10:20 p.m. - 01/09/03
[''take me home and leave! me! there!!.........
hi.
hi. what do you need?
to talk I guess. but I need to be quiet also, so I think this is best.
ok. what's going on?
I feel really tired and sad. mostly the sad part. I just feel tired because I feel sad and because I feel it so often and because when I think I get past something it comes back.
how did it start?
well, I was really out of it and foggy-headed all day (depressed, I guess, but maybe not in my clinical sense)...so I got online to make contact with the world, and I talked to Britt which was great, but I cut it short to go bike-riding. I took my as-needed meds first because I haven't outside riding in a long time, and it made me nervous...plus, I was thinking about asking mom if she wanted to go out tonight, and I knew they'd kick in while I was on the road and help me deal with the conversation better. and the bike ride felt really good except that I didn't cut off enough of it in terms of how long I've been without riding, and so I had to walk parts of it. plus, it's colder than I thought it was, and I started wheezing and stuff like I always do when it's cold and my heart rate's up. and then I came home, and I drank water, and I tried to breathe.
and?
and Mom wasn't home yet, so I showered, and my meds had basically kicked in and I felt calm, except when I thought about going out. there's this cd that I didn't buy the other day, and I really should have- it was only 6 bucks, and it's one I really love, so I want to go back and see if it's still there. I kept thinking that I need to push myself to check it out myself, and even though I wasn't panicky because of the meds, I didn't want to fight the fear. I mean, the normal fear. I didn't want to push myself.
so you asked yourself why.
of course. and I realized that these phobias of mine...well, many of them are things my friends and family have adapted to. and because I'm so phobic, they do these things for me. I can't depend on my parents, or even my family- really, for emotional support and real connection, but I know that they'll order food for me or check something out when I can't bring myself to do so. I know that they'll do those things for me, and even though I must have been through this "it's better to take care of myself, and people will still find ways to be there for me" issue a thousand times, it's back. and I don't want to give them up. I don't want to give them up, even if I don't it means suffocating in D!@#$%^ for the rest of my life. because I don't know how else to feel loved. because I don't know how else to let my parents in and still feel safe.
keep going, sweetie.
it isn't fair, you know? it really isn't fair. because I know I can do it- I could be me, I could be safe, I could fight all this, I could have relationships- if I could just have that safe, loving, comfortable place. and I don't mean comfortable in the sense of risk-free/ challenge-less...I just mean, a soft place to lie when I'm feeling hurt. I mean comfort as in, a well-placed chocolate shake really does help calm the tears, and a well-placed friendling really does help said tears seem less horrible. I just want that. I want that place so badly, and yet, I'm staying farther away from it by hanging onto these behaviors. because I want some form, any form, of it now. and I know they love me! I know it! I hear it, I take it in. I know there are people who read this journal who really do care and who really do worry and who really do love. is there something wrong with me that that isn't enough? that I need more? is there something wrong with me that my friends tend to be states away, or get lost in their own lives and overlook how much I need them in mine? what is it? what is it that says you can love me one minute and go away the next? what is it that says you can save my life and walk out of it? how do they do that? how do they just move on? I can't handle it anymore; I just can't, and if my parents are all I can have now (maybe all I'll ever have), then I can't lose these little bits of dependency. I can't lose these sure-fire, yes you can do this, yes I will do this, things. oh, I can't let them touch me, and they can't hear about my life, my identity, my pain, but at least they can make the phone call I can't bring myself to do. it's not just that I'm afraid. it's that I need these things. I need these little expressions that say, "hey, I'm here. I'll take the load a bit."
and I know I can do it on my own. I know I can. I know that it's better that way, and I can call people in, and they'll actually know what to do. but they leave. don't you get it? they leave. they never stay. I can't explain how long it's been since I've heard from Mandy, how lost I feel talking to Chas, to Brooke...my God, I haven't heard from Scott since the play. how do people just fall out of my life, and how can it *not be me* when everyone in my life seems to? when my friends asked me to get together, and I took them up on it, I took two (three?) days to get back to them with a firm plan. in that time, they didn't call, they didn't e-mail, and they made other plans. "oh, we didn't hear from you, so we're going ice skating." and I'm devastated, even though it wasn't really *them* I wanted to see; it was just *someone.* I'm devastated because I know I'm not that forgettable. I know I'm not that worthless. I know this is what I need, but I can't do it. I can't make myself a family out of construction paper and sticky-tak. I can't make myself a home in this fucking wasteland. I can't be safe in the meantime; I just can't.
you will.
don't you know I know that? don't you know I'll do it? I'll do it everyday until the end of time, not because I couldn't go back- I could- I could so fucking be a screwed-up bulimarexic codependent depressive anxious freak for the rest of my life. I could so slip right now and just be done. I could focus on the fact that Sara could hate me, Sara could be so sick right now, and Tracy's gone - even though I know she's not really gone, but Rogers is... maybe Rogers is. oh, well, I'll never know because I can't contact them, and what the fuck, how does this happen, how on earth do people- do all people- manage to leave?
they promise. and I get that. I get that people actually think, and plan, and maybe even will stay in my life for the next how ever many decades. but a fucking e-mail isn't enough. a fucking phone call with the high school gossip doesn't fill me inside. I don't have any more than that. why am I back on IM every day- because there isn't anywhere else to go. because there isn't any other way to do it. because making the call myself would go against my phobias, and if I lose them, no one will show their love for me without a keyboard and a modem in between.
and it's horrible to write this here because damnit, you are all people who can only communicate that way, and people that I love getting e-mail and notes from, and Jesus those things sustain me, but I don't want to survive, I want to be free. I want to go home, even though I don't know where it is. I'll know it when I feel it, and I need it now.
why now?
because I'm dying. because it hurts so badly, and I know that's showing me I'm alive- I know- but I don't feel like I can stand this pain. he said I could walk across hot coals if I put my mind to it, but it's only worth doing if there's something really spectacular on the other side. so, tell me? where is it? where is home? is it on the other side of this emotional upheaval, this self-doubt, this pain, this abandonment, this exile? is it on the other side of graduation, on the other side of the act, on the other side of phobia-fighting and leaving home? is it out there at all? is there anyone set up, wired, the way they need to be to love me? is there anyone out there who can take me in and put up with me, whether it's a good day or a sick day or a day that's back and forth so fast it's hard to tell?
I want to go home. I want to go to Rogers minus the hospital part. minus the illness. this time I want to have that just because I'm me and I'm loved. this time I want to have home without having illness. and that means the phobias, too. I know. I know that means the phobias, too. but who the fuck will hold me while I grieve them?
chord
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