9:00 p.m. - 01/23/02
in which I pretend proper capitilization doesn't matter.
still the headache. urgh. I've given up trying to determine its origin and counteract it, though I've basically cut it down to two theories. I've either a) contracted some sort of virus, which is bizarre considering I never leave the house and no one here has been sick or b) the fact that I haven't slept in three days is really starting to affect how I feel. I think it's b. the nausea, the headache, the shakiness - they're all similar to what happened to me in NYC when I was sleep-deprived. then again, looking at the symptoms it could be some inner ear deal. oh, grargh, I need to stop writing this; I just try to figure it out when I write.
whatever it is, though; it sucks to the extreme. yesterday when I finally found some acetemenophine, I went to get a glass and my hands were shaking so hard and I was having such trouble seeing that I dropped it on the floor and it shattered. I had to clean up all these little glass shards (the size of glitter) before I could take the pills. and even then, the headache only disipated (slightly) for about 20 minutes. I'm telling myself it was the protein though, and not the pill, because if it's protein I eat protein, and if it's the pill, I just end up addicted to otc meds.
don't really feel like going over this yet, but I suppose I've been a bit desperate lately, desperate in the "things change or mary checks out" sort of way. which sucks. suicide needs to fucking die. I wish we could kill that option instead of always killing ourselves. anyway, the major bullshit is that I can't tell anyone how I'm feeling because they'll just tell my parents who will freak and make the urges worse, so I have to sort of beat around the bush, and get things worked out without saying quite how overwhelming it is. of course, they all know. harriet asked me monday if I was suicidal (I told her no, because I have no plan of going through with anything; I just feel crazy) and when I got home I called Dr. R. (which shows I was losing ground fast because I've *never* called him; I never call *anyone*) and he said something to me about how I need to hang on and let them help me, that things will get better, that it doesn't have to go the way it did for Trace...
I didn't have the heart to ask him what other way it goes.
I finished my letter to Harriet sometime this morning before finally going to bed, and waking up every fifteen minutes, heart-palpitating after yet another nightmare. they got so bad I actually considered sleeping on the floor in my parent's room, the way I did when I was younger. But I didn't have the stamina to walk down the stairs and tell my parents I'd lost count of the bad dreams. so I just lay there, slept, woke, slept, woke, slept.
at least the night before the nightmares lasted longer, I got some actual rest, and there was even one good dream where I was pretty much latched on to Chas (at her suggestion) the entire time. oh, that was lovely. *sigh* maybe tonight things will be better. I could really use some *energy* to fight off whatever demon illness is complicating my life right now.
(other than the obvious one, of course...)
I'm really upset about iceflake disappearing. I know I hadn't updated her in forever, and that's why she's gone, but I'll miss her little stories. I'm so grateful I have cami's drawings; they capture what I wanted ice to be far better than diaryland really did. still, it makes me feel pout-ful to see her vanish this way.
I must save atoms and china before they, too, are gone. *makes note of this*
Laura asked me if I'd be interested in writing something for her newsletter (which I of course agreed to, bouncingly) - now I have to figure out what. I asked her what she was looking for; she replied that "all of [my] writing is lovely" which leaves it almost a little too open. She did suggest I write about my "recent struggle"- I didn't have the heart to ask her which one. God forbid I sound that cynical.
I think I'm going to write about promises and suicide. The promise I made to Chas, the promise Tracy and I made to each other, the promise I made myself to honor Paul. I just thought about the time that I've spent in the woods lately, on the tree that looks like a sunken ship, and how that's the only real place I connect with my feelings about Tracy right now. And suddenly I hear Frost in my head saying, "But I have promises to keep/ and miles to go before I sleep/ and miles to go before I sleep."
But, just in case that's what's up with the insomnia-gods, a *nap* would be nice now and then...
I need to start doing more writing about Tracy, and about where I'm at with all this. I'm not doing enough talking, so I need to start piecing together the words in other ways. It's hard, though; I can still feel tears hiding behind my eyes, and a choking feeling in my chest. It's been a month, and I hate that; I hate that distance. I don't want it to have been a month. I don't like the idea that at some point it could be a year, or twelve years. It's like when I left red; in some ways the grief is the only connection I have to them now, and if I lose it...if time passes, if things heal...and then again...if they don't?
I don't think grief really disipates, though perhaps it evolves. sometimes I wish I could always be writing, not logistically, but in terms of my own determination with it; I wish I had enough stamina to sit with a piece of paper until every thought was down. I wish I could write every letter I want to, every memory I want to, and explain what things are, to myself and to a reader...but...there are just too many words and not enough breath.
If only I could think in third-drafts; my life would be so much easier.
or at least, the documentation of it. I'm off now. I'll post this and the letter to Harriet, and then I'm going to pray to God my fever is an effective sedative.
love
chord
�
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