazer on the phone and she assured me that it had nothing to do with me. Phew!
That night, I started to feel run down. My back was aching and I was exhausted beyond belief. So, it was home and to bed with a new episode of Ugly Betty. (By the way-- my sister won't get over the fact that I once said that I loved Betty and Daniel's relationship. "Now I know why you have problems with men!" she keeps telling me.)
Friday was a particularly busy day. I met StarGazer for coffee at noon and we went to a midtown meeting. Afterwards I had to rush off to therapy. Even though I didn't manage to bring up my discomfort with the hypnosis stuff from the previous week, it was a good session. From there, I headed immediately to my voice lesson. I enjoyed the lesson, but not as much as I usually do, as my low energy was clear and holding my body in place to sing felt like a bit of a strain.
After that, I went home to pretty myself for a big event-- Meema's one year anniversary watch! My home group has a tradition of meeting the night before each member's one year anniversary to "watch" that person bring in the year. We always meet at the same diner and it's from 9:00 PM - midnight. I couldn't believe it was time for Meema's year already!!!
I got there right around 9:00. She had saved me a seat next to her husband. Talis was there, of course, which was a little uncomfortable for me. But I just hung out with my friends there-- Cherubino, Lana, LashGirl, StarGazer, Slope, Civyl and a whole slew of others I haven't named. The biggest treat for me, though, was that Bartelby came! I don't know if you guys remember him-- he was in group therapy with me last summer in the outpatient program. He seemed to be doing really well.
At 10 minutes to midnight, Meema got to give a speech about where she was a year ago and about the journey that she's been on this past year. She took a moment to say thank you to me and she went on about what a good friend that I've been to her and what she has learned from me this year, etc. It was so moving that I started to cry. Any tension that was there between me and Talis dissolved at that moment too, because she was able to see how much I care about Meema. It was an incredible night. I am so proud of her.
Saturday was kind of a lousy day for me (nice use of WWI slang, I must say) because it was the first day that I felt really sick. I overslept past the women's meeting that I like to go to, and I spent most of the day feeling terrible, slathering my aching back with bengay and popping Advil and Drixoral like there's no tomorrow. (Okay-- I wasn't that haphazard about it. I took it as indicated.) But I really didn't do much with the day, instead saving all my strength for the evening... Hammer and I had plans to go see Turandot!
From the first chords that came crashing down, my blood ran faster. I forgot how much I love that opera! I had swapped my usual matinee tickets for these, so we were seated in a box-- room for four, but we were the only two there! It was nice to be able to stretch out (and eat our salmon and chocolate in private!).
Hammer was telling me all about Archie and Betty and Veronica and about the Alaskan's musings on the subject-- a perfect introduction to Turandot with its opposing man-eating ice princess and docile slave girl. I had a lot of thoughts on all of that at the time, but lack the energy to articulate them right now... After the opera, we ventured down towards what had once been "Wizard territory" and enjoyed some more conversation at Starbucks.
And then, on Sunday, it was home to Long Island for my stepbrother's birthday party. He'll be 20 on Wednesday and my parents invited his friends (from before the accident), his "girlfriend," my stepfather's family and my relatives on my mom's side and Bro-in-Law's family over for an outdoor picnic lunch. Even though I was feeling sick, I had a good time. It was nice to be around little kids, it was nice to be outside (I know-- I can't believe I just said that either) and best of all, it was nice to see my stepbrother looking happy.
But by the end of the day, I was wiped. I came home, ate Chinese food and went to bed by 9:00 PM. This morning I woke up, taught, came back home by 10:00 AM and went back to bed until 2:00 PM. I'm feeling pretty miserable and can't do much of anything except lay around. Hopefully it will pass soon.
So... that's it for now. I'll try to write more frequently!
lots of love,
h
PS: Mystic-- I haven't had a chance yet to go searching for that music, but I promise I will. :)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The Theater of the Absurd
I hate to say it even more than I hate to think it, but I really miss him and I really love him. I found myself doodling his name in my notebook during class today, instead of paying attention to the history of the British tax system. (British taxes are a little more interesting than it sounds and no-- I'm not 13 years old).
I also had an exceedingly awkward date with TT tonight (are we dating?). I just spent half an hour recounting it to Hammer in all of its terrible detail and she said that I "have to blog it." I'll give it a go tomorrow...
That's it for now. I want to go to bed before I go crazy. Because tonight my heart is not my own. Tonight, I don't belong to myself.
love,
h
I also had an exceedingly awkward date with TT tonight (are we dating?). I just spent half an hour recounting it to Hammer in all of its terrible detail and she said that I "have to blog it." I'll give it a go tomorrow...
That's it for now. I want to go to bed before I go crazy. Because tonight my heart is not my own. Tonight, I don't belong to myself.
love,
h
Early Morning Madness
I am exhausted this morning. I'm ready for this semester with it's early rising to be over. I've had my fill. I'm done now. But I still have something like five weeks to go.
This weekend was pretty interesting. On Friday, Bezoukhoff and I met at Penn Station and headed out to Long Island to meet my mom. I had a splitting headache as I had forgotten to have my caffeine fix for the day. (Always addicted to something! Yuck.) Anyway, we made a pit stop at Starbucks before hitting the road and I ordered a latte with five extra shots of espresso (I think that makes seven shots total or something). Some guy sitting at a nearby table looked alarmed.
"What?!? Are you walking to New Jersey or something?" he exclaimed.
Anyway, from there, we headed down to Maryland. The drive was relatively easy (my mom did most of the driving) and although it was a little bit surreal to be in a car with the odd couple of my mom and Bezoukhoff for four hours, the conversation flowed.
We got to Baltimore just after 9:00 or so, checked into the hotel and headed into the dining room for a bite to eat. The hotel was really close to the Baltimore airport, so there were a lot of sole business travelers. For some reason, watching them around the restaurant made me really sad. My mom and Bezoukhoff ordered crab cakes to keep in the spirit of things, I guess.
After that, my mom was falling asleep, but I kept her up a little while longer while I practiced reading my paper to her and Bezoukhoff. This is a paper that I wrote in the Spring of 2004-- right before my two years of "bottoming out" really took off. It was a semester-long research project and came out to about seventy pages. I had to massively cut it to read it at this conference-- I got it down to 17-- so I was worried about whether or not it maintained its integrity as a piece of scholarship. Anyway, the subject of the paper is "Victorian constructions of the Renaissance" and (as the subtitle states) "the shift from Gothic to Renaissance revivalism and Victorian Aesthetics."
By the time I was done with the reading, my mom was bleary eyed, it was after midnight, and so we bid Bezoukhoff good night and all headed to bed.
The next morning Bezoukhoff knocked on our door bright and early and the three of us headed down for breakfast. I saw my professor, ProfBrit in the dining room with two other guys. It was kind of strange and I said an awkward hello. After he finished eating, he came over to our table and I introduced him to my mom. My mom is very chatty and sociable and started trying to talk to him a bit, but he is an awkward academic and the conversation just didn't go too smoothly. I, of course, had butterflies in my stomach, as I was worried about reading the paper, so all in all, it made for a rather "awkward" moment.
Anyway, ProfBrit asked if we could fit another student in our car on our way to the university. She was a nice girl-- from Boston University, I think. She was an English PhD candidate.
From there, the conference began. I was set to speak in the third session. The morning session was a little boring, the second more interesting. I ate a big sandwich at the lunch break and felt sleepy while some guy was giving the Plenary address about the Xhosa and missionaries in Southern Africa.
Finally, it was my turn... My paper followed some woman who has already received her PhD (from Harvard) and has published work. It was a little intimidating. But I did what I had to do-- I read my paper (with my stomach flipping a little) and I didn't look up from the page once. But I did speak "artfully," even if I didn't make eye contact. Afterwards, the commentator had a chance to respond to our papers and raised a few challenges to mine (well, to both papers, to be precise). But while it panicked me for a moment, I didn't show it and instead argued in my defense. I'm sure I did well because she took notes on what I was saying.
I have a strange habit, though, of not getting really nervous about something until after it's over. And as soon as the session had ended, I began to feel shaky with anxiety. I was dying for a glass of red wine. DYING! And, as luck would have it, there was a reception with wine being served. I told my mom that we had to avoid the wine and get out of there ASAP.
On our way to the elevators we bumped into ProfBrit who had come in to hear my paper. He said that I did a great job and that if I tweaked the paper a bit, he still thought I could get it published. I'm putting it on back burner for now, but I certainly don't want to forget about it...
In any case, Bezoukhoff, my mom and I hit the road. We decided to come back a night early to avoid driving in the impending storm. I was happily back in my apartment by 10:00 that night.
On Sunday I didn't do much, as I really just needed a morning to myself. At around 4:00 PM I headed down to the village to visit Hammer. We painted watercolors together and drank bubble tea and listened to the mix-CD of German music that I made for her back in 2004. If I have a chance, I'll take a picture of my painting and post it later... I hadn't seen Hammer in SO long that it was nice to be able to catch up. I brought shortbread cookies with me (as I have a habit of eating them when it rains) and it was the perfect day to be indoors and artistic...
From there I went to my AA meeting. Even though I was feeling lazy about going, I'm really glad that I went. Civyl was there and she had relapsed. She was red faced and bleary eyed and asked me for a hug and if she could sit with me and she grabbed onto my hand during the meeting. I was reminded why it's important for me not to miss meetings... Then, at the end of the meeting, I bumped into another new friend-- Pixie. She also burst into tears! She said that she had been home visiting her parents for the weekend and that she had a really hard time there. She went on about it a bit and everything she said echoed the feelings that I have about doing family events. Again-- I was really glad to be there for her to talk it through.
So, I felt good as I climbed into bed that night... even though I hadn't been as "productive" with the day as I would have hoped, I felt surrounded by friendship and art and purpose.
I'm trying to think of what else is going on... A bunch of people from my home-group went to a convention this weekend. I talked to StarGazer who was there and she said she had a miserable time. She was freaked out and said she hated the fellowship and that she was tempted to leave AA. I asked her what had happened and she was really vague about it, only saying that there were malicious cruel-hearted shallow gossips in the group. That made me a little anxious, only because I'm as self-centered as the rest of us and wondered if they had been talking about me. I wondered if that's why she wasn't more specific. In any event, it's best to leave it alone. StarGazer is still pretty upset, but I saw her at the meeting last night and she seems to be doing a little better.
Last night was a rough night for me, though, I have to say... I had a "drunk dream" and it was the most awful, anxiety-provoking experience... so much worse than I ever could have imagined. After the "drunk" in my dream, which was not fun, but was dizzying and terrifying, I wanted to lie to my sponsor about it (in the dream). It was right before my one year anniversary in the dream (as in life, I suppose) and I was insane about the idea of having to start day-counting again. I was lying to everyone in the dream, and feeling so incredibly sick about it. This nightmare seemed to last the whole night through. I don't know why this is coming up right now. I know I have a lot of anxiety about the year-marker approaching, but I didn't realize how bad it was. Perhaps it is made worse by the fact that Meema's anniversary is this Saturday, so we've been talking about it all week... And even though I'm pretty much "over him," I'm sad about the fact that I won't be celebrating my anniversary with Brick...
In any case, I guess that's it for now. I have a "date" with TT tonight. As I said to Hammer on the phone last night, I feel like TT and I have been on a bad first date for a year and a half. It's not really a date tonight, I guess... we're just going to say hi to IrishBird because she works at a pub just four blocks from where I go to school... I don't want to walk into a bar alone and I think TT just wants an excuse to hang out with me... Whatever...
Oh-- also, my friend NiS is in town from Paris. I had lunch with him yesterday and we strolled parts of our old haunting grounds on the Upper West Side. They knocked down a building at the corner of 72nd and Broadway and that freaked me out a bit. Also strange-- we bumped into B at La Caridad! On Thursday GoldenFinch is going to be in the city, and I told her NiS is here, so we may all have a little reunion...
Okay... that's it for now.
lots of love,
h
This weekend was pretty interesting. On Friday, Bezoukhoff and I met at Penn Station and headed out to Long Island to meet my mom. I had a splitting headache as I had forgotten to have my caffeine fix for the day. (Always addicted to something! Yuck.) Anyway, we made a pit stop at Starbucks before hitting the road and I ordered a latte with five extra shots of espresso (I think that makes seven shots total or something). Some guy sitting at a nearby table looked alarmed.
"What?!? Are you walking to New Jersey or something?" he exclaimed.
Anyway, from there, we headed down to Maryland. The drive was relatively easy (my mom did most of the driving) and although it was a little bit surreal to be in a car with the odd couple of my mom and Bezoukhoff for four hours, the conversation flowed.
We got to Baltimore just after 9:00 or so, checked into the hotel and headed into the dining room for a bite to eat. The hotel was really close to the Baltimore airport, so there were a lot of sole business travelers. For some reason, watching them around the restaurant made me really sad. My mom and Bezoukhoff ordered crab cakes to keep in the spirit of things, I guess.
After that, my mom was falling asleep, but I kept her up a little while longer while I practiced reading my paper to her and Bezoukhoff. This is a paper that I wrote in the Spring of 2004-- right before my two years of "bottoming out" really took off. It was a semester-long research project and came out to about seventy pages. I had to massively cut it to read it at this conference-- I got it down to 17-- so I was worried about whether or not it maintained its integrity as a piece of scholarship. Anyway, the subject of the paper is "Victorian constructions of the Renaissance" and (as the subtitle states) "the shift from Gothic to Renaissance revivalism and Victorian Aesthetics."
By the time I was done with the reading, my mom was bleary eyed, it was after midnight, and so we bid Bezoukhoff good night and all headed to bed.
The next morning Bezoukhoff knocked on our door bright and early and the three of us headed down for breakfast. I saw my professor, ProfBrit in the dining room with two other guys. It was kind of strange and I said an awkward hello. After he finished eating, he came over to our table and I introduced him to my mom. My mom is very chatty and sociable and started trying to talk to him a bit, but he is an awkward academic and the conversation just didn't go too smoothly. I, of course, had butterflies in my stomach, as I was worried about reading the paper, so all in all, it made for a rather "awkward" moment.
Anyway, ProfBrit asked if we could fit another student in our car on our way to the university. She was a nice girl-- from Boston University, I think. She was an English PhD candidate.
From there, the conference began. I was set to speak in the third session. The morning session was a little boring, the second more interesting. I ate a big sandwich at the lunch break and felt sleepy while some guy was giving the Plenary address about the Xhosa and missionaries in Southern Africa.
Finally, it was my turn... My paper followed some woman who has already received her PhD (from Harvard) and has published work. It was a little intimidating. But I did what I had to do-- I read my paper (with my stomach flipping a little) and I didn't look up from the page once. But I did speak "artfully," even if I didn't make eye contact. Afterwards, the commentator had a chance to respond to our papers and raised a few challenges to mine (well, to both papers, to be precise). But while it panicked me for a moment, I didn't show it and instead argued in my defense. I'm sure I did well because she took notes on what I was saying.
I have a strange habit, though, of not getting really nervous about something until after it's over. And as soon as the session had ended, I began to feel shaky with anxiety. I was dying for a glass of red wine. DYING! And, as luck would have it, there was a reception with wine being served. I told my mom that we had to avoid the wine and get out of there ASAP.
On our way to the elevators we bumped into ProfBrit who had come in to hear my paper. He said that I did a great job and that if I tweaked the paper a bit, he still thought I could get it published. I'm putting it on back burner for now, but I certainly don't want to forget about it...
In any case, Bezoukhoff, my mom and I hit the road. We decided to come back a night early to avoid driving in the impending storm. I was happily back in my apartment by 10:00 that night.
On Sunday I didn't do much, as I really just needed a morning to myself. At around 4:00 PM I headed down to the village to visit Hammer. We painted watercolors together and drank bubble tea and listened to the mix-CD of German music that I made for her back in 2004. If I have a chance, I'll take a picture of my painting and post it later... I hadn't seen Hammer in SO long that it was nice to be able to catch up. I brought shortbread cookies with me (as I have a habit of eating them when it rains) and it was the perfect day to be indoors and artistic...
From there I went to my AA meeting. Even though I was feeling lazy about going, I'm really glad that I went. Civyl was there and she had relapsed. She was red faced and bleary eyed and asked me for a hug and if she could sit with me and she grabbed onto my hand during the meeting. I was reminded why it's important for me not to miss meetings... Then, at the end of the meeting, I bumped into another new friend-- Pixie. She also burst into tears! She said that she had been home visiting her parents for the weekend and that she had a really hard time there. She went on about it a bit and everything she said echoed the feelings that I have about doing family events. Again-- I was really glad to be there for her to talk it through.
So, I felt good as I climbed into bed that night... even though I hadn't been as "productive" with the day as I would have hoped, I felt surrounded by friendship and art and purpose.
I'm trying to think of what else is going on... A bunch of people from my home-group went to a convention this weekend. I talked to StarGazer who was there and she said she had a miserable time. She was freaked out and said she hated the fellowship and that she was tempted to leave AA. I asked her what had happened and she was really vague about it, only saying that there were malicious cruel-hearted shallow gossips in the group. That made me a little anxious, only because I'm as self-centered as the rest of us and wondered if they had been talking about me. I wondered if that's why she wasn't more specific. In any event, it's best to leave it alone. StarGazer is still pretty upset, but I saw her at the meeting last night and she seems to be doing a little better.
Last night was a rough night for me, though, I have to say... I had a "drunk dream" and it was the most awful, anxiety-provoking experience... so much worse than I ever could have imagined. After the "drunk" in my dream, which was not fun, but was dizzying and terrifying, I wanted to lie to my sponsor about it (in the dream). It was right before my one year anniversary in the dream (as in life, I suppose) and I was insane about the idea of having to start day-counting again. I was lying to everyone in the dream, and feeling so incredibly sick about it. This nightmare seemed to last the whole night through. I don't know why this is coming up right now. I know I have a lot of anxiety about the year-marker approaching, but I didn't realize how bad it was. Perhaps it is made worse by the fact that Meema's anniversary is this Saturday, so we've been talking about it all week... And even though I'm pretty much "over him," I'm sad about the fact that I won't be celebrating my anniversary with Brick...
In any case, I guess that's it for now. I have a "date" with TT tonight. As I said to Hammer on the phone last night, I feel like TT and I have been on a bad first date for a year and a half. It's not really a date tonight, I guess... we're just going to say hi to IrishBird because she works at a pub just four blocks from where I go to school... I don't want to walk into a bar alone and I think TT just wants an excuse to hang out with me... Whatever...
Oh-- also, my friend NiS is in town from Paris. I had lunch with him yesterday and we strolled parts of our old haunting grounds on the Upper West Side. They knocked down a building at the corner of 72nd and Broadway and that freaked me out a bit. Also strange-- we bumped into B at La Caridad! On Thursday GoldenFinch is going to be in the city, and I told her NiS is here, so we may all have a little reunion...
Okay... that's it for now.
lots of love,
h
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Gratitude
Back from the conference. We came back early to avoid the rain. Will write more about it tomorrow. For now, I'm pensive. Still in the process of typing up my old journals. Came across an account of that New Year's Eve-- the one that is still hanging between me and BigSis. Chilling. My life today is a miracle. I'm reproducing it here because it's what I'm going to bed with tonight-- the sickness of the memory, but an enormous gratitude for God.
Love,
H
PS: Just to set the story-- BigSis invited a bunch of her friends to a party at my friend, AIR7's house. AIR7 and I were sleeping together and I was emotionally invested, but he was also "dating' someone else. My sister and her friends were at this party, as was I, as was AIR7 and as was the other girl he was dating...
**************************************
Stolen kisses and screwdrivers were what colored the night. He held my waist in the kitchen and I laced double and triple shots of vodka with cranberry juice. "She" was there, and couldn't understand why he didn't respond to her sliding hands and pathetic whimpers.
"What should I do?" she whispered to me, in confidence.
I told her to forget about him and that he didn't care about her. His anxious eyes darted rapidly, as he tried to read our lips from across the room. I smiled with a slur, and her smile was the same.
And then we were in his bedroom and he was kissing me again. Murmurs of laughter and the violent clacking of quarters against the coffee table muffled through the walls. I don"t remember what we fought about, only that I was miserable and confused. Did I love him? Could I love him? Did he love her? And if not, why was she there? And what about my sister... how much did she see? How much did she know?
The panic began to ride the waves of alcohol, vehemently preventing any relaxation that it might have brought and rising in my heart until it pumped so hard that I was sure I would die. The blood poured too fast through my veins and there was much too much of it. I could feel it sloshing against the walls of my body, and sure I would drown, I needed to release it. I reached for the razor blade that I had left there, months before, carefully hidden in my rusting Russian cigarette case inside his upper desk drawer. I needed that release in a way that I know most people will never even begin to understand. But he was fighting me, trying to pull it from my fist, and fearful that he would win before I would bleed, I began to squeeze it tighter in my palm, pressing my soft plump finger tips against the gleaming blade, not aware, in my drunkenness that it was too old, too dull and had sliced through my numbness too many times before to do any real damage.
He twisted my wrists back and forth, and I laughed beneath the rush of pain, until it became too much and my palm sprawled open. Ever the quick thinker, I dashed around him and into the bathroom, locking the door in relief, frantically grabbing at the blue Gilette on the sink’s edge. It wasn't as ideal as the blades that I usually buy, but I could figure out a way to make it work. And so I scraped it up and down my fingers, bits of flesh spraying against the wall, mixed with dripping blood and dripping tears. I spit him out onto the tiled walls and I spit out my heart in the dripping and sweet red waters that spilled from my palm and onto the crusted bathroom floor. Relieved and determined, I elbowed the door open with a drunken slam, wobbling into the kitchen, leaving a delicate trail of crimson droplets behind me.
And my mind slashed through the air that was suddenly so thick. The tangy rusted tap water blurred my eyes and then my sister was there, and her boyfriend. And I laughed, imagining my blood to be mixing with vodka and not water. And in a flash, they were gone. And between black holes, my sister's contorted face, twisted in pain hangs before my own. And then he was back and we were kissing in the elevator. I slid to the floor, purple with tears and insisted that I was not a tramp. But my chronology is wrong, still. And smiling Indian faces that I did not know, and the long and narrow smelling hallway. And my sister cried and I struck her with my words and my bloody fleshless fingers, and then we were back inside, where all was quiet. And who would be in his bed that night? The blue carpet stretched on endlessly, and I only knew that it couldn't be her. And the jagged patterns of the wooden bookshelf fell into the mirror, where I caught the reflection of my blackened mascara-streaked cheeks and burning pink eyes, as I spun around in endless circles in some imagined gypsy dance.
Their anxiety was everywhere... they surrounded me like vultures... all of them against me! And I felt myself falling from hundreds of miles above. I knew it was coming, and anticipated it somewhat orgasmically.
"I am going to pass out now," I said.
I wondered what year it was. My face was scarcely two inches from a book. The book was blue and it matched the carpet. I counted that it was the third one on the shelf, and my head swayed dangerously closer and closer. But wait! It was the carpet, and my cheeks scraped against it in blackness. My mind had abandoned me when I needed it most; or rather, I had killed my own mind to numb my heart.
The next morning, I awoke to the hell of consequence.
Happy 1999.
Love,
H
PS: Just to set the story-- BigSis invited a bunch of her friends to a party at my friend, AIR7's house. AIR7 and I were sleeping together and I was emotionally invested, but he was also "dating' someone else. My sister and her friends were at this party, as was I, as was AIR7 and as was the other girl he was dating...
**************************************
Stolen kisses and screwdrivers were what colored the night. He held my waist in the kitchen and I laced double and triple shots of vodka with cranberry juice. "She" was there, and couldn't understand why he didn't respond to her sliding hands and pathetic whimpers.
"What should I do?" she whispered to me, in confidence.
I told her to forget about him and that he didn't care about her. His anxious eyes darted rapidly, as he tried to read our lips from across the room. I smiled with a slur, and her smile was the same.
And then we were in his bedroom and he was kissing me again. Murmurs of laughter and the violent clacking of quarters against the coffee table muffled through the walls. I don"t remember what we fought about, only that I was miserable and confused. Did I love him? Could I love him? Did he love her? And if not, why was she there? And what about my sister... how much did she see? How much did she know?
The panic began to ride the waves of alcohol, vehemently preventing any relaxation that it might have brought and rising in my heart until it pumped so hard that I was sure I would die. The blood poured too fast through my veins and there was much too much of it. I could feel it sloshing against the walls of my body, and sure I would drown, I needed to release it. I reached for the razor blade that I had left there, months before, carefully hidden in my rusting Russian cigarette case inside his upper desk drawer. I needed that release in a way that I know most people will never even begin to understand. But he was fighting me, trying to pull it from my fist, and fearful that he would win before I would bleed, I began to squeeze it tighter in my palm, pressing my soft plump finger tips against the gleaming blade, not aware, in my drunkenness that it was too old, too dull and had sliced through my numbness too many times before to do any real damage.
He twisted my wrists back and forth, and I laughed beneath the rush of pain, until it became too much and my palm sprawled open. Ever the quick thinker, I dashed around him and into the bathroom, locking the door in relief, frantically grabbing at the blue Gilette on the sink’s edge. It wasn't as ideal as the blades that I usually buy, but I could figure out a way to make it work. And so I scraped it up and down my fingers, bits of flesh spraying against the wall, mixed with dripping blood and dripping tears. I spit him out onto the tiled walls and I spit out my heart in the dripping and sweet red waters that spilled from my palm and onto the crusted bathroom floor. Relieved and determined, I elbowed the door open with a drunken slam, wobbling into the kitchen, leaving a delicate trail of crimson droplets behind me.
And my mind slashed through the air that was suddenly so thick. The tangy rusted tap water blurred my eyes and then my sister was there, and her boyfriend. And I laughed, imagining my blood to be mixing with vodka and not water. And in a flash, they were gone. And between black holes, my sister's contorted face, twisted in pain hangs before my own. And then he was back and we were kissing in the elevator. I slid to the floor, purple with tears and insisted that I was not a tramp. But my chronology is wrong, still. And smiling Indian faces that I did not know, and the long and narrow smelling hallway. And my sister cried and I struck her with my words and my bloody fleshless fingers, and then we were back inside, where all was quiet. And who would be in his bed that night? The blue carpet stretched on endlessly, and I only knew that it couldn't be her. And the jagged patterns of the wooden bookshelf fell into the mirror, where I caught the reflection of my blackened mascara-streaked cheeks and burning pink eyes, as I spun around in endless circles in some imagined gypsy dance.
Their anxiety was everywhere... they surrounded me like vultures... all of them against me! And I felt myself falling from hundreds of miles above. I knew it was coming, and anticipated it somewhat orgasmically.
"I am going to pass out now," I said.
I wondered what year it was. My face was scarcely two inches from a book. The book was blue and it matched the carpet. I counted that it was the third one on the shelf, and my head swayed dangerously closer and closer. But wait! It was the carpet, and my cheeks scraped against it in blackness. My mind had abandoned me when I needed it most; or rather, I had killed my own mind to numb my heart.
The next morning, I awoke to the hell of consequence.
Happy 1999.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
In Love with Brezhnev
I am in better spirits today... sort of. I just love my friends. I met up with Bezoukhoff this afternoon.
"I have a new love," he told me.
"What? Who? What is it???" I demanded.
"Brezhnev!" he announced.
That was just perfect...
We ate Korean food followed by Pinkberry which seems to be the new "drug of choice" among my AA friends. I was a few minutes late to my AA meeting, as we got caught in the tunnel heading towards Grand Central-- a tunnel that I compared to the devil's esophagus. Cherubino scolded me. I was a little annoyed.
Anyway, after AA I had a long talk walking Meema to the subway. Then I met up with Slope, LashGirl and StarGazer for dinner followed by dessert at Serendipity. I don't think I've laughed so hard in quite a long time. Granted, we were all doing a little "drunkalog" sharing, but it was good to laugh. It was even better to make other people laugh.
"I never realized how hysterical you were!" LashGirl said.
Anyway, I have to get to bed, as I'm leaving for Maryland tomorrow to present a conference paper and I haven't even finished the paper yet, so I have to get up and do it tomorrow morning! (Nothing like saving things for the last minute...)
Oh-- and I got hypnotized by my therapist today. And something really disturbed me about it and so I don't want to talk about it, think about it or write about it.
I want to go polish my nails and then go to sleep.
Oh-- and my eyes are red and stinging from allergies. It sucks, but it sort of makes me look like a Bouguereau. And in a way, there's nothing better than that, right? I can't think of anything right now... In fact, my complexion kind of matches that in the painting.
Spring can bring its own lovely aestheticized illness-infused beauty, I suppose.
I'm just glad to be feeling better. Thank God for good friends, new friends and denial, and for the fact that I've managed to squelch whatever was trying to come through during therapy.
Sometimes I hope that I will never know my own secrets.
Wish me luck at the conference. I may not be back to write before Sunday...
Lots of love,
h
"I have a new love," he told me.
"What? Who? What is it???" I demanded.
"Brezhnev!" he announced.
That was just perfect...
We ate Korean food followed by Pinkberry which seems to be the new "drug of choice" among my AA friends. I was a few minutes late to my AA meeting, as we got caught in the tunnel heading towards Grand Central-- a tunnel that I compared to the devil's esophagus. Cherubino scolded me. I was a little annoyed.
Anyway, after AA I had a long talk walking Meema to the subway. Then I met up with Slope, LashGirl and StarGazer for dinner followed by dessert at Serendipity. I don't think I've laughed so hard in quite a long time. Granted, we were all doing a little "drunkalog" sharing, but it was good to laugh. It was even better to make other people laugh.
"I never realized how hysterical you were!" LashGirl said.
Anyway, I have to get to bed, as I'm leaving for Maryland tomorrow to present a conference paper and I haven't even finished the paper yet, so I have to get up and do it tomorrow morning! (Nothing like saving things for the last minute...)
Oh-- and I got hypnotized by my therapist today. And something really disturbed me about it and so I don't want to talk about it, think about it or write about it.
I want to go polish my nails and then go to sleep.
Oh-- and my eyes are red and stinging from allergies. It sucks, but it sort of makes me look like a Bouguereau. And in a way, there's nothing better than that, right? I can't think of anything right now... In fact, my complexion kind of matches that in the painting.Spring can bring its own lovely aestheticized illness-infused beauty, I suppose.
I'm just glad to be feeling better. Thank God for good friends, new friends and denial, and for the fact that I've managed to squelch whatever was trying to come through during therapy.
Sometimes I hope that I will never know my own secrets.
Wish me luck at the conference. I may not be back to write before Sunday...
Lots of love,
h
Lo! How a Rose...
This is a picture of the rose that NDN got for me on Sunday night. Isn't it pretty?
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
To the Guillotine
Damn, it seems like forever since I've posted! I guess I'm just not the blogger I used to be...
So much is going on, but at the same time, nothing at all. I had the week off from teaching which was pretty nice. I'm trying to remember everything that I did, but it's all a blur and I'm feeling lazy. I spent a lot of time with new AA friends this week. Too many new "blog names" to come up with! On Tuesday after the meeting I went out to California Pizza Kitchen with a bunch of people and then up to Pinkberry for frozen yogurt. My friend Lana qualified, and she is obsessed with Pinkberry. Yum...
I saw Dan a few times this week-- once for our trip to MoMA (which I mentioned in a previous post) and then again for dinner at Veselka on Thursday and to see The Host at the movies and then again on Saturday night, hanging out at NDN's place.
But before I get to Saturday, there's Friday, right? I went to Long Island on Friday to stay over at my parents and spend some time with my stepbrother. My grandpa was there too. We all ate Chinese food for dinner and I played some '50's tunes and some Motown on piano and my stepbrother sang-- a new favorite activity of his. Later, I wanted to show off to my mom some of my new vocal techniques, so I sang her a little "Pace mio dio" a capella. My stepfather said that the other side of the house was shaking when I hit the B-flat!
On Saturday, my mom drove me back into the city, as we had tickets to see Andrea Chenier (with Ben Heppner in the title role). My mom and I used to always argue at the opera-- she would comment about how foolish the heroines behaved and I would roll my eyes, believing that she just didn't understand the purity of their love-- a love that would bring them to die for their lover! This time, she articulated her usual argument. The story takes place during the French Revolution. At the end of the opera, the poet, Andre Chenier, is sentenced to die. A noblewoman, Maddalena is in love with him and is trying to save him. Meanwhile, a good hearted revolutionary-- Gerard is in love with Maddalena. Gerard helps her switch places with a woman on death row so that she can go to her death alongside Chenier.
"This is ridiculous," my mom said, as the performers took their bows. "When she couldn't get Chenier out of prison, why didn't she just marry Gerard, have a baby and name him Andre? What's with this getting guillotined by choice?"
For once, I agreed with her. The first major sign of psychological change that I've seen in myself for quite some time.
Anyway, that evening I had plans to meet B and Drippy (whose blog name I am considering changing if B is going to be visiting this site!) at church for the annual Easter vigil. I had invited Lana to come, but she had too much schoolwork. Another girl from AA joined me instead--LashGirl.
It was really important for me to go to Easter services this year. Last year, on Good Friday the priest gave an incredibly moving sermon on "Holy Discomfort." I was bottoming out and didn't know it. I also wrote about the Saturday night Easter Vigil service. It's kind of creepy to look back on those posts now, seeing myself so desperate and so lost, so unaware of the enormous turn-around that was just about to come... Anyway, I wasn't thrilled about hanging out with Drippy, but it was really important for me to be there...
I got there first. B and Drippy were running late and when they arrived she was incredibly stand-offish and vacant. LashGirl arrived shortly thereafter. I don't think Drippy said a single word to her, although B tried to make some chit chat.
When we went to sit down, the long pews were divided halfway through with an arm-rest. The four of us tried to squeeze on one side of the bench. Suddenly, Drippy announced that she was moving to a different row.
"What's wrong?" someone asked.
"Ugh! I can't breathe!" she muttered with a disgustingly soured look on her face.
"Just ask us to move down, then," I said.
LashGirl got up and moved to the other side of the arm-rest.
Anyway, it's not worth going into every detail of the rest of the service. As beautiful as it was, there was a cloud of negativity floating above our pew. At least LashGirl was probably oblivious to most of it.
Afterwards, Drippy rushed out of the pew and out of the church, not pausing to wait for me, as I got stuck behind a crowd filing out of other rows. When I finally caught up with her and B outside, B had a smile on his face.
"I'm starving!" he said. "Where to?"
"I don't know, wherever," I answered. "I don't know if I'm hungry enough for a whole meal, but I'll go anywhere."
"I don't have any money," Drippy said passively, starting vacantly into space.
"It's okay, I can spot you," said B, growing slightly more uncomfortable.
"No. I mean, I don't want to spend money going out," she said.
It was so fucking awkward and so fucking weird and so fucking passive aggressive. I wanted to punch her, but bit my lip not to be tempted.
"So.... are you saying you want to go home?" I asked. "We'll all just go home?"
"Um... yeah," she said, still with that passive tone in her voice.
I couldn't believe how rude she was.
We all headed down the church steps. She was still a step or two ahead of me, tripping over herself to get away. She tried to cut through the 48th street tunnel to Grand Central, but it was closed. B hung back and talked to me. I can only imagine that he was embarrassed about her anti-social behavior. I tried to soften it with small talk.
"So...are you on Spring Break now too?" I asked her.
"No." she said. "I had that last week."
"Was it fun?" I asked.
"No. It was depressing."
She said that in a way that just shot me down, as if to shut me up.
"Oh, that's too bad," I said. "Why?"
"There was nothing to do," came her response.
"At least you could probably catch up on work... or get ahead on work, right?" I smiled.
"No." she said flatly.
Finally, when we got to my street, I had to turn off. She didn't even pause for a second to let me say goodbye to them. I'm not used to such anti-social behavior. I didn't even know how to react. It made me feel horrible-- that someone would want so badly to get away from me when I've been doing my best to put my feelings aside and befriend her.
"Happy Easter!" I called after them as they shuffled away.
Back at my place, I went downstairs to hang out with NDN and his friend who was visiting from Argentina. (The same friend whose house we were at on New Year's Eve '05-'06). I invited Dan to come over as well and StarGazer. We ordered in Chinese food and watched part of a repeat of Saturday Night Live and even played a pretty lame round of "truth or dare."
Anyway, on Sunday I headed back to Long Island for Easter at Bro-in-Law's parents' house. It was a pretty standard holiday. The kids, D&D were running around being adorable. Bro-in-Laws cousins were there, as were my mom's sister and her husband and my grandpa. I had a good time until around 5:30 when I started to feel like shit.
I've been struggling with suicidal feelings a lot ever since I started to accept the end of things with Narc... feelings that are too hard to talk about. Don't worry... it's not anything too serious-- I mean-- they're just thoughts, but I have no impulse for suicidal action. But anyway, I started to get hit with a wave of that later in the evening. I told my mom I wanted to head back to the city and that I needed someone to drive me to the train. She said that it was too early to leave and that there was no one to drive me.
"Okay," I said.
And I went back to leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to make small talk with my Aunt. But I felt like I was going to vomit. And I felt such a mounting discomfort that I couldn't tolerate it. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to die. I wanted to get out of there. I don't know why or where the feeling came from. I just HAD to be back in my own element.
"Mom, I need to go NOW," I said.
I guess there must have been something in my eye that made her take me seriously because not two minutes later, we were in the car and on our way to the train station. And I burst into tears. I couldn't help it. I really just want to die. I feel like I am bottoming in sobriety and I simply don't know what to do about it.
Anyway, I don't want to get into all that.
The rest of the evening started to turn up. I had plans for Cherubino to come over and spend the night, and we couldn't have picked a more perfect night, given my state of mind.
She came by at around 9:00 with StarGazer and we all just hung out and talked and watched Rocky on DVD-- apparently one of my sponsor's favorite movies. At one point, NDN came up to meet my sponsor and he wanted me to meet BumbleBee, a new girl he's dating. He brought me a rose, just to win my sponsor's approval. Ha ha...
StarGazer left at around midnight, but Cherubino and I stayed up until around 2:00 just talking. It was really cool because I got to hear a lot more of her story and I got to open up to her about some of the things that are more difficult for me to talk about. I feel like we both got to know each other a lot better that night.
The next morning she came grocery shopping with me-- something that may seem simple to most of you, but I have a really hard time with it. We made a list together and went through each of the aisles and looked at labels and prices and made a plan. It was so nice of her to give me that time. I felt pretty good about it afterwards.
I didn't do much for the rest of Monday, except be pretty depressed. I'm glad I dragged myself out to my meditation meeting though... I got to see LashGirl there and Civyl, a newcomer I'm becoming friends with, and Leseco and some others, and it helped a little. I really couldn't focus though. I couldn't follow the speaker and I really couldn't meditate. It was alarming to me.
It wasn't until later that I realized I hadn't taken my antidepressants in three days because I was lazy about refilling the prescription. I'm hoping that some of the hopelessness I'm feeling will go away now that I'm back on them...
In any case, today was another pretty miserable (but strangely not miserable and sort of OK) day. I had lunch with B at Blockheads. He brought up the whole subject of Drippy and I was glad because I got to point out to him the way she behaved on Saturday (which he was already well aware of).
"I'm not saying she's a bad person," I said. "I know you love her. But I don't want to be treated like that by anybody. She says she wants to be my friend, but I'm not going to spend time with someone who can't be cordial to me."
B completely understands, but feels caught in the middle. I told him that this is really Drippy's problem and if she wants to bring her problem to me, BRING IT ON. I would have no issue sitting down with her one on one and letting her say everything to my face instead of burdening B with her irrational feelings and then having him come to me to try to fix the whole thing...
Ugh!
In any case, I went out this afternoon to do a little shopping. I had to buy a pair of black pants so that I have something to wear to my conference next weekend and then again in May for my anniversary night. I hate shopping. And I especially hate shopping now that I've put on so much weight. A year of eating chocolate may have kept me sober, but it did nothing for my waistline. I wish I hadn't gone shopping at all. I took a cab home and again found myself plotting my own death. Why does my mind keep wandering off in that direction! It's a little maddening. I don't want to think like that, but I can't help it...
Tonight I headed over to my meeting, the milk in tow. Again, I couldn't really focus much and definitely didn't want to be there, but I'm glad I went because I am committed to my meetings and I didn't let my negative feelings dictate my actions.
Now I'm home and here and trying to write something quickly before bed.
Tomorrow it's back to teaching for the first time in over a week. I'm getting observed. Yuck! I won't yet be acclimated to my 6:00 am wake-up time and I have to be evaluated!
Anyway, I also have a voice lesson tomorrow. That's one thing that has been going really well. I love it and I'm happy when I sing. A few other odds and ends-- my psychiatrist is talking to me about the possibility of hypnosis. He asked me to do some eye-rolling test and said that I am highly suggestible for hypnosis. Also, I made an appointment this week to see a diabetes specialist at Columbia Presbyterian. My insulin problems are kind of out of control. I feel like I am completely powerless over my body and everything is a mess. I've only gotten one period since January, and before that I was always very regular with that kind of thing. Add that to the rapid weight gain, the out of control mood swings and suicidal feelings... I feel trapped and like no one can figure out this whole biological chemical mess. But, I have to try to find help and at least get myself to the right people to help me...
On the Narc front, I've heard from him sporadically-- most recently today. But today I prompted it. I sent him a text (don't ask me why) and he wrote back. I just don't want to go into it right now, but it was a shit thing to do to myself. It left me feeling absolutely awful-- rejected, sick, horrible, nauseated, pining, helpless... Why did I do that to myself?
It's really fucking hard not to drink.
It's really fucking hard not to kill myself.
Tomorrow it's back to the grindstone.
love,
h
So much is going on, but at the same time, nothing at all. I had the week off from teaching which was pretty nice. I'm trying to remember everything that I did, but it's all a blur and I'm feeling lazy. I spent a lot of time with new AA friends this week. Too many new "blog names" to come up with! On Tuesday after the meeting I went out to California Pizza Kitchen with a bunch of people and then up to Pinkberry for frozen yogurt. My friend Lana qualified, and she is obsessed with Pinkberry. Yum...
I saw Dan a few times this week-- once for our trip to MoMA (which I mentioned in a previous post) and then again for dinner at Veselka on Thursday and to see The Host at the movies and then again on Saturday night, hanging out at NDN's place.
But before I get to Saturday, there's Friday, right? I went to Long Island on Friday to stay over at my parents and spend some time with my stepbrother. My grandpa was there too. We all ate Chinese food for dinner and I played some '50's tunes and some Motown on piano and my stepbrother sang-- a new favorite activity of his. Later, I wanted to show off to my mom some of my new vocal techniques, so I sang her a little "Pace mio dio" a capella. My stepfather said that the other side of the house was shaking when I hit the B-flat!
On Saturday, my mom drove me back into the city, as we had tickets to see Andrea Chenier (with Ben Heppner in the title role). My mom and I used to always argue at the opera-- she would comment about how foolish the heroines behaved and I would roll my eyes, believing that she just didn't understand the purity of their love-- a love that would bring them to die for their lover! This time, she articulated her usual argument. The story takes place during the French Revolution. At the end of the opera, the poet, Andre Chenier, is sentenced to die. A noblewoman, Maddalena is in love with him and is trying to save him. Meanwhile, a good hearted revolutionary-- Gerard is in love with Maddalena. Gerard helps her switch places with a woman on death row so that she can go to her death alongside Chenier.
"This is ridiculous," my mom said, as the performers took their bows. "When she couldn't get Chenier out of prison, why didn't she just marry Gerard, have a baby and name him Andre? What's with this getting guillotined by choice?"
For once, I agreed with her. The first major sign of psychological change that I've seen in myself for quite some time.
Anyway, that evening I had plans to meet B and Drippy (whose blog name I am considering changing if B is going to be visiting this site!) at church for the annual Easter vigil. I had invited Lana to come, but she had too much schoolwork. Another girl from AA joined me instead--LashGirl.
It was really important for me to go to Easter services this year. Last year, on Good Friday the priest gave an incredibly moving sermon on "Holy Discomfort." I was bottoming out and didn't know it. I also wrote about the Saturday night Easter Vigil service. It's kind of creepy to look back on those posts now, seeing myself so desperate and so lost, so unaware of the enormous turn-around that was just about to come... Anyway, I wasn't thrilled about hanging out with Drippy, but it was really important for me to be there...
I got there first. B and Drippy were running late and when they arrived she was incredibly stand-offish and vacant. LashGirl arrived shortly thereafter. I don't think Drippy said a single word to her, although B tried to make some chit chat.
When we went to sit down, the long pews were divided halfway through with an arm-rest. The four of us tried to squeeze on one side of the bench. Suddenly, Drippy announced that she was moving to a different row.
"What's wrong?" someone asked.
"Ugh! I can't breathe!" she muttered with a disgustingly soured look on her face.
"Just ask us to move down, then," I said.
LashGirl got up and moved to the other side of the arm-rest.
Anyway, it's not worth going into every detail of the rest of the service. As beautiful as it was, there was a cloud of negativity floating above our pew. At least LashGirl was probably oblivious to most of it.
Afterwards, Drippy rushed out of the pew and out of the church, not pausing to wait for me, as I got stuck behind a crowd filing out of other rows. When I finally caught up with her and B outside, B had a smile on his face.
"I'm starving!" he said. "Where to?"
"I don't know, wherever," I answered. "I don't know if I'm hungry enough for a whole meal, but I'll go anywhere."
"I don't have any money," Drippy said passively, starting vacantly into space.
"It's okay, I can spot you," said B, growing slightly more uncomfortable.
"No. I mean, I don't want to spend money going out," she said.
It was so fucking awkward and so fucking weird and so fucking passive aggressive. I wanted to punch her, but bit my lip not to be tempted.
"So.... are you saying you want to go home?" I asked. "We'll all just go home?"
"Um... yeah," she said, still with that passive tone in her voice.
I couldn't believe how rude she was.
We all headed down the church steps. She was still a step or two ahead of me, tripping over herself to get away. She tried to cut through the 48th street tunnel to Grand Central, but it was closed. B hung back and talked to me. I can only imagine that he was embarrassed about her anti-social behavior. I tried to soften it with small talk.
"So...are you on Spring Break now too?" I asked her.
"No." she said. "I had that last week."
"Was it fun?" I asked.
"No. It was depressing."
She said that in a way that just shot me down, as if to shut me up.
"Oh, that's too bad," I said. "Why?"
"There was nothing to do," came her response.
"At least you could probably catch up on work... or get ahead on work, right?" I smiled.
"No." she said flatly.
Finally, when we got to my street, I had to turn off. She didn't even pause for a second to let me say goodbye to them. I'm not used to such anti-social behavior. I didn't even know how to react. It made me feel horrible-- that someone would want so badly to get away from me when I've been doing my best to put my feelings aside and befriend her.
"Happy Easter!" I called after them as they shuffled away.
Back at my place, I went downstairs to hang out with NDN and his friend who was visiting from Argentina. (The same friend whose house we were at on New Year's Eve '05-'06). I invited Dan to come over as well and StarGazer. We ordered in Chinese food and watched part of a repeat of Saturday Night Live and even played a pretty lame round of "truth or dare."
Anyway, on Sunday I headed back to Long Island for Easter at Bro-in-Law's parents' house. It was a pretty standard holiday. The kids, D&D were running around being adorable. Bro-in-Laws cousins were there, as were my mom's sister and her husband and my grandpa. I had a good time until around 5:30 when I started to feel like shit.
I've been struggling with suicidal feelings a lot ever since I started to accept the end of things with Narc... feelings that are too hard to talk about. Don't worry... it's not anything too serious-- I mean-- they're just thoughts, but I have no impulse for suicidal action. But anyway, I started to get hit with a wave of that later in the evening. I told my mom I wanted to head back to the city and that I needed someone to drive me to the train. She said that it was too early to leave and that there was no one to drive me.
"Okay," I said.
And I went back to leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to make small talk with my Aunt. But I felt like I was going to vomit. And I felt such a mounting discomfort that I couldn't tolerate it. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to die. I wanted to get out of there. I don't know why or where the feeling came from. I just HAD to be back in my own element.
"Mom, I need to go NOW," I said.
I guess there must have been something in my eye that made her take me seriously because not two minutes later, we were in the car and on our way to the train station. And I burst into tears. I couldn't help it. I really just want to die. I feel like I am bottoming in sobriety and I simply don't know what to do about it.
Anyway, I don't want to get into all that.
The rest of the evening started to turn up. I had plans for Cherubino to come over and spend the night, and we couldn't have picked a more perfect night, given my state of mind.
She came by at around 9:00 with StarGazer and we all just hung out and talked and watched Rocky on DVD-- apparently one of my sponsor's favorite movies. At one point, NDN came up to meet my sponsor and he wanted me to meet BumbleBee, a new girl he's dating. He brought me a rose, just to win my sponsor's approval. Ha ha...
StarGazer left at around midnight, but Cherubino and I stayed up until around 2:00 just talking. It was really cool because I got to hear a lot more of her story and I got to open up to her about some of the things that are more difficult for me to talk about. I feel like we both got to know each other a lot better that night.
The next morning she came grocery shopping with me-- something that may seem simple to most of you, but I have a really hard time with it. We made a list together and went through each of the aisles and looked at labels and prices and made a plan. It was so nice of her to give me that time. I felt pretty good about it afterwards.
I didn't do much for the rest of Monday, except be pretty depressed. I'm glad I dragged myself out to my meditation meeting though... I got to see LashGirl there and Civyl, a newcomer I'm becoming friends with, and Leseco and some others, and it helped a little. I really couldn't focus though. I couldn't follow the speaker and I really couldn't meditate. It was alarming to me.
It wasn't until later that I realized I hadn't taken my antidepressants in three days because I was lazy about refilling the prescription. I'm hoping that some of the hopelessness I'm feeling will go away now that I'm back on them...
In any case, today was another pretty miserable (but strangely not miserable and sort of OK) day. I had lunch with B at Blockheads. He brought up the whole subject of Drippy and I was glad because I got to point out to him the way she behaved on Saturday (which he was already well aware of).
"I'm not saying she's a bad person," I said. "I know you love her. But I don't want to be treated like that by anybody. She says she wants to be my friend, but I'm not going to spend time with someone who can't be cordial to me."
B completely understands, but feels caught in the middle. I told him that this is really Drippy's problem and if she wants to bring her problem to me, BRING IT ON. I would have no issue sitting down with her one on one and letting her say everything to my face instead of burdening B with her irrational feelings and then having him come to me to try to fix the whole thing...
Ugh!
In any case, I went out this afternoon to do a little shopping. I had to buy a pair of black pants so that I have something to wear to my conference next weekend and then again in May for my anniversary night. I hate shopping. And I especially hate shopping now that I've put on so much weight. A year of eating chocolate may have kept me sober, but it did nothing for my waistline. I wish I hadn't gone shopping at all. I took a cab home and again found myself plotting my own death. Why does my mind keep wandering off in that direction! It's a little maddening. I don't want to think like that, but I can't help it...
Tonight I headed over to my meeting, the milk in tow. Again, I couldn't really focus much and definitely didn't want to be there, but I'm glad I went because I am committed to my meetings and I didn't let my negative feelings dictate my actions.
Now I'm home and here and trying to write something quickly before bed.
Tomorrow it's back to teaching for the first time in over a week. I'm getting observed. Yuck! I won't yet be acclimated to my 6:00 am wake-up time and I have to be evaluated!
Anyway, I also have a voice lesson tomorrow. That's one thing that has been going really well. I love it and I'm happy when I sing. A few other odds and ends-- my psychiatrist is talking to me about the possibility of hypnosis. He asked me to do some eye-rolling test and said that I am highly suggestible for hypnosis. Also, I made an appointment this week to see a diabetes specialist at Columbia Presbyterian. My insulin problems are kind of out of control. I feel like I am completely powerless over my body and everything is a mess. I've only gotten one period since January, and before that I was always very regular with that kind of thing. Add that to the rapid weight gain, the out of control mood swings and suicidal feelings... I feel trapped and like no one can figure out this whole biological chemical mess. But, I have to try to find help and at least get myself to the right people to help me...
On the Narc front, I've heard from him sporadically-- most recently today. But today I prompted it. I sent him a text (don't ask me why) and he wrote back. I just don't want to go into it right now, but it was a shit thing to do to myself. It left me feeling absolutely awful-- rejected, sick, horrible, nauseated, pining, helpless... Why did I do that to myself?
It's really fucking hard not to drink.
It's really fucking hard not to kill myself.
Tomorrow it's back to the grindstone.
love,
h
Friday, April 6, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Breaking Through
Spring is here... finally in a less "drippy" way. Today is actually a nice day to be outside. I met Dan this morning at the Museum of Modern Art where we took in an exhibit called "Comic Abstraction" and a retrospective of art by Jeff Wall. From there, we headed down to the East Village to a little Ramen Noodle Shop for lunch, over to Astor Place for some "bubble tea," and then parted ways.
I haven't been blogging as much lately because I don't particularly feel like reflecting. I'm still plowing through my Fourth Step the best I can and taking it one minute at a time.
Now that the Narc drama is for the most part done, the real fun can begin. A lot of older issues-- issues so deep that I can't and won't write about them online-- are starting to come up for me. I had a pretty difficult therapy session on Friday. Last night I went to my Aunt's house for Passover and it was strange-- as if I were feeling two things at once-- part of me felt good and positive and more honest than I've ever been with my family. Another piece of me felt separated and distant and misunderstood and hopeless. My entire family has "food issues" and it's sometimes hard to be around them at big food holidays. Even when there's not a word spoken, judgement can be passed.
I was in a decent mood on the train ride back, but once I got to my corner, I had a burning desire to drink. I didn't want to drink, per say, but I really wanted to "check out" more than anything. I felt intolerably depressed and desperate. I just felt trapped-- in my body, in my life... Things aren't the way I want them to be. It took a lot of praying to ground myself again-- to get myself to start to accept that I am not the one who gets to control the way things are.
So, instead of going for a drink, I crawled into bed (in an enormous cloud of gloom) and watched the series finale of Rome. I am so sad that it's over. I'm such a dork-- I bought a HUGE (4 ft x 6 ft) Mark Antony poster on EBay. I have no idea where the fuck I'm going to put it. NDN and Hammer both suggested that I hang it over my bed! Ha ha...
I've been to a lot of meetings this week and have made "friends" with some new-comers. I can't believe that I almost have a year! It's so nice to have that time and to be able to help people who are counting days. I met two women in particular at the Saturday morning meeting who I think will become regular friends. I saw them again on Saturday night and then one of them again at the Sunday night meeting.
Speaking of Sunday night-- there was kind of a strange incident. After the meeting, I went to the diner with a bunch of people from my group. A girl I didn't know came along and sat across from me. She was sullen and anti-social and while she was reading the menu she made some strange abstract singing/whining sounds. Then, suddenly, in a very flat voice, she looked to me.
"Do you have a cell phone?" she asked.
Her monotone disturbed me.
"Um, yeah..."
"Can I borrow it?"
"Um, sure..."
I lent her my phone. She set about writing a text message and held onto the phone for a good ten minutes. Then she got up from the table. I must have given her a strange look because she felt the need to explain.
"My backpack and my coat are still here," she said in the same monotone. "I'm not going to steal your phone."
"Oh, I know," I said, feigning assurance. "I just don't want you to take it outside. It's raining and it will get wet."
"I won't," she said.
Then she went into the vestibule. I could still see her through the glass. She was laughing and moving around strangely and pressing all sorts of buttons on the phone.
Of all people to be seated next to me, was Merlin. He started to laugh.
"I wouldn't give my phone out like that to anyone," he said.
"But she asked..."
I was starting to feel uncomfortable. The crazy girl stayed in the vestibule with my phone for a good 20 minutes until I could make eye-contact with her. Finally, she came back inside and continued to fiddle with the phone. I need to learn how to stick up for myself. It's amazing that I couldn't! Put a few drinks in me, and I would have had my phone back with some nasty comment in no time! But this is what I'm like sober? Strange...
Anyway, at some point, StarGazer and I wanted to go, so I stood up, put on my coat and mustered as much aggression as I could into my voice.
"Can I have my phone back? I have to go."
She half-ignored me, giving me a sullen nod.
"No, really... I need my phone back. I'm leaving."
"Okay, fine... Just let me finish writing my friend this address."
By the time I got it back, she must have had it for at least 45 minutes. StarGazer and I got into a cab together, of course, jumping to see what she had done with the phone.
It was the strangest thing... that whole time she wrote some long nonsensical text message and had recorded a sound-clip of herself singing some long whiny song. That's what she was doing the whole time in the vestibule!
The bottom line-- the fellowship in AA is great, but sometimes you end up eating with, talking with and giving your number to the kind of crazy people that you would normally cross the street to avoid. It's hard to know how high to keep your defenses in a situation like that. But I learned my lesson-- I have to have harder edges.
Anyway, after that, I hung out with NDN, watching Sarah Silverman's Jesus is Magic and eating stale popcorn.
I guess that's basically it for now. I'm afraid if I write any longer, I'm going to have to delve into my internal thoughts and most of those are about self-loathing, or missing Narc, or fear... I do miss him terribly, but I suppose it's going to take a while.
Hope you are all well out in the blog-o-sphere.
Love,
h
PS: I decided I'm too lazy to get my hair done this week, and as I'm do for a color boost, I'm doing it myself. As I write, I've got the dye on my head. Ha ha....
I haven't been blogging as much lately because I don't particularly feel like reflecting. I'm still plowing through my Fourth Step the best I can and taking it one minute at a time.
Now that the Narc drama is for the most part done, the real fun can begin. A lot of older issues-- issues so deep that I can't and won't write about them online-- are starting to come up for me. I had a pretty difficult therapy session on Friday. Last night I went to my Aunt's house for Passover and it was strange-- as if I were feeling two things at once-- part of me felt good and positive and more honest than I've ever been with my family. Another piece of me felt separated and distant and misunderstood and hopeless. My entire family has "food issues" and it's sometimes hard to be around them at big food holidays. Even when there's not a word spoken, judgement can be passed.
I was in a decent mood on the train ride back, but once I got to my corner, I had a burning desire to drink. I didn't want to drink, per say, but I really wanted to "check out" more than anything. I felt intolerably depressed and desperate. I just felt trapped-- in my body, in my life... Things aren't the way I want them to be. It took a lot of praying to ground myself again-- to get myself to start to accept that I am not the one who gets to control the way things are.
So, instead of going for a drink, I crawled into bed (in an enormous cloud of gloom) and watched the series finale of Rome. I am so sad that it's over. I'm such a dork-- I bought a HUGE (4 ft x 6 ft) Mark Antony poster on EBay. I have no idea where the fuck I'm going to put it. NDN and Hammer both suggested that I hang it over my bed! Ha ha...
I've been to a lot of meetings this week and have made "friends" with some new-comers. I can't believe that I almost have a year! It's so nice to have that time and to be able to help people who are counting days. I met two women in particular at the Saturday morning meeting who I think will become regular friends. I saw them again on Saturday night and then one of them again at the Sunday night meeting.
Speaking of Sunday night-- there was kind of a strange incident. After the meeting, I went to the diner with a bunch of people from my group. A girl I didn't know came along and sat across from me. She was sullen and anti-social and while she was reading the menu she made some strange abstract singing/whining sounds. Then, suddenly, in a very flat voice, she looked to me.
"Do you have a cell phone?" she asked.
Her monotone disturbed me.
"Um, yeah..."
"Can I borrow it?"
"Um, sure..."
I lent her my phone. She set about writing a text message and held onto the phone for a good ten minutes. Then she got up from the table. I must have given her a strange look because she felt the need to explain.
"My backpack and my coat are still here," she said in the same monotone. "I'm not going to steal your phone."
"Oh, I know," I said, feigning assurance. "I just don't want you to take it outside. It's raining and it will get wet."
"I won't," she said.
Then she went into the vestibule. I could still see her through the glass. She was laughing and moving around strangely and pressing all sorts of buttons on the phone.
Of all people to be seated next to me, was Merlin. He started to laugh.
"I wouldn't give my phone out like that to anyone," he said.
"But she asked..."
I was starting to feel uncomfortable. The crazy girl stayed in the vestibule with my phone for a good 20 minutes until I could make eye-contact with her. Finally, she came back inside and continued to fiddle with the phone. I need to learn how to stick up for myself. It's amazing that I couldn't! Put a few drinks in me, and I would have had my phone back with some nasty comment in no time! But this is what I'm like sober? Strange...
Anyway, at some point, StarGazer and I wanted to go, so I stood up, put on my coat and mustered as much aggression as I could into my voice.
"Can I have my phone back? I have to go."
She half-ignored me, giving me a sullen nod.
"No, really... I need my phone back. I'm leaving."
"Okay, fine... Just let me finish writing my friend this address."
By the time I got it back, she must have had it for at least 45 minutes. StarGazer and I got into a cab together, of course, jumping to see what she had done with the phone.
It was the strangest thing... that whole time she wrote some long nonsensical text message and had recorded a sound-clip of herself singing some long whiny song. That's what she was doing the whole time in the vestibule!
The bottom line-- the fellowship in AA is great, but sometimes you end up eating with, talking with and giving your number to the kind of crazy people that you would normally cross the street to avoid. It's hard to know how high to keep your defenses in a situation like that. But I learned my lesson-- I have to have harder edges.
Anyway, after that, I hung out with NDN, watching Sarah Silverman's Jesus is Magic and eating stale popcorn.
I guess that's basically it for now. I'm afraid if I write any longer, I'm going to have to delve into my internal thoughts and most of those are about self-loathing, or missing Narc, or fear... I do miss him terribly, but I suppose it's going to take a while.
Hope you are all well out in the blog-o-sphere.
Love,
h
PS: I decided I'm too lazy to get my hair done this week, and as I'm do for a color boost, I'm doing it myself. As I write, I've got the dye on my head. Ha ha....
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