Perhaps I could have managed yesterday's post with a little more class and a lot less whine.
I am okay. Things are okay. I guess. No one new has gotten sick or died, and I haven't racked up any more catastrophes. I am okay. Except not, which I will now try to splain.
A few weeks ago I decided it was time to exhale and clean up the wreckage of the past four years. I gave it a name: Season of Badness (SOB)*. I declared the season over and attempted to reclaim my former personality, reorganize my life, and rejoin society without reference to the SOB. I got off my ass, flossed, exfoliated, applied a little elbow grease to my inner beauty and resolved to leave SOB behind.
It so didn't work.
My first clue was that with just a moment or two of reflection, I discerned that good intentions notwithstanding, I still required one (and sometimes two) of four things in order to sleep: a) alcohol, b) anti-histimines, c) xanax or d) piles of prescription sleep medication. Not applying one (or two) of the above to my brain is 100% certain to end in me being awake literally all night. Not sleeping at all. And no, it's not because I am busy twisting the heads off the voodoo dolls. I do not lay awake thinking about "it". But sleep and I have not been together in, oh, four years.
My second clue was that despite every good intention of groveling my way back into the good graces of all my friends, I persisted in failing to call any of them. Note: if you knew me in real life, you would know that I have not been able to handle even perfunctory friendship responsibilities, such as returning phone calls, showing up at the gym, and expressing interest in other people's affairs. For about a month after the funeral, I kept up with my friends. And then I went underground. And since they have seen this kind of behavior from me before, they don't track me down. They know I'll be back around when I have enough emotional chee to at least feign interest. But no amount of flossing or exfoliating makes me feel capable of behaving like a normal citizen. So I am awol from my friends for, oh nearly six months. That even includes some of you who live in the computer.
Oh and that final clue? That would be that I wake up (please note this would be after I intoxicate myself by one means or another) in the middle of the night crying. I apologize. There is no way of reporting that information that doesn't sound ass-dragging pathetic. (Just be grateful you are not my boyfriend).
So what does all this data tell me? Does it tell me that the weather hasn't changed? Does it tell me that SOB is not yet over?
Oddly, no. The weather has changed quite a bit and the flossing will surely get me on the lower half of the waiting list for heaven. My skin looks much better, even if I am no more nice a person. SOB is definitely over.
The data, in short, tells me that reclaiming my former personality, reorganizing my life, and rejoining society is not going to work. Whoever I was before the SOB is not someone I can be again. That me is over. And while you might assume the news would be distressing, it isn't really. More than anything, I am just confused.
When I say I am not okay, therefore, what I am saying is that I do not know who I am anymore. I can't go back to the way I was, and I literally do not know how to proceed with the post-SOB season. I don't know how to behave, and I don't know what to think, and I don't know what to do. So do I hate everything, like I said? Not exactly. I just don't know anything anymore and it's disorienting and scary. Just go with it for now. I have to go with it, too.
* Pronounced "Saab" - only at the end you have a huge ass and brain damage from all the crying - not the European luxury car we would all prefer.
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10 comments:
I would like to say something pithy (I just love that word), but really what I'm thinking is that far down the road there's a tiny speck you can't really see. And that is the light at the end of the tunnel. You are exactly who you are. You seem very consistent and intact to me. Maybe one of your more comfortable personas has cracked and, hey, you're getting a glimpse of the girl inside. Most people, being scared as shit of facing themselves, would grab a truckload of spackle to patch the cracks. But you're not doing that. You have the wisdom and the guts not to do that. Buddha would be proud (if pride were an emotion he would allow himself).
Love you.
It is ok to be changed by life as long as those changes aren't hurting you. You'll find out how you now relate to and live in the world. And it'll be ok and eventually better than ok.
We may live in your computer, but we're holding your hand.
You are still trying to find/create a new 'normal', and that just sort of takes time before it happens. That 'time' sucks, of course, but it will pass and you will have found the new you; built atop the old and stronger.
I agree with ByJane. You are doing great, even if you don't think you are. Most of us are lost most of the time, you are not alone and how you are feeling is normal. Big hugs.Hey, and Avitable loves you
and so do I :-).
Avitable loves you and Annie loves you and so do I. See, Jane is smart - what she said, pal. And, what Catherine said in comments box of previous post.
And I love you too.
Was just thinking of you yesterday as I was frantically knitting to catch up with the backlog of gifts. I think you need something pretty of your own.
FWIW, there seems to be a lot of SOB going around lately, if you find comfort in solidarity. I hope to get around to blogging about it sometime, but just can't bear to at the moment. That said, if a distraction would help, I'd be happy to oblige .
I see lots of wonderfully supportive advice here. We love you. Take all the time you need; we're all still here.
Please know you are thought of, and cared about, and prayed for. You've got more of a handle on things than you probably think you do, IMO. I hope you did something nice for yourself this week (and if not yet, please do, even if something small!).
I'm still in NY if you ever want to meet.
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