Today was Pee Day. My dog christened it by peeing all over the back porch stairs (that don't get rained on so I had to clean them on my hands and knees, which was just awesome for my dizzy bullshit). I then spent the day peeing into a jug and cleaning my hellaciously messy life and feeling like crap and sleeping. It started raining this evening, so that may have contributed to why I felt so awful all day, but it made cleaning the house harder. Still, I almost completely unearthed the futon in my office/spare bedroom/world's biggest closet; I just have to figure out what I'm doing with all of the alphabet blocks still spread out in order across the bedspread. Then there's the rest of the room, which is coming along (I found a good chunk of the floor) but remains more closet than living space. We're having a condo-wide yard sale on the 29th and it would be so much more convenient if it were, say, last weekend and all the extra shit in my life already disappeared, replaced by money, but no such luck. Instead, I have to try to clean with the sale in mind, organizing things enough that next week is somewhat easier and I don't spend the entire time trying to re-sort everything all over again.
I looked up the weather for the wedding and it's going to be a high of 60 degrees. This means I have to figure out my coat options, which should be no big deal but at the moment feels like one. more. thing. I'm way too nervous about this wedding, or, more accurately, seeing people at this wedding. I don't know how I'm going to get along with the people I haven't spoken to in years who were once my closest friends, and it terrifies me. They used to mean so much and I'm not sure how to take our relationships, past or present, and I'm trying to be as optimistic about it as possible but now that I can't just get shitfaced and have everyone declare everything happy and fine (since I still can't drink) I'm not sure anymore how I most hope things will turn out (a sober mutual declaration of "All is forgiven, all bad is forgotten, we're cool" is a hell of a lot harder and less socially acceptable somehow), I'm not sure what the best possible outcome would be. Without knowing what to wish for, I have trouble calming myself down with optimistic happy thoughts. But the wedding itself should be my happy thought. My friend who's getting married deserves to be happy so. much. And I'm now driving up with Birdie, which means two hours of quality Birdie time I didn't think I'd have. That's a big happy thought. I'm just being Captain Negativity and dwelling on the parts that have me freaked out. I just don't know what people will think when they see me 20 lbs heavier, the only one single, and half-broken by migraines with some new weird malady that's got me peeing in jugs. At least I haven't lost my sense of humor. Or my depression. I had that when I knew them, and they loved me then. I have lost the chip on my shoulder, but I think I could use it right about now because it was a nice protective coating. Still, I have to remember that it's not like this weekend is about me anyway and everybody will be coming with their own shit, too. Maybe we're all fat now. Is it terrible that I kind of hope The Former Boy is fat? I do. I really do.
Enough rambling about that.
It's a little funny that I'm going to a wedding considering I spent Friday wanting to jump a married man. We're friends and we have a really fantastic time together, but he's married so my crushing is useless. Why do I torture myself?
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Monday, September 17, 2012
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Dual Citizenship
September, my head was so good. I had days and days of zero headache. Zero. And almost every day the pain was at least tolerable enough to function.
At first, I freaked out. I was so desperate to cram in everything I don't get to do when I'm a blob. I worked my tail off and felt like it wasn't good enough, like I wasn't getting enough done, like there was so much more to do and any moment I wasn't doing something visibly productive was a waste of my precious healthy time.
Then there were my friends. When the migraines are bad, I have trouble maintaining friendships. I have to cancel plans all the time and then we stop making plans. I can do things spontaneously, but few other people are available at my healthy whims. Then when we do get together, what do I have to talk about? My life is fairly limited, and if you don't find my present occupation or the ethereal and observational shit I like to spew interesting, I will bore you. Illness is incredibly isolating, and with a healthy dose of narcissism (I'm a writer, for fuck's sake), the Bad Days go by as all about me. My pain. My struggle. Pain is loud and makes me strongly aware of myself, everything else just background and things that might add or detract from pain. I'm like an infant, entirely corporal and needy. I kick and scream at pain, hunger, loneliness, frustration, and when these base things are quieted I marvel at my own two feet and the way light and color exist in and out of my dreams.
When September was good, I barely started relearning how to go out and be outside of myself, try to rediscover those friendships I care about. I went out to dinner with Possible Girl. I went back to the bar. I went to a party. Just getting my feet wet.
My neurologist says that my brain thinks pain is very important. We find something new to confuse it for as along as possible but it's trying to get back to the pain. When it finds it again, we go to something new. I like him better than the migraine clinic. The clinic is more aggressive, which was great short-term, but now that they've kind of blown their wad, he still has lots of ideas and worries about things like my long-term health and if my medications are killing my kidneys. But the point is, we'll keep working on finding things to trick my brain and keep getting chunks of time without pain. And each chunk of time I'm not in pain, I'll keep learning how to live a double life. And maybe I can take some of my this-is-just-how-it-is migraine-life acceptance into the bright places, and maybe I can take some of my human contacts and friends with me back into the dark.
Because October, thus far, sucked. I've gotten some good days. But more than half the days have been bad with some really bad. Today was particularly rotten with light and sound kicking my ass and logic evading me at every corner. When I curl up into myself, I want it to be about someone else for a change. I've had enough of me. I'm reading, looking for contact on the internet, but obviously it's not the same. I may call a friend tonight and deal with the pain of mechanised cell phone sound. Tell me a story of you.
At first, I freaked out. I was so desperate to cram in everything I don't get to do when I'm a blob. I worked my tail off and felt like it wasn't good enough, like I wasn't getting enough done, like there was so much more to do and any moment I wasn't doing something visibly productive was a waste of my precious healthy time.
Then there were my friends. When the migraines are bad, I have trouble maintaining friendships. I have to cancel plans all the time and then we stop making plans. I can do things spontaneously, but few other people are available at my healthy whims. Then when we do get together, what do I have to talk about? My life is fairly limited, and if you don't find my present occupation or the ethereal and observational shit I like to spew interesting, I will bore you. Illness is incredibly isolating, and with a healthy dose of narcissism (I'm a writer, for fuck's sake), the Bad Days go by as all about me. My pain. My struggle. Pain is loud and makes me strongly aware of myself, everything else just background and things that might add or detract from pain. I'm like an infant, entirely corporal and needy. I kick and scream at pain, hunger, loneliness, frustration, and when these base things are quieted I marvel at my own two feet and the way light and color exist in and out of my dreams.
When September was good, I barely started relearning how to go out and be outside of myself, try to rediscover those friendships I care about. I went out to dinner with Possible Girl. I went back to the bar. I went to a party. Just getting my feet wet.
My neurologist says that my brain thinks pain is very important. We find something new to confuse it for as along as possible but it's trying to get back to the pain. When it finds it again, we go to something new. I like him better than the migraine clinic. The clinic is more aggressive, which was great short-term, but now that they've kind of blown their wad, he still has lots of ideas and worries about things like my long-term health and if my medications are killing my kidneys. But the point is, we'll keep working on finding things to trick my brain and keep getting chunks of time without pain. And each chunk of time I'm not in pain, I'll keep learning how to live a double life. And maybe I can take some of my this-is-just-how-it-is migraine-life acceptance into the bright places, and maybe I can take some of my human contacts and friends with me back into the dark.
Because October, thus far, sucked. I've gotten some good days. But more than half the days have been bad with some really bad. Today was particularly rotten with light and sound kicking my ass and logic evading me at every corner. When I curl up into myself, I want it to be about someone else for a change. I've had enough of me. I'm reading, looking for contact on the internet, but obviously it's not the same. I may call a friend tonight and deal with the pain of mechanised cell phone sound. Tell me a story of you.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sun Ray Sting Ray
It's beautiful out. I tried to help pack the car and the sun stabbed me in the eyeballs. I was and still am wearing my giant sunglasses. I came back in and still felt it piercing all the way through the inside of my skull. I couldn't complete a sentence. I still feel it. I want to hold on until HDS leaves. Then it will be silent again and I can bury my head in my pillow and my dog can curl up in any room he wants. I will have as long as I need to be alone; this is my human contact time and the end of my HDS time and my chance to soak it up, pain or not.
If I still feel like this tomorrow, maybe I'll go to the migraine clinic for extra shots. Too many days of really bad.
Whine whine whine.
If I still feel like this tomorrow, maybe I'll go to the migraine clinic for extra shots. Too many days of really bad.
Whine whine whine.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Pad My Walls
I've got the crazies tonight. The pain was mostly gone today, but all the other fucked up shit diminutively classified as "aura" rendered me insane. It's so strange that when I get like this I can write. I can do a number of other random things quite well, too. Hopefully tomorrow I won't discover that I destroyed, offended, or bankrupted anyone, but I think I got a lot of work done. Walking the dog, I was ready to chainsaw the trees after 30 seconds of the cicadas. I hate the fucking cicadas. Crickets chirp; cicadas scream like electronics, but they ebb and swell so you can't forget they're there, vibrating at the frequency of your skull.
So I thought I was hungry. I'd been munching snap peas all afternoon, but perhaps red meat would cure my homicidal crankiness. I browned ground beef, planning to add one of the Trader Joe's Indian eggplant pouch things as an instant, no-thought sauce, but then I found a can of ranchero something soup with a recipe that sounded good and we had all the ingredients. So instead of three minutes and my nice fake Indian weird beef thing, it was 30 minutes for my fake Mexican weird beef thing. When it was done, I opened the oven and grabbed at the metal without thinking--no oven mitt. I can write but I can't use a stove.
Oven hot. No touch. Four-year-olds understand this. I'm alternating typing and icing my pointer finger.
Possible Boy and I had talked about seeing a movie tonight. At some point this afternoon I considered inviting him over to watch a movie, or doing some quiet but still social activity with him. Then I stand up and everything is wooziness and I try doing basic household crap and realize how scary I look. I don't want to hide all the time and only see friends when I'm glowing, but the bad stuff is easier to ride out quietly at home where I don't have to consider the variables. I'm not sure how to maintain friendships this way, but tonight I'm curled up afraid of myself and still trying to figure out how to get back to my parents' house to help out as soon as possible.
Cancer trumps migraine. Cancer kills.
So I thought I was hungry. I'd been munching snap peas all afternoon, but perhaps red meat would cure my homicidal crankiness. I browned ground beef, planning to add one of the Trader Joe's Indian eggplant pouch things as an instant, no-thought sauce, but then I found a can of ranchero something soup with a recipe that sounded good and we had all the ingredients. So instead of three minutes and my nice fake Indian weird beef thing, it was 30 minutes for my fake Mexican weird beef thing. When it was done, I opened the oven and grabbed at the metal without thinking--no oven mitt. I can write but I can't use a stove.
Oven hot. No touch. Four-year-olds understand this. I'm alternating typing and icing my pointer finger.
Possible Boy and I had talked about seeing a movie tonight. At some point this afternoon I considered inviting him over to watch a movie, or doing some quiet but still social activity with him. Then I stand up and everything is wooziness and I try doing basic household crap and realize how scary I look. I don't want to hide all the time and only see friends when I'm glowing, but the bad stuff is easier to ride out quietly at home where I don't have to consider the variables. I'm not sure how to maintain friendships this way, but tonight I'm curled up afraid of myself and still trying to figure out how to get back to my parents' house to help out as soon as possible.
Cancer trumps migraine. Cancer kills.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Inpatience
It's amazing that last post reads so coherent. I felt like I was in pieces, like I shouldn't have been able to type the words.
Now, I'm in a hospital bed with an IV aching on my left hand.
I've been so ambivalent about this whole inpatient thing because this is somehow the big huge next step overhaul in migraine treatment options and it feels like more of the same: more throwing curious chemicals at a problem we don't understand. The drugs they're giving me to break up my current headache cycle aren't even anything new; they're the exact same thing dripped into me five years ago in Cleveland with limited success.
I feel so down and negative right now. It's a universe of infinite possibility and potential. I'm trying to concentrate on the shiny happy things, but it feels like all my shiny happy places are currently imaginary. Still way better than feeling like shiny happy places will never exist, but at the moment I can't see them in a touchable way.
I see the beautiful moon and amazing view from my hospital window. I see tubes and informational bracelets and "mid-century furnishings."
I had one friend (Possible Boy) drive me to the doctor's office, the bank, and the hospital, and stay with me through all the waiting and my frazzled uncertainty, until hours later I had a room and internet and gratitude I'm never sure how to show.
I have another friend (HDS) who is not only walking and feeding my dog but also sent me a picture of him adorably accepting her surrogate love.
These are my shiny happy and these are real. I feel like I'm covered in muck and can't be a part of them. They are a part of me, I know, but I am a part of them, too.
I want this dark cloud off of me and the only way out is to realize it's not actually there.
My parents came by to visit tonight. They showed up just after visiting hours ended. I was still glad to see them.
Now, I'm in a hospital bed with an IV aching on my left hand.
I've been so ambivalent about this whole inpatient thing because this is somehow the big huge next step overhaul in migraine treatment options and it feels like more of the same: more throwing curious chemicals at a problem we don't understand. The drugs they're giving me to break up my current headache cycle aren't even anything new; they're the exact same thing dripped into me five years ago in Cleveland with limited success.
I feel so down and negative right now. It's a universe of infinite possibility and potential. I'm trying to concentrate on the shiny happy things, but it feels like all my shiny happy places are currently imaginary. Still way better than feeling like shiny happy places will never exist, but at the moment I can't see them in a touchable way.
I see the beautiful moon and amazing view from my hospital window. I see tubes and informational bracelets and "mid-century furnishings."
I had one friend (Possible Boy) drive me to the doctor's office, the bank, and the hospital, and stay with me through all the waiting and my frazzled uncertainty, until hours later I had a room and internet and gratitude I'm never sure how to show.
I have another friend (HDS) who is not only walking and feeding my dog but also sent me a picture of him adorably accepting her surrogate love.
These are my shiny happy and these are real. I feel like I'm covered in muck and can't be a part of them. They are a part of me, I know, but I am a part of them, too.
I want this dark cloud off of me and the only way out is to realize it's not actually there.
My parents came by to visit tonight. They showed up just after visiting hours ended. I was still glad to see them.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Decisions, Stress
I leave for Santa Barbara tomorrow morning.
There are things I wanted to do before I left.
I cannot do all of them.
I absolutely have to go to the DMV and renew my drivers license, which apparently expired on my birthday.
I absolutely have to pack.
I absolutely have to shower.
Just shy of absolutely, I have to photograph as many items as possible and upload them to my computer. Every time I go to take photos of something, I want to scream. Even the things I thought would be super-quick shots need to be cleaned or don't sit straight or something else killing the super-easy. And now that I know how to find all kinds of information on any given item, I feel much more obligated to keep digging until I have at least the manufacturer and time period. So no more instant gratification, and I've spent the last two weeks pushing pushing pushing without taking a breath, stoking my anxiety fire.
Not absolutely but I really wanted to, I was going to go to a movie with Possible Boy this afternoon. I haven't hung out with him or Aural Girl in ages and his school year is over now so he's a bundle of free time. Last night, "everyone" was at the bar watching the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup, but HDS was cooking really fabulous dinner and she's still far from ready to plunge into the bar, no matter how tame it is. By the time dinner was over, so was the game and I was back to stressing.
But somewhere in the "watching the game at the bar" was an invitation to today's movie watching, and in my last night thinking, going to a movie today would be an excellent break from the crazy, a reunion with the last time I blinked and a person I'd like to see.
Now it's already after 2 PM and my body is begging to lay down again. I don't want to cancel movie time. I don't want to feel like I've let someone down or messed up his plans for the day. I already blew off Neighbor Guy who called with boy troubles and really wanted to hang out and talk, my mother when she called with one of her non-reasons, and my dog by cutting his morning walk to bad-weather length. I know I have to call Possible Boy and say no movie. I know writing this instead of using these minutes on one of the time-requesting entities is extremely narcissistic, but I have to consider this a case of putting on my own oxygen mask first before assisting others.
See? Starting to breathe better already.
There are things I wanted to do before I left.
I cannot do all of them.
I absolutely have to go to the DMV and renew my drivers license, which apparently expired on my birthday.
I absolutely have to pack.
I absolutely have to shower.
Just shy of absolutely, I have to photograph as many items as possible and upload them to my computer. Every time I go to take photos of something, I want to scream. Even the things I thought would be super-quick shots need to be cleaned or don't sit straight or something else killing the super-easy. And now that I know how to find all kinds of information on any given item, I feel much more obligated to keep digging until I have at least the manufacturer and time period. So no more instant gratification, and I've spent the last two weeks pushing pushing pushing without taking a breath, stoking my anxiety fire.
Not absolutely but I really wanted to, I was going to go to a movie with Possible Boy this afternoon. I haven't hung out with him or Aural Girl in ages and his school year is over now so he's a bundle of free time. Last night, "everyone" was at the bar watching the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup, but HDS was cooking really fabulous dinner and she's still far from ready to plunge into the bar, no matter how tame it is. By the time dinner was over, so was the game and I was back to stressing.
But somewhere in the "watching the game at the bar" was an invitation to today's movie watching, and in my last night thinking, going to a movie today would be an excellent break from the crazy, a reunion with the last time I blinked and a person I'd like to see.
Now it's already after 2 PM and my body is begging to lay down again. I don't want to cancel movie time. I don't want to feel like I've let someone down or messed up his plans for the day. I already blew off Neighbor Guy who called with boy troubles and really wanted to hang out and talk, my mother when she called with one of her non-reasons, and my dog by cutting his morning walk to bad-weather length. I know I have to call Possible Boy and say no movie. I know writing this instead of using these minutes on one of the time-requesting entities is extremely narcissistic, but I have to consider this a case of putting on my own oxygen mask first before assisting others.
See? Starting to breathe better already.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
State of the Onion
Thursday was my birthday. I'm 28. The last several years I've been having trouble remembering how old I am; each birthday I'm not sure if it's that birthday or the next one. This year, I know I'm 28. It means very little, but it's comforting.
I'm still feeling like crap a lot. Still having good days, too. Good parts of days, bad parts of days. For awhile I was working and sleeping like a normal person, up and down with the sun and churning out fairly regular accomplishments without much regulation. Then it thunderstormed and I slept 15 hours and haven't gotten back on track since.
Today hurts like it should rain again. I didn't expect to spend much time with my friends on my Thursday of a birthday, but another weekend alone in the dark and quiet sucks. I feel so out of touch, seeing the people I'm closest to feels like dropping in on the lives of vague acquaintances.
Well fuck now I'm sulky teary. Maybe letting it rain from my eyeballs will relieve some of the pressure I can't control in the greater atmosphere.
I'm still feeling like crap a lot. Still having good days, too. Good parts of days, bad parts of days. For awhile I was working and sleeping like a normal person, up and down with the sun and churning out fairly regular accomplishments without much regulation. Then it thunderstormed and I slept 15 hours and haven't gotten back on track since.
Today hurts like it should rain again. I didn't expect to spend much time with my friends on my Thursday of a birthday, but another weekend alone in the dark and quiet sucks. I feel so out of touch, seeing the people I'm closest to feels like dropping in on the lives of vague acquaintances.
Well fuck now I'm sulky teary. Maybe letting it rain from my eyeballs will relieve some of the pressure I can't control in the greater atmosphere.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Spiky
Sooooooooooooooo...
I've been up since 6:30 AM and I've been doing stuff the entire time. Cleaning and laundry and shopping for May gift-getters and at around 10 AM I was going to take a nap so I could get back to a normalish sleep schedule but then I wanted to sweep every possible surface before I took a nap so I could mop after my nap and then it was noon and the pain showed up and I hadn't taken my pills yet and I needed to eat and while I was eating I started doing stuff on Etsy and putting together pretty collections of possible gifts and then it was the afternoon and I had to do the one project I absolutely had to do today and then my psychiatrist called to say he actually had gotten the lab results fax and my nortriptyline levels were high (duh shit, this is why I'm crashing most days when the sun sets and in a content but shaky stupor during my awake times). At some point I blinked and it was 6 PM. I made dinner. Now it's approaching 9 and I'm still quite alert, unshowered, and need to go to Walgreens to get my new lower-dose prescription nortriptyline before it closes or I go to bed, whichever comes first. Before I can go to Walgreens (3 blocks away) I have to drive to put air in my tire (1.5 blocks away) which has been soft since before the last time I drove, two weeks ago. Tomorrow morning at 9 AM I intend to be at a demolition sale in Park Ridge. I may be a little bonkers, but it's an easy drive.
Oh, good, it's raining. I'm being 50% sarcastic. Good for my head, bad for walking to get the car and then finding the car a new parking space. And that whole putting air in the tires thing. Maybe I'll get up tomorrow at 6:30 again.
The rest of my week has been a blur; everything feels blurry. I haven't seen Aural Girl in some ridiculous amount of time.
>>Insert note: thunder and lightning outside, so my dog has to be touching me: my legs are crossed and he's resting his head on my elevated foot.<<
I only saw Possible Boy last Sunday for grocery shopping. And I feel like I haven't seen anybody, including myself, in ages. I've seen My Twin (new official code name for friend from junior high and high school with whom I'd lost touch and now we just started meeting up weekly downtown) but in my dreams I frequently see people from my past so something about it feels surreal. It's wonderful, but surreal. We used to say we were twins back in high school because we'd say the same thing or think the same thing all the time. People used to say we looked alike, and we had similar builds, but I'm blonde and pasty white while My Twin is deep mocha African-American and uses her hair an art medium. Still, we held ourselves the same (despite her dance background) and had the same speech patterns and we fed off eachother like Hall and Oates or something. Then we went our separate ways, I thought I'd failed her by being too young and self-involved...Ten years later, we've both changed and grown up and gone through a lot, and the same stuff that made us "twins" as kids seems to have ripened into an older but just as twinny version. I go around collecting people I like and identify with; My Twin was a cornerstone of my collection.
And then I got snippy over the use of the word "meta."
On most tv shows, characters go through some trial or tribulation and learn some life lesson, but things have to be set back pretty much to zero by the end of the episode so that you don't have to worry about the continuity and congruence of the episodes. I think I'm a little like this, too. I was reading through posts from last summer to see if I'd already given My Twin a code name, and it's the exact same thing day after day. Posts individually may seem like they mean something or are going somewhere or like perhaps I've really learned my lesson this time, but the accumulation is no more than pencil shavings, and I'm not using a pencil.
Life is so weird. Place your bets now on whether or not I'll make it to the demolition sale tomorrow, if I'll make it to any other sales, and who will go with me. I'm giving 5-to-1 odds I'll have a male or no companion. Who knows a bookie?
I've been up since 6:30 AM and I've been doing stuff the entire time. Cleaning and laundry and shopping for May gift-getters and at around 10 AM I was going to take a nap so I could get back to a normalish sleep schedule but then I wanted to sweep every possible surface before I took a nap so I could mop after my nap and then it was noon and the pain showed up and I hadn't taken my pills yet and I needed to eat and while I was eating I started doing stuff on Etsy and putting together pretty collections of possible gifts and then it was the afternoon and I had to do the one project I absolutely had to do today and then my psychiatrist called to say he actually had gotten the lab results fax and my nortriptyline levels were high (duh shit, this is why I'm crashing most days when the sun sets and in a content but shaky stupor during my awake times). At some point I blinked and it was 6 PM. I made dinner. Now it's approaching 9 and I'm still quite alert, unshowered, and need to go to Walgreens to get my new lower-dose prescription nortriptyline before it closes or I go to bed, whichever comes first. Before I can go to Walgreens (3 blocks away) I have to drive to put air in my tire (1.5 blocks away) which has been soft since before the last time I drove, two weeks ago. Tomorrow morning at 9 AM I intend to be at a demolition sale in Park Ridge. I may be a little bonkers, but it's an easy drive.
Oh, good, it's raining. I'm being 50% sarcastic. Good for my head, bad for walking to get the car and then finding the car a new parking space. And that whole putting air in the tires thing. Maybe I'll get up tomorrow at 6:30 again.
The rest of my week has been a blur; everything feels blurry. I haven't seen Aural Girl in some ridiculous amount of time.
>>Insert note: thunder and lightning outside, so my dog has to be touching me: my legs are crossed and he's resting his head on my elevated foot.<<
I only saw Possible Boy last Sunday for grocery shopping. And I feel like I haven't seen anybody, including myself, in ages. I've seen My Twin (new official code name for friend from junior high and high school with whom I'd lost touch and now we just started meeting up weekly downtown) but in my dreams I frequently see people from my past so something about it feels surreal. It's wonderful, but surreal. We used to say we were twins back in high school because we'd say the same thing or think the same thing all the time. People used to say we looked alike, and we had similar builds, but I'm blonde and pasty white while My Twin is deep mocha African-American and uses her hair an art medium. Still, we held ourselves the same (despite her dance background) and had the same speech patterns and we fed off eachother like Hall and Oates or something. Then we went our separate ways, I thought I'd failed her by being too young and self-involved...Ten years later, we've both changed and grown up and gone through a lot, and the same stuff that made us "twins" as kids seems to have ripened into an older but just as twinny version. I go around collecting people I like and identify with; My Twin was a cornerstone of my collection.
And then I got snippy over the use of the word "meta."
On most tv shows, characters go through some trial or tribulation and learn some life lesson, but things have to be set back pretty much to zero by the end of the episode so that you don't have to worry about the continuity and congruence of the episodes. I think I'm a little like this, too. I was reading through posts from last summer to see if I'd already given My Twin a code name, and it's the exact same thing day after day. Posts individually may seem like they mean something or are going somewhere or like perhaps I've really learned my lesson this time, but the accumulation is no more than pencil shavings, and I'm not using a pencil.
Life is so weird. Place your bets now on whether or not I'll make it to the demolition sale tomorrow, if I'll make it to any other sales, and who will go with me. I'm giving 5-to-1 odds I'll have a male or no companion. Who knows a bookie?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
An Avocado with Parkinson's
Bad shakes. Shakes on the inside, too. I still went to the barbecue held in honor of Neighbor Guy's birthday. No booze, wonderful food, and just NG's best friend, best friend's boyfriend, Possible Boy, Aural Girl, and myself. I was in no shape or position to pull on NG's demons, but I guess I was in no shape to realize that, either. Still, nothing happened, no plunging off on any emotion. I wanted to walk home with NG, but I was too shaky just washing the pie pan I brought, so PB and AG drove me to Walgreens and home. They were very quiet in the car, and I felt like there was something they wanted to say but stopped themselves from saying in front of me. Commentary on NG? Commentary on my dealing with NG? Commentary on how they've never seen me this bad?
The last few days I've been more outwardly sickly. I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday so I haven't bothered calling to say "Bad things are flaring, what drug do you want me on now? More of something? Less of something?" I think the pills are burning holes in my digestive system. The upside to my migraine's latest manifestation is that for once I actually look sick; my friends don't have to ask me how I'm feeling, and the rest of the world is less inclined to expect me in the usual flow of things.
AG is coming over tomorrow to help me clean my house. My mom keeps offering to come out on a Monday and I was ready to call her because I knew I needed the assistance, but I really didn't want to deal with any of the other stuff that comes with my mother especially when I'm not doing well. A year ago, my mom was my only option. Now, I have local friends who are all happy to do anything for eachother.
My life is a really great avocado with a few rotten spots.
The last few days I've been more outwardly sickly. I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday so I haven't bothered calling to say "Bad things are flaring, what drug do you want me on now? More of something? Less of something?" I think the pills are burning holes in my digestive system. The upside to my migraine's latest manifestation is that for once I actually look sick; my friends don't have to ask me how I'm feeling, and the rest of the world is less inclined to expect me in the usual flow of things.
AG is coming over tomorrow to help me clean my house. My mom keeps offering to come out on a Monday and I was ready to call her because I knew I needed the assistance, but I really didn't want to deal with any of the other stuff that comes with my mother especially when I'm not doing well. A year ago, my mom was my only option. Now, I have local friends who are all happy to do anything for eachother.
My life is a really great avocado with a few rotten spots.
Happy Birthday Neighbor Guy, Deleted
I wrote a 1, 712 word post about today. I went to Cambodian New Year and three garage sales with Neighbor Guy. We had fun. Writing about it was a word-purge that took an hour or two. Minutes after I posted it, Neighbor Guy called. Drunk. And of the many things he said, the only one I can repeat is that he didn't want me telling anyone about anything he said today.
I'm not a journalist, I don't use real names, but there are people who know or will meet Neighbor Guy who also read this blog, and I would feel guilty if I didn't remove the post.
The only safe paragraph:
I'm not a journalist, I don't use real names, but there are people who know or will meet Neighbor Guy who also read this blog, and I would feel guilty if I didn't remove the post.
The only safe paragraph:
Cambodian New Year was too big an event for the temple itself, so it was held at the nearby city college. We walked in to parents with young kids and fussy babies out in the hallway; huge tables filled with Styrofoam bowls of noodles and curries and desserts and things don't translate; and monotone call-and-response chanting over a microphone. The two monks wrapped in orange sat on the raised platform with the whole room facing them, but I saw they didn't have the microphones. Two of the genuflectors at the front, dressed in white and posturing a bit higher on their knees, lead the chants.Maybe someday things will change and I'll post the rest.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Friends and Taxes
Very late. Very tired. I need to change the way I do my accounting so next year's taxes won't be Adventures in Approximationland. I could be deducting way more than I am, but if I don't find any 2009 repair reports on my car's mileage by the time I take my pills tomorrow, fuck it. Not sure if that's the socialist or the motherfuckinglazy in me, but either way.
___ and I met up downtown at the Art Institute this afternoon. We're going to try to make it a regular thing, since she lives in Berwyn and we never see eachother. We understand eachother's weird shit. We're made out of the same shit. The universe is an amazing place.
___ and I met up downtown at the Art Institute this afternoon. We're going to try to make it a regular thing, since she lives in Berwyn and we never see eachother. We understand eachother's weird shit. We're made out of the same shit. The universe is an amazing place.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
moblogged from Kingston Mines
Its a good thing im feeling well & enjoying unbelievably good music. Not wasting my time on drama or misalignment. Im here & theres plenty of wonderful.
Addendum: 1:08 AM. Home now. AG was tired and a bit fussy tonight, mostly at PB. Why do I feel like "Mom, Dad, I hate it when you fight," and the impulse to "fix" every recognizable hurt and sadness I think I see on PB's face? When did my protective side show up? I don't want it to be a narcisistic protective side--my mom does that a lot and I have, too, in the past.
Um, I had two drinks and I feel like I'm writing with rocks for brains.
Also, I made fairly clear but not particularly intense genstures in Ken's direction that were well received. The world is full of maybe.
Addendum: 1:08 AM. Home now. AG was tired and a bit fussy tonight, mostly at PB. Why do I feel like "Mom, Dad, I hate it when you fight," and the impulse to "fix" every recognizable hurt and sadness I think I see on PB's face? When did my protective side show up? I don't want it to be a narcisistic protective side--my mom does that a lot and I have, too, in the past.
Um, I had two drinks and I feel like I'm writing with rocks for brains.
Also, I made fairly clear but not particularly intense genstures in Ken's direction that were well received. The world is full of maybe.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Take a Walk
Neighbor Guy called. We had a nice chat. Then he asked me to walk his dog. Neighbor Guy was too tired and lazy and didn't feel like it and really wanted me to take the dog to the dog park or something. Pissed me of a lot. He wants me to take care of his dog during one of the few precious moments I feel ok? I told him directly that I feel like shit most of the time and I still walk my dog and he can walk his own fucking dog on a day that he feels a little tired.
He said, jokingly, "I can't believe you used profanity with me!"
I asked if he understood why I didn't appreciate his request.
He said yes, I was very clear and direct.
Then he immediately started up again trying to get me to walk his dog.
I said "Fuck you."
We didn't talk much longer after that.
I'm aware the world revolves around Neighbor Guy, but even after I explained my feelings, his rude obliviousness was too much for me to swallow before lunch.
He said, jokingly, "I can't believe you used profanity with me!"
I asked if he understood why I didn't appreciate his request.
He said yes, I was very clear and direct.
Then he immediately started up again trying to get me to walk his dog.
I said "Fuck you."
We didn't talk much longer after that.
I'm aware the world revolves around Neighbor Guy, but even after I explained my feelings, his rude obliviousness was too much for me to swallow before lunch.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
No One Understands Me Like My Barometer
The fog inside my head spread out to cover Chicago.
I missed therapy this morning. First time I've completely missed a session. It sucks for my therapist because I know she'll often schedule me on a day when I'm the only reason she has to go to her office, but today even as I apologized I didn't feel my standard penitence and guilt. Wednesday we'll talk about ways to keep track of everything and remind myself and stay organized and all of that, but fuck that and fuck every well-intended coping mechanism. I've been poking around some of the other migraine/chronic pain blogs out there. All these things that make me feel crazy and worthless and alive and everything else get echoed across the internet. It's the stuff that makes it hard to take care of yourself when you most need to take care of yourself, the helplessness, the outlook adjustments, the assertions, and the thin shadow puppet "normal life" stories we project to distract and amuse ourselves. So I'm sorry to anyone I've inconvenienced with my disease, but try living with the uncontrollable monster that causes such "inconvenience," the guilt and frustration of constantly messing shit up, and the uncertainty as to whether or not anything you do has any kind of impact or if you're just being tossed around.
Some days I can cope with no control. Today was not one of those days.
Thank you, Aural Girl, for coming over and bringing me food and human contact. I don't think I even asked how her fucking trip was. She just did this huge thing. I was very lost and self-involved in fogland. The humus is delicious.
I missed therapy this morning. First time I've completely missed a session. It sucks for my therapist because I know she'll often schedule me on a day when I'm the only reason she has to go to her office, but today even as I apologized I didn't feel my standard penitence and guilt. Wednesday we'll talk about ways to keep track of everything and remind myself and stay organized and all of that, but fuck that and fuck every well-intended coping mechanism. I've been poking around some of the other migraine/chronic pain blogs out there. All these things that make me feel crazy and worthless and alive and everything else get echoed across the internet. It's the stuff that makes it hard to take care of yourself when you most need to take care of yourself, the helplessness, the outlook adjustments, the assertions, and the thin shadow puppet "normal life" stories we project to distract and amuse ourselves. So I'm sorry to anyone I've inconvenienced with my disease, but try living with the uncontrollable monster that causes such "inconvenience," the guilt and frustration of constantly messing shit up, and the uncertainty as to whether or not anything you do has any kind of impact or if you're just being tossed around.
Some days I can cope with no control. Today was not one of those days.
Thank you, Aural Girl, for coming over and bringing me food and human contact. I don't think I even asked how her fucking trip was. She just did this huge thing. I was very lost and self-involved in fogland. The humus is delicious.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Do Not Pass Go
My migraine doc calls it "dullness." I refer to it as all sorts of things, including "the crazies," "the zappies," "being stupid," "like I'm stoned," and who knows what else. It's common in migraine sufferers, it's actually a symptom of the migraine (right along with light sensitivity, nausea, etc.), and it means I don't function properly and there's not a thing I can do about it. I can't always tell when I'm in "dullness" mode. There will be days when I'm chugging along, getting things done on the computer, and I switch over to online kakuro (which I play a lot) and I can't add anything in my head or remember numbers from one moment to the next and I realize my brain is misfiring all over the place and whatever I had been working on earlier probably contains tons of mistakes. Or it took 20 times longer to complete a simple task, or I did the wrong thing altogether. This happens to me at some point during the day almost every day. Sometimes it just flusters me and I just have to accept that it's time to put down what I'm doing and move on. Sometimes I'm stuck in a situation where I don't have that luxury.
I don't even know when or exactly how I miscalculated my finances in the last few weeks. I'm usually quite good at managing where my money is at any particular moment, maintaining the delicate balance between savings, checking, and credit card so that as much as possible is in savings and as little is on credit at any given moment. Well, I paid off my credit card in full and somehow thought there was more in my checking and savings than actually existed in my checking and savings and with my wonderful world of auto-payed bills, as of this morning I have $34 liquid.
I'm panicking.
I shouldn't be panicking. If I can quiet down the panic enough to function without the audible wavering of desperation, I make phone calls and drive around tomorrow until I have at least $200 in cash. My head still fucking hurts and it may keep hurting, but I have a feeling it will hurt less once I'm not worried about my bank account.
It's funny that I have all this anxiety about money. Money isn't real. I'm very aware of that. I feel about money the way a child feels about the dark, or maybe the way I'm supposed to feel about my period. I get far more embarrassed talking about money than I do about my menstrual cycle.
Holy shit my head hurts. It's in my neck. Why haven't I gotten my jacuzzi jets fixed? Get Manbug back over here with Dr. Mary Jane. That would be swell.
Fucking fuck, I feel so much I overload and cry and my head explodes. I take everything in and absorb what I can, live and write what I can, try to dispose of the rest as waste product through my tear ducts, and then anything left over turns into pain.
I texted Aural Girl and Possible Boy, asking them to stop by some time tonight because I'm feeling very down. Apparently they are at a Bulls game (migraine hell, which is why I can't be AG's basketball buddy) but still absolutely are happy to stop by whatever time they get back. This makes me cry, too. It's the huge, unhidden, open-hearted love and kindness. It's what means the most to me in this entire world. Not just the two of them. I know, I know, I bring this up a lot, but I've had some amazing friends over the course of my life.
In therapy today we talked about my propensity to sidekick myself. When it comes to another human being, the reasons I love and like and don't and everything in between aren't a list of assets and liabilities--it's a feeling. I don't think I'm the crazy lady who likes you or doesn't because your aura is too murky, but I definitely trust some sort of deeper sense even as my logical snark-machine of a brain is churning out pros and cons.
So why should anyone like me? I know my list of traits as well as a 27-year-old woman can know her own list, but it's not about traits. I can't get a feeling about myself so I try to base it off other people, but who do I trust? Can I trust myself to choose good people to trust? Again with the spiral of the ether and all that, and somehow the conclusion tends to be that I'm annoying, a social pariah, and I overthink everything.
I have trouble being present in my own life.
I've always written off the random boys who think I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread; I thought I needed somebody stronger than any guy who could possibly be crushing on me. But that's exactly who I need: someone who does see me as wonderful and shiny and all that; that's the real support.
I feel like I'm playing the self-actualization game and I keep completing levels and at some point I win the Relationship charm but I'm not there yet and I can't see how many more levels there are to go or what I still have to do and that's frustrating.
Will someone just sponsor my blog and give me tons of money to write whatever I feel like all day?
Maybe tonight I'll revive my phone sex account. Also good for money.
I don't even know when or exactly how I miscalculated my finances in the last few weeks. I'm usually quite good at managing where my money is at any particular moment, maintaining the delicate balance between savings, checking, and credit card so that as much as possible is in savings and as little is on credit at any given moment. Well, I paid off my credit card in full and somehow thought there was more in my checking and savings than actually existed in my checking and savings and with my wonderful world of auto-payed bills, as of this morning I have $34 liquid.
I'm panicking.
I shouldn't be panicking. If I can quiet down the panic enough to function without the audible wavering of desperation, I make phone calls and drive around tomorrow until I have at least $200 in cash. My head still fucking hurts and it may keep hurting, but I have a feeling it will hurt less once I'm not worried about my bank account.
It's funny that I have all this anxiety about money. Money isn't real. I'm very aware of that. I feel about money the way a child feels about the dark, or maybe the way I'm supposed to feel about my period. I get far more embarrassed talking about money than I do about my menstrual cycle.
Holy shit my head hurts. It's in my neck. Why haven't I gotten my jacuzzi jets fixed? Get Manbug back over here with Dr. Mary Jane. That would be swell.
Fucking fuck, I feel so much I overload and cry and my head explodes. I take everything in and absorb what I can, live and write what I can, try to dispose of the rest as waste product through my tear ducts, and then anything left over turns into pain.
I texted Aural Girl and Possible Boy, asking them to stop by some time tonight because I'm feeling very down. Apparently they are at a Bulls game (migraine hell, which is why I can't be AG's basketball buddy) but still absolutely are happy to stop by whatever time they get back. This makes me cry, too. It's the huge, unhidden, open-hearted love and kindness. It's what means the most to me in this entire world. Not just the two of them. I know, I know, I bring this up a lot, but I've had some amazing friends over the course of my life.
In therapy today we talked about my propensity to sidekick myself. When it comes to another human being, the reasons I love and like and don't and everything in between aren't a list of assets and liabilities--it's a feeling. I don't think I'm the crazy lady who likes you or doesn't because your aura is too murky, but I definitely trust some sort of deeper sense even as my logical snark-machine of a brain is churning out pros and cons.
So why should anyone like me? I know my list of traits as well as a 27-year-old woman can know her own list, but it's not about traits. I can't get a feeling about myself so I try to base it off other people, but who do I trust? Can I trust myself to choose good people to trust? Again with the spiral of the ether and all that, and somehow the conclusion tends to be that I'm annoying, a social pariah, and I overthink everything.
I have trouble being present in my own life.
I've always written off the random boys who think I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread; I thought I needed somebody stronger than any guy who could possibly be crushing on me. But that's exactly who I need: someone who does see me as wonderful and shiny and all that; that's the real support.
I feel like I'm playing the self-actualization game and I keep completing levels and at some point I win the Relationship charm but I'm not there yet and I can't see how many more levels there are to go or what I still have to do and that's frustrating.
Will someone just sponsor my blog and give me tons of money to write whatever I feel like all day?
Maybe tonight I'll revive my phone sex account. Also good for money.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
So Much Love in the World...
Aural Girl came over this evening to tell me that she and Possible Boy decided to start "Dating."
I'm feeling too many things. I'll get as many into words as I can.
I'm afraid. I found these real, true, quality friends and they are wonderful and right here and they care and understand and support and are so full of love and adoration and are just as happy to have me exist as I am happy to have them exist. I don't want anything messing that up and I'm absolutely terrified of shifting the balance in any way that might hurt this amazing thing we have right now.
I want more than anything in the world for them to be happy and find exactly what they could potentially find in eachother, and if there's even the slightest chance that they could be one another's Someone, then there's so much potential wonderful in Aural Girl seeing Possible Boy's...possibility.
I'm still attracted to Possible Boy but deep swoons and jealous flare-ups subsided some time ago. I don't think I believed I was more or less "over him" until tonight, and I may feel very differently when I see him/them, but at the moment the "Boy I Like Is Now With Another Girl" thing isn't strong enough to make it through the rest of what I feel.
I'm afraid of everything that comes next. I already feel a bit like a third wheel, but I tend to do that to myself; half the time I play side-kick in my autobiography. Now if the two of them become a romantic unit, they suddenly both have eachother fulfilling that giant deficit in a way I can only watch and wave and smile.
That's assuming things go well.
Over-analyzing will be death of me, but I feel the fear and I'm addressing it, dammit. I've had plenty of experience being friends with both members of a couple and when things aren't going well in couple-land I never know what to do. Going back to high school, I'd have couple friends with one member cheating on the other, telling me about it in detail while keeping the other member in the dark. Two different versions of the same incident, and I'd try to fix everybody and give advice taking both perspectives into account, meanwhile never having a relationship of my own as experience/reference. I know this isn't the same, but patterns pitter patter about my brain and scare the shit out of me.
This is not about me. This is about them. And it could be a really wonderful thing for them. It could be a disaster, too, or anything inbetween. I guess we'll see.
I can't look at this as a big sucky thing that leaves me on the sidelines. They still adore me. None of that has changed. And there's still so much world. I have a fucking menagerie of "gentlemen callers." I seriously considered calling Manbug to fuck away my woes.
Chain Boy* was over here last week when my head was really awful and it was nice, but I know better than to just fuck with him to make myself feel better. And maybe I'll actually crawl outside my most recently fortressed comfort-zone and spend time with other friends, other neighborhoods, other Boys. There are many more stories to be lived. I'm experiencing a highly saturated chunk of my life.
Finally getting together romantically with Aural Girl is such a huge thing for Possible Boy, I want to be able to be as excited and happy for him as it/he deserves. But I can't see theirs without also seeing the giant hole where mine could be, and it hurts like hell.
*Boy who like(d/s) me for quite some time now but I don't like myself around him and he's really negative but then we have a nice time together randomly until he starts saying I remind him of his schizophrenic ex-girlfriend needs a name in here and I'm going with Chain Boy for a number of reasons that are amusing in my head.
I'm feeling too many things. I'll get as many into words as I can.
I'm afraid. I found these real, true, quality friends and they are wonderful and right here and they care and understand and support and are so full of love and adoration and are just as happy to have me exist as I am happy to have them exist. I don't want anything messing that up and I'm absolutely terrified of shifting the balance in any way that might hurt this amazing thing we have right now.
I want more than anything in the world for them to be happy and find exactly what they could potentially find in eachother, and if there's even the slightest chance that they could be one another's Someone, then there's so much potential wonderful in Aural Girl seeing Possible Boy's...possibility.
I'm still attracted to Possible Boy but deep swoons and jealous flare-ups subsided some time ago. I don't think I believed I was more or less "over him" until tonight, and I may feel very differently when I see him/them, but at the moment the "Boy I Like Is Now With Another Girl" thing isn't strong enough to make it through the rest of what I feel.
I'm afraid of everything that comes next. I already feel a bit like a third wheel, but I tend to do that to myself; half the time I play side-kick in my autobiography. Now if the two of them become a romantic unit, they suddenly both have eachother fulfilling that giant deficit in a way I can only watch and wave and smile.
That's assuming things go well.
Over-analyzing will be death of me, but I feel the fear and I'm addressing it, dammit. I've had plenty of experience being friends with both members of a couple and when things aren't going well in couple-land I never know what to do. Going back to high school, I'd have couple friends with one member cheating on the other, telling me about it in detail while keeping the other member in the dark. Two different versions of the same incident, and I'd try to fix everybody and give advice taking both perspectives into account, meanwhile never having a relationship of my own as experience/reference. I know this isn't the same, but patterns pitter patter about my brain and scare the shit out of me.
This is not about me. This is about them. And it could be a really wonderful thing for them. It could be a disaster, too, or anything inbetween. I guess we'll see.
I can't look at this as a big sucky thing that leaves me on the sidelines. They still adore me. None of that has changed. And there's still so much world. I have a fucking menagerie of "gentlemen callers." I seriously considered calling Manbug to fuck away my woes.
Chain Boy* was over here last week when my head was really awful and it was nice, but I know better than to just fuck with him to make myself feel better. And maybe I'll actually crawl outside my most recently fortressed comfort-zone and spend time with other friends, other neighborhoods, other Boys. There are many more stories to be lived. I'm experiencing a highly saturated chunk of my life.
Finally getting together romantically with Aural Girl is such a huge thing for Possible Boy, I want to be able to be as excited and happy for him as it/he deserves. But I can't see theirs without also seeing the giant hole where mine could be, and it hurts like hell.
*Boy who like(d/s) me for quite some time now but I don't like myself around him and he's really negative but then we have a nice time together randomly until he starts saying I remind him of his schizophrenic ex-girlfriend needs a name in here and I'm going with Chain Boy for a number of reasons that are amusing in my head.
Friday, February 19, 2010
By the Power of Grayskull
Aural Girl needs love and support and I couldn't even drive to the grocery store let alone pick her up from school or do anything else helpful, loving, or supportive. Grrr. Only one of us is allowed to have any sort of problem or physical ailment at a time; it works out so much better that way.
She still managed to bring me apples on her way home.
My psychiatrist had never heard of She-Ra or He-Man. I didn't think he was that much older than me, but he must have missed the cartoon wonderland of the 1980s somehow. I brought it up because I just discovered She-Ra on Hulu. I've only watched the first two episodes, but holy shit.
Possible Boy called. I'm going over to his house to watch Billy Elliot. Much better than my Law & Order SVU marathon in my own livingroom I had planned for the rest of my night. Still quiet, still dark, but human contact and a change of scenery. Had I been capable of coming up with such a plan, I would have planned it.
Migraine doc says the "cognitive dullness" is a not-so-unusual symptom of the migraine itself. No reason to get frustrated over things I can't control.
She still managed to bring me apples on her way home.
My psychiatrist had never heard of She-Ra or He-Man. I didn't think he was that much older than me, but he must have missed the cartoon wonderland of the 1980s somehow. I brought it up because I just discovered She-Ra on Hulu. I've only watched the first two episodes, but holy shit.
Possible Boy called. I'm going over to his house to watch Billy Elliot. Much better than my Law & Order SVU marathon in my own livingroom I had planned for the rest of my night. Still quiet, still dark, but human contact and a change of scenery. Had I been capable of coming up with such a plan, I would have planned it.
Migraine doc says the "cognitive dullness" is a not-so-unusual symptom of the migraine itself. No reason to get frustrated over things I can't control.
Monday, February 15, 2010
I keep starting posts and then not finishing them. They're all saved and can be edited and completed later. My brain is being bitchy and making it hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. I'll try to keep this short and hopefully get one fully formed idea out and published before I lose it again.
Today I had to pick up the stuff I bought at last week's auction. Today the migraine continued to kick my ass. Today my car wouldn't be ready until after 2 and I was supposed to have a psychiatrist's appointment at 4.
Lucky for me, today was Presidents' Day and Possible Boy ha the day off work. All the stuff I got at the auction barely fit in his otherwise empty car. I had help loading and unloading and it all went exponentially faster and easier than the multiple trips and hobbling around I would have had to do on my own.
But there's something even better than just having help get crap from point A to point B. I was feeling really shitty and there was this human being who would drop everything and help me without question and without declaring himself a martyr and making everything a lesson, a criticism, and a judgment. I've had other friends like this in my life and I feel so fortunate. In the past few years my head has only gotten worse, so I'm thrilled to have people who are quick to do everything they can living a block away.
Tomorrow I see my psychiatrist at 10:30 and my migraine doctor at 1:30. Whoopie.
Today I had to pick up the stuff I bought at last week's auction. Today the migraine continued to kick my ass. Today my car wouldn't be ready until after 2 and I was supposed to have a psychiatrist's appointment at 4.
Lucky for me, today was Presidents' Day and Possible Boy ha the day off work. All the stuff I got at the auction barely fit in his otherwise empty car. I had help loading and unloading and it all went exponentially faster and easier than the multiple trips and hobbling around I would have had to do on my own.
But there's something even better than just having help get crap from point A to point B. I was feeling really shitty and there was this human being who would drop everything and help me without question and without declaring himself a martyr and making everything a lesson, a criticism, and a judgment. I've had other friends like this in my life and I feel so fortunate. In the past few years my head has only gotten worse, so I'm thrilled to have people who are quick to do everything they can living a block away.
Tomorrow I see my psychiatrist at 10:30 and my migraine doctor at 1:30. Whoopie.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
You probably think this song is about you
Love is longing? Is the unobtainable? The feeling that your emotional muscles are being stretched to their limit, that is love?
No.
That is familiar. That is the semi-silent suffering that makes for great novels and television dramas and plenty of mediocre works of truth and fiction, too.
It's what we late bloomers, wallflowers, writers, and dreamers have been carving into trees our entire lives.
Now here we are, blossoming in a maniac's paradise, the world delivered on a plate via room service, and all we know is longing and books and promises we carved into trees.
I still blossom in wallpaper and words, but there is too much world overflowing with true love and fullness to get caught in webs of longing for its own sad sake.
I know you can see how much world is out there--love is there, too. The searing fades away when you can see the love, the intentions, and the humanity.
Now, I'm lapping up every last drop I can get, but I'm also looking for a partner. My heart does a lot of crazy things, but I trust my intuition lately, and whatever happens happens. I want to feed this to you in pill form. I want to take your sadness and flush it into the ether so it's merely another frosty breath passing through winter.
Mine, too.
And then you will see friends as love and longing as pain and love as possibility.
No.
That is familiar. That is the semi-silent suffering that makes for great novels and television dramas and plenty of mediocre works of truth and fiction, too.
It's what we late bloomers, wallflowers, writers, and dreamers have been carving into trees our entire lives.
Now here we are, blossoming in a maniac's paradise, the world delivered on a plate via room service, and all we know is longing and books and promises we carved into trees.
I still blossom in wallpaper and words, but there is too much world overflowing with true love and fullness to get caught in webs of longing for its own sad sake.
I know you can see how much world is out there--love is there, too. The searing fades away when you can see the love, the intentions, and the humanity.
Now, I'm lapping up every last drop I can get, but I'm also looking for a partner. My heart does a lot of crazy things, but I trust my intuition lately, and whatever happens happens. I want to feed this to you in pill form. I want to take your sadness and flush it into the ether so it's merely another frosty breath passing through winter.
Mine, too.
And then you will see friends as love and longing as pain and love as possibility.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Responsible
Neighbor Guy called me this morning from his neighbor's phone to say he had to go to the emergency room, could I give him a ride.
He thought he had alcohol poisoning.
He was conscious, had thrown up earlier, and described standard "I drank too much and now I feel like shit" symptoms, but his neighbor seemed to agree the ER was necessary so I put on my jacket and went to get my car.
My car started, went half a block, and stopped. Same dead transmission crap it pulled a few weeks ago. Two guys standing out in the single-digit cold were very nice and helped push my car into a mostly legal parking spot. "Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses" my ass. Hair in a pony tail, glasses on, wearing a hoodie and boys still do nice things. Maybe humanity is just nicer than I used to think.
I walked back to Neighbor Guy's apartment and it was even more clear to me that he was fine, but yet another one of his neighbors popped in and said detoxing at the ER was clearly the best thing, so I figured I was wrong and called a cab while Neighbor Guy went back and forth between lying on the floor in the fetal position and walking around somewhere between anxious and annoyed.
The cab arrives and Neighbor Guy has to choose which ER. He's worked at many of the major hospitals in the area, so he names the closest one he can think of where he knows no one but it doesn't suck.
$20 cab ride later (the driver had to break his $100 bill) we walk into the ER and sit down. The admitting nurse asks what's wrong and looks at Neighbor Guy like he's crazy when he says he thinks he has alcohol poisoning.
"Alcohol what?"
"I drank too much and now I feel..."
"You want to do detox?"
"Yes"
"Are you an alcoholic?"
"Yes."
This whole ordeal is suddenly worth it if Neighbor Guy admits to his alcoholism.
The nurse still thought we were insane or using the ER to treat poor baby Neighbor Guy with his tummy ache and his psychosomatic attention-seeking phantom symptoms.
That's what I thought, too.
They put him on an IV because he wanted to be on an IV. What was in the IV? Anti-nausea drugs and anti-anxiety drugs; a very mild cocktail.
He wanted to be babied and fawned over, but the whole time I was covering just what he needed, tough love, telling him he was fine and he could do it himself. He wanted to come back to my house, I said no. He wanted to take a cab the two blocks from Walgreens to his house. He wanted all sorts of things from me and from the universe and I wasn't going to make any of this cushy for him. I feel physically crappy all the time. I complain about it a lot, but it's something I'm very familiar with. When you bring the crappy on yourself in a very avoidable way, you need to learn to take responsibility for it yourself, too.
Today tied in very closely with my feelings about my trip to New York. I felt very irresponsible on the NY trip. I kept losing papers and things in my purse, I felt frazzled and dependent on Possible Boy but at the same time responsible for him. I felt like it wasn't my trip so everything I did was pure intrusion and as soon as something was actually expected of me I should have it pop magically and perfectly out of a hat because I was responsible for so little. In essence, I was back to Vacation With My Family Mode. I even forgot to eat and got crazy hungry, which is completely Singer Family Vacation Tradition--at least half the family should be hungry and cranky and yelling at any given moment. Possible Boy called me "Sweetie" at one point and I felt so much like I deserved to be treated like a child I didn't even try to punch him.
Flash forward to today, in a cab. Now instead of people taking important documents from me so they won't get lost, I'm the one holding the papers and Neighbor Guy's wallet, all in the same purse that ate addresses and directions just a few days earlier. I direct the driver to Walgreens, give the pharmacist Neighbor Guy's information. Neighbor Guy doesn't have a phone number. Last week I was in Walgreens trying to work a way to get more of my shots to me in New York. I'd tried to get them at this Walgreens, my Chicago Walgreens, a week before my trip, but with Christmas and insurance they weren't ready in time. So I felt irresponsible in New York, a drug addict begging at the counter for vials of the only thing that seems to consistently cut through my pain, and like Neighbor Guy I'd walked right into my pain my first night in New York. I ate cookies and drank a beer. I know now that cookies and beer make my head hurt, but I did it anyway. Then I drank coffee to keep me going. Then I forgot to eat. All these things that can cause problems, and I wanted to say "To hell with it! I'm in New York! I can live life like a normal person!" But I used up my shots and there I was at Walgreens, and Walgreens told me I couldn't get more shots, so now I'd have to live with the consequences. But it wasn't just me, alone in my condo with my consequences. I had friends along for the ride. I'm used to being alone, designing my life around my solitude, my dog is my "plus one." I don't want it to be that way anymore, and it's starting to change, but I have to learn to adapt my behavior, too. "To hell with it" effects more than just me.
Back to Neighbor Guy. He's the extreme example. He wants everyone else's world to stop with his hangover. I understand the feeling of "How can life go on when I feel like death?" but that's one of those ideas you know is ridiculous.
Possible Boy just called. I totally spilled cranky all over him. My mother called moments later and got more of it. I need to eat and I need to remember that everybody is human and we're all just trying to figure out life at our own paces and flavors. Neighbor Guy's inability to see beyond himself makes me crazy, but that's just one facet a lot of people share to varying degrees. Forgive myself for seeing myself first and maybe I can be less annoyed by everybody else.
Apparently I'm going to Aural Girl's house for zucchini pancakes. Local friends are swell.
He thought he had alcohol poisoning.
He was conscious, had thrown up earlier, and described standard "I drank too much and now I feel like shit" symptoms, but his neighbor seemed to agree the ER was necessary so I put on my jacket and went to get my car.
My car started, went half a block, and stopped. Same dead transmission crap it pulled a few weeks ago. Two guys standing out in the single-digit cold were very nice and helped push my car into a mostly legal parking spot. "Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses" my ass. Hair in a pony tail, glasses on, wearing a hoodie and boys still do nice things. Maybe humanity is just nicer than I used to think.
I walked back to Neighbor Guy's apartment and it was even more clear to me that he was fine, but yet another one of his neighbors popped in and said detoxing at the ER was clearly the best thing, so I figured I was wrong and called a cab while Neighbor Guy went back and forth between lying on the floor in the fetal position and walking around somewhere between anxious and annoyed.
The cab arrives and Neighbor Guy has to choose which ER. He's worked at many of the major hospitals in the area, so he names the closest one he can think of where he knows no one but it doesn't suck.
$20 cab ride later (the driver had to break his $100 bill) we walk into the ER and sit down. The admitting nurse asks what's wrong and looks at Neighbor Guy like he's crazy when he says he thinks he has alcohol poisoning.
"Alcohol what?"
"I drank too much and now I feel..."
"You want to do detox?"
"Yes"
"Are you an alcoholic?"
"Yes."
This whole ordeal is suddenly worth it if Neighbor Guy admits to his alcoholism.
The nurse still thought we were insane or using the ER to treat poor baby Neighbor Guy with his tummy ache and his psychosomatic attention-seeking phantom symptoms.
That's what I thought, too.
They put him on an IV because he wanted to be on an IV. What was in the IV? Anti-nausea drugs and anti-anxiety drugs; a very mild cocktail.
He wanted to be babied and fawned over, but the whole time I was covering just what he needed, tough love, telling him he was fine and he could do it himself. He wanted to come back to my house, I said no. He wanted to take a cab the two blocks from Walgreens to his house. He wanted all sorts of things from me and from the universe and I wasn't going to make any of this cushy for him. I feel physically crappy all the time. I complain about it a lot, but it's something I'm very familiar with. When you bring the crappy on yourself in a very avoidable way, you need to learn to take responsibility for it yourself, too.
Today tied in very closely with my feelings about my trip to New York. I felt very irresponsible on the NY trip. I kept losing papers and things in my purse, I felt frazzled and dependent on Possible Boy but at the same time responsible for him. I felt like it wasn't my trip so everything I did was pure intrusion and as soon as something was actually expected of me I should have it pop magically and perfectly out of a hat because I was responsible for so little. In essence, I was back to Vacation With My Family Mode. I even forgot to eat and got crazy hungry, which is completely Singer Family Vacation Tradition--at least half the family should be hungry and cranky and yelling at any given moment. Possible Boy called me "Sweetie" at one point and I felt so much like I deserved to be treated like a child I didn't even try to punch him.
Flash forward to today, in a cab. Now instead of people taking important documents from me so they won't get lost, I'm the one holding the papers and Neighbor Guy's wallet, all in the same purse that ate addresses and directions just a few days earlier. I direct the driver to Walgreens, give the pharmacist Neighbor Guy's information. Neighbor Guy doesn't have a phone number. Last week I was in Walgreens trying to work a way to get more of my shots to me in New York. I'd tried to get them at this Walgreens, my Chicago Walgreens, a week before my trip, but with Christmas and insurance they weren't ready in time. So I felt irresponsible in New York, a drug addict begging at the counter for vials of the only thing that seems to consistently cut through my pain, and like Neighbor Guy I'd walked right into my pain my first night in New York. I ate cookies and drank a beer. I know now that cookies and beer make my head hurt, but I did it anyway. Then I drank coffee to keep me going. Then I forgot to eat. All these things that can cause problems, and I wanted to say "To hell with it! I'm in New York! I can live life like a normal person!" But I used up my shots and there I was at Walgreens, and Walgreens told me I couldn't get more shots, so now I'd have to live with the consequences. But it wasn't just me, alone in my condo with my consequences. I had friends along for the ride. I'm used to being alone, designing my life around my solitude, my dog is my "plus one." I don't want it to be that way anymore, and it's starting to change, but I have to learn to adapt my behavior, too. "To hell with it" effects more than just me.
Back to Neighbor Guy. He's the extreme example. He wants everyone else's world to stop with his hangover. I understand the feeling of "How can life go on when I feel like death?" but that's one of those ideas you know is ridiculous.
Possible Boy just called. I totally spilled cranky all over him. My mother called moments later and got more of it. I need to eat and I need to remember that everybody is human and we're all just trying to figure out life at our own paces and flavors. Neighbor Guy's inability to see beyond himself makes me crazy, but that's just one facet a lot of people share to varying degrees. Forgive myself for seeing myself first and maybe I can be less annoyed by everybody else.
Apparently I'm going to Aural Girl's house for zucchini pancakes. Local friends are swell.
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