7:30 a.m. - 07/08/02
nice to meet you. again.
there's a message on my answering machine from Chas. there is a message on my answering machine from Chas. please excuse me while I seize this moment to go listen to the message - on my answering machine - from Chas.
I'm less of a dork when you know it's been a year since I've heard the woman's voice. eeee! what I would give to be able to call her back; unfortunately, it's 7:30, and all *normal* people are in bed at 7:30 on a summer morning. of course, there are always those die-hard nonconformists such as moi, who are just so into being different, even their *sleep habits* rebel. jesus. I could hardly bring myself to go upstairs to sleep last night (despite being extremely exhausted after the agoraphobic equivalent of running a 30-mile marathon) and now after all the effort I put into falling asleep, I wake up at 6. it just isn't fair, sometimes...
*whine*
I still don't really know how I'm doing, emotionally. I think I continue expecting food to be my language, which means that if I'm ok with food I must be ok, generally. I know that isn't true; some of my hardest struggles are the ones where I end up *not* doing anything (hence, it being a struggle) but I have to re-teach myself how to know when I'm ok and when I'm not. I don't really understand how I lost my ability to do this; I suppose it must be hiding. I don't feel shut down, but I don't feel anything else...this is possible how?
so I don't know what I'm feeling. guilty. shamed. happy. grateful. scared. sad. angry. numb. this is possible *how*...?
moving onward, there has been more family in my life in the past two days than there has in ages. this will make perfect sense to people whose lives are nothing like mine, for whom holidays generally involve seeing extended family. my parents have been so far from their family for so long that I rarely had the opportunity to go visiting and when I did, I spent the past few years declining. groups are just; well groups are just, yes you know...
I went to a gathering of my dad's mom's family yesterday, which was the first time I'd been in that area (near N*land) in quite some time. Driving home was very bizarre; I kept seeing signs for towns near where we used to live going, "Oh, we're almost there! No...wait...we've barely started driving." And everywhere were corn fields, and everywhere were people too tanned with hair too blonde. I was surrounded by alcohol drinking V8 Splash. Being hugged by people I did not recognize. Being congratulated by people I did not know. Told I've gotten tall. I'm still 5'2" but I suppose, relative to a 7-inch newborn, 5'2" is tall. I suppose.
I was struck by how comfortable I was being uncomfortable. I would not have survived the day unless John had come along (or rather, I would not have gone if John had not gone along), but all the same, I was comfortable amid these people who barely know me, and who feel so foreign. The day before yesterday my mom's family got together, and I ended up not going- for reasons to be discussed in later paragraphs- among which was the very real problem that these are people I love and have grown up around but people I do not know. I hate "making conversation." I hate being a wallflower. I hate cousins I don't know taking pity on me, trying to converse. The problem is, we want to *pretend* we know each other. We don't want to be like, "Hi, I have no idea who you are." I've seen my dad's family so much less that the lack of ease is easy. People come up to me, guess that I'm Sarah, ask if I remember them, and I smile and say, "Sorry, no." It's better that way. It's better to be like, "So, who are you? Tell me about yourself."
I have a very strong urge to begin every conversation with people, even my best friends, with, "So who are you? Tell me about yourself." But that's the Darwin coming through again...
I seem to have two safe people in each family, which sucks considering that, especially my mom's side of the family is fairly gargantuan. Yesterday, I was, of course, pleased to see my grandma, but she was so tense to even have us there, it didn't feel right. Mostly I was glad to see my second cousin, Shelly, who is really laid back, and self-assured (coming out in small-town Midwest can do that to a girl), and coaches girls around my age, so I feel really comfortable - and my great-aunt Judy, who is really only a few years older than my dad. Judy and her husband Mike are John's godparents, so I saw a little more of them as a kid than I did of the rest of this bunch. We used to go over there around Christmas and they would make tiny pizzas with rye toast and cheese-whiz (which I swear, even from my health-nut vegetarian stance, are still the best thing in the world) and entertain us. Judy is, actually, very similar to Judie, which is such a sincere stage-mom energy, I enjoy it. I appreciate people who are genuine.
Not that I don't feel something stir inside just being in a backyard surrounded by people who look like me, but I'm aware that these are the people with whom I could hold a real conversation. There are probably more, but these are the -two- that I know.
The night before, when I was still planning to attend my aunt's party, I said something to my mom about how, despite loving everyone there (pretty much), there were basically two people I could talk to: my grandma (who ended up not attending; she's been sick, apparently) and my cousin Anna. The playmates of my childhood have either a.) grown into people who look frighteningly like their parents or b.) just grown- i.e. I no longer know them. I'm fairly certain that I could have a really wonderful friendship with my cousin Elise, except I have no idea who she is. This complicates things.
I would have liked to see my aunts for a few minutes just to show them a strong smile and say a silent thank you for all the support they've thrown my way. But as my mom put it, I just can't do crowds. Anna knows that, and is talking about coming to visit us before she moves (to Arizona, which will make her very happy.) I was really hoping she would. And I'm trying to find a way to visit my mom's mom sometime in the next two weeks. I don't feel right going a long while without seeing her. I want to soak her up and make her proud; I want to memorize the way her eyes move when she speaks.
I think mostly we just don't want to admit that we've blinked and missed the other person's life-thus-far. Re-getting to know each other means admitting things have changed, and I'll admit, I hate change, too. But is it really better to sit awkwardly with someone, reminscing to forced laughter because neither of you know which more current anecdotes would amuse? I'm tired of sitting at the kiddy-table; the chairs no longer fit...
chord
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