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
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
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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