7:30 p.m. - 11/20/02
a secret rodeo.
yesterday morning, I found an eyelash on my cheek, and I wished to feel loved during the day. generally speaking, my wishes are far more specific, but I wished this anyway...and yesterday, things just kept happening to make me feel like the world was all bright and star-like. it's odd, when "happiness" in your life has been the somewhat manic offspring of anxiety, to calmly feel joy. to feel joy while hanging onto the awareness that life is not purely good. it's odd to sometimes feel horrible in wonderful situations, and wonderful in horrible ones. because you made the decision to so and today your seratonin is obliging. because you honor all your feelings even as you page through them for one that feels right in that moment, at that time.
yesterday morning, my dad came home and handed me an envelope, inside of which were two tickets to my first-ever tori amos concert, at which I will do my very best not to suffer cardiac arrest. oh, dear god - tori. I can't remember now if I wrote about it here, but Tori reminds me of Rogers in a way; the relation reminds me of Red. or rather, of what doctor r. told me about red- that I might never experience that intensity of relation again simply because I will hopefully never *need* it again. he calls what they did "breathing the life breath back into" me, and of course, our hope is that I will not die that way again. or any other way, that does not involve me being 412 and all gung-ho about the afterlife. it reminds me of when I heard Tori, when I used to sit on the bus thinking to myself over and over that the day was going to be ok because in a few moments, I would be home and could listen to Little Earthquakes. she's one of the main reasons I survived junior high, a statement I mean rather literally. and I guess...since then I've found artists who have more to say about my present experience, artists who speak passionately about what I have passion for, who open doors to worlds I didn't know I needed then. but Tori...she's always the first. she's always the one who could help me out of bed in the morning and let me sleep at night...
I may very well have to remedy the fact that Dr. R has never heard her. he is such a deprived humanoid. ergh. I may very well have to go in next week and say, "ok. you don't have to borrow this, but I brought it in case you wanted to borrow it. and you don't have to like it; you just have to know that this is how I stayed alive in middle school. because that girl has just as much a right to know you as I do." I think there's another side to my idea of "I keep a little child from going through this pain because I am healing the pain I couldn't feel as a child." I think the other side means being grateful for those girls at such young ages who did survive. who made it through impossibilities. I speak in metaphor so often, but I really do think so much of my experience has been survival... even down to the point of why I lost my vision the same year that I quit speaking (see no evil...speak no evil...) and why I went temporarily deaf in sixth grade. I think there's real importance in the fact that I can unconsciously blur my focus of the world even through my glasses, that I have to remind myself to look at the world in a way that keeps it steady, not so that it blends. I'm grateful for so many of these survival powers I have cultivated, but I need to be able to balance them. by putting the same amount of weight on the opposite end. by having piercingly clear vision. four eyes is four times the insight after all.
I'm grateful for them, yes. gratitude is a very odd concept to me. I posted something at sf about my gratitude for being in recovery, and it had a really overwhelming, lovely response. I had some people thank me for reminding them to be grateful, and that struck home for me because I have, within the past few months even, absolutely hated the concept of gratitude. I despise the idea of being happy about situations that suck, and I suppose that's what I equate the new-age, self-help movement of "gratitude" with...I think that's why graffirmations only served to highlight those experiences in my day that brought good feeling (no small task)- not to provide any sense of hope or fulfillment themselves. because the idea of being grateful throughout absolute torture is a horrid thought. and I oppose it.
so I wrote a gratitude post. trying to balance all the negativity on the board recently. it was really bothering me that everything was about weight and food and how this person or that person simply couldn't do this anymore. blah. I waited a few days for someone to turn it around, and when no one did, I decided, "Such books as make us happy, we could- if need be- write ourselves" and posted my own feelings. like I said, the response was great, actually rather affirming (ha- gratitude and affirmation team again...) but even greater is that my honesty in that post has extended beyond my good mood. unlike reading old graffirmations, which at most make me smile at temporarily misplaced memories, the post can remind me of something I've only begun to learn: that I am not grateful for the sucky things. I'm grateful that I have the ability to feel them. because no matter how much pain I'm in, I know it's worse to not feel, or to feel the swell of mood disorder. because even though my voice is shaky, after two years of being all-but mute, the smallest sound I make in the day is golden to my life. after two years of barely ever being touched, the handshake that ends my once-a-week real conversation feels like such a gift. and yes, I want more; I deserve more. but hating my life provides no real reason to relapse. hating my life is only fuel to move out of it.
someone said I should print a copy of the post, which I think is a good idea. I should probably also post it here, so I can find it when my room and brain are trashed and there's little I can do to concentrate. it's easier to search a diary than a bedroom...
one rough point with the post: I started to feel overly-affirmed, i.e. dependent on their affirmation. I mean, I still have these two very distinct drives, one of which says, "hey, let's lie down on a ball, paralyzed or twitching, and have everyone rush to our side" while the other offers "hey! what do you say we just run run run to the top of the mountain because as we achieve absolutely everything worth absolutely anything everyone will be exalting us and that's like LOVE almost, so what do you say?" I lose myself in both regards, in no small part because I deny the opposite extreme. I need people to know that I am at any given moment working a vigorous program of growth and recovery and desperately wishing I was a vegetable/ puppy. until I know it strongly for myself, I need others to know.
I went out last night with my parents (I *must* determine whether my head crashes in as a result of being out, as a result of being out after dark, or as a result of being out with my family), and I struggled with that fu*king must-have-everything syndrome again. I so do not understand that. I mean, I understand it...I try to fill the perceived void of who I am and how I feel with things and/or I try to manipulate the situation so that I can have a feeling I have not been allowed to have. example: I ask for something. My parents say no. I pout and fume and stomp my toddler foot. My parents give in. I still feel like pouting and fuming and stomping said foot but now can't because I supposedly got what I wanted. Except what I really wanted was the right to feel. it's a weird scenario, but I know it's right. sometimes, I really want the right to have needs, so I try to make it clear to myself I do by making my parents buy me things, and sometimes, I want to be able to have feelings, so I try to feel that through getting turned down. but their guilt (or whatever other feeling) or my guilt keeps that emotion from happening fully. so, yes I understand it; I simply don't understand how to change it, and I hate it so. you do understand that on top of this I end up fighting back tears because I feel like a "capitalist pig"? I am not a material girl. I like what sustains me: music, books, stickers for my stationery...but I do not need 600 pairs of shoes. I end up feeling less like myself when I do this because I don't identify as a girl who would enjoy shopping. or perhaps I end up feeling poor afterward because I've never let myself identify, even in a small way, as that girl.
you f*cking people. I tried so hard to be exactly what you wanted...
where else is there to go inside my scrambled head? ah, yes. between the posting and the outing. you'll never guess. you'll absolutely never guess. a phone call...from Silje...which scared me a bit, as I had heard from her so recently and with not-so-good news about a friend in critical condition. I was worried she was calling to update me in a way that might necessitate a phone call. maybe she knew I knew this (telepathy, you know?) because pretty much the first words out of her mouth were, "I'm calling with good news." and before I could even breathe in full relief I had found out that Silje- my Silje- is going to be in the States in 2 1/2 weeks. 2 and 1/2 weeks. aigh!!! I am excited beyond words, though I'm also terrified. ambivalence rocks, let me tell you. but about seeing her, I'm absolutely thrilled. last we talked, there was the smallest possibility she'd be able to make this trip in the spring; now she's going to be here before I barely have time to cure the cold that ravages me so...(previously mentioned brain-scrambblage can be blamed on said cold.) I was absolutely giddy.
and then this morning Sara called. no, really, it happened just that way. I was only starting to wake up, and I could barely speak because my throat hurt, and she started telling me all of these wonderful things about how she's been so busy but really wants to talk to me, and how she's absolutely going to call this weekend. how she loves me and I'm in her pocket and all that other we-are-so-sisters stuff. I am so so so so so so grateful in a non new-agey way for her. oop. I could just explode with all the loving.
and gosh, there's still more- there's the appointment with Dr. R...anything fun and exciting to relay regarding that? let's see; sitting in the waiting room feeling like my head was going to explode (smooth jazz is a tool of the devil), switching chairs to make myself feel like time was passing, giving him the renew-the-homebound form, (last week when he said something about me needing new relationships, "you don't mean school right?" "no. not school. our options are so much wider than that" or something equally relieving), going into his office, sitting down, making actual eye-contact for half-a-second and then being pissed that I couldn't keep it going, as well as that he wouldn't talk. he started. how? oh, yes.
"so I'm purposefully not responding to your e-mail." (I had asked him not to in the note- which was a thank you for getting through all my defenses last week, since I so needed to talk, and couldn't seem to make it happen.)
with a shy-but-silly smile: "thanks."
"but...if we were to talk about...on the larger level...say you were to e-mail a friend to say thank you for something. and she were to respond. what might make that feel difficult?"
he is *such* a therapist; I swear that know so many loopholes, it's unreal. I didn't have trouble explaining it, though, so I did. "it's just that saying thank you means indirectly implying that a need has been met, which means indirectly implying that I have needs in general, which is still really hard for me." as he reframed- it's easier to have people aware that something is true than to directly say it's so. last week I needed to say something that in all likelihood he was already aware of: that I was grateful for the way we work together. and that was difficult because I'm not supposed to need anything (says stupid annoying irritating nobody-loves-YOU-you-fucker ed.)
then he asked how my week had been, and I said interesting because there had been some really marvelous things and some really difficult things and some really marvelous things that were difficult, and we laughed about the absolute complication I manage to find my way into despite being exiled to D!@#$%^. he asked which group brought up the most intense images, and I told him their relative equality was part of what is making things so difficult. it's difficult to be on a rollercoaster, yes, but is it harder to be at the top, the bottom, and speeding between the two at the same time? I didn't really know which to pick, where to start, how to make it work. he asked about the good without any difficulty, so I told him I had Tori Amos tickets and Sara had called. I was left with the desperate reality that he is Tori-deprived (how does this happen?) which I managed to balance with an abridged history of her life and our ever-so-serious loveship. still, as mentioned, I may need to part with my copy of Little Earthquakes temporarily to introduce him to my junior high world. although that could lead to the more desperate situation of, "and you have heard Ani, right? and Dar Williams? and Winter Machine- who no one in the fucking world has heard of, but of course YOU have?" Having no concept of what music he listens to, I actually think he'd like Winter Machine. But then I think everyone in the known world would like Winter Machine because why would you not? Coleman Lindberg and Sarah (Henry) Bishop rock my socks.
the problem-free good led into the problem-fortified good, which includes the glorious news about Silje's visit. he asked where she was flying into, where she'd stay, how we would see each other, only the first of which is firmly decided at this point. I'm waiting to hear from her to know better how to make plans, but as I told him- we're both very adamant that we have to see each other. and I'm sure, despite all my silly anxieties and tendencies to feel like hiding when I have the chance to feel really good connections with people, it will go wonderfully. (because it will happen. it has to happen.) the main part of what concerns me now is that we talked so often about doing a rap speak (red alumni gives talk to current residents) together, and I know she's ready to do it now. it's not that I don't feel ready to talk about my recovery; I think I'm at a place where I will always feel valid talking about it. as in, I could wait until I'm doing better, or you know, I could just talk *again* when I'm doing better, and then later, and all the time in between. as if I ever shut up about recovery. it'd be nice to have people to listen.
the million dollar question is am I ready to go back to Rogers so soon as in the next month, and that my friends, remains the mystery. it offers the incredibly brilliant opportunity to move forward with my "develop new relationships with (certain) Rogers-people, let go of Rogers-iteself" plan, with the notable difficulty of- no one said I wanted to do that *now.* I feel incapable of giving up the (uncertain) Rogers-people or Rogers itself without knowing very clearly that I have some of them in my life. and, dun-dun-dunnnh, I feel semi-incapable of giving it up anyway.
the loss of them..."would be annihilating." that's what Dr. R said, and he's right. it's the best word I've heard in months. they sustain me, the way a family, a tradition, a culture, a heritage sustain. and I know the loss of them in the here and now does not mean the loss of the past, but at this point, I'm not capable of believing that. firmly. I'm so afraid to risk losing it.
he asked what would happen if we postponed it. truthfully, we run the risk of losing important people, as there has already been crazy amounts of turnover since we left. and I know Silje is prepared to do it now. I know she would understand if I'm not, but honestly, I still want to do it with her. I don't want to miss that.
and then there are other thoughts. like...Silje will be here until the 21st. and what if I were to go up near the end of her visit, and meet with Sara as well? and what if Sara and I could spend the anniversary or near-anniversary together...maybe even go to Steven's Point and see
he didn't have any magic solutions for me. he didn't have any decisions either. should I go? should I speak? should I send the letter that I wrote to Dave? and the others I have yet to write? he told me that the stakes were truly high, that my anxiety was not a false sign. this truly is as huge as it feels, and I should make sure that I send the letters when I feel capable of accepting that risk. capable of understanding that, as he put it, it's very unlikely we will know more after a response (or lack of one) than we do at this point. it's very difficult to tell a person's motives, and so we may no as little about their feelings after hearing/ not hearing from them as we do now. I asked him of that complication is why I always make the reason into no one wants me...to simplify.
I said how it was like when I thought I lost Jenna, when I gave up because I thought that she couldn't handle me/ us for whatever reason, and maybe that was true, but maybe also her life was falling apart at the seams? and I wanted to hit myself a little because I called her "my friend"...and I was like...shit, now he's going to lose that vibe about there being more to this than I am telling. but maybe he's more perceptive than that. or maybe he's never had a vibe. *or maybe* I need to gather my voice, sore throat or no, and just come out with it. come out with my complete uncertainty and the desire to have a certain sexuality that is actually the desire to have one at all combined with the desire to have relationships...
I truly believe I would say who I am, if I knew...
we talked about my worst-case-scenario survival skills. how I prepare myself to be annihilated so that I will never be caught off guard. how, in the simplest of examples, I can't hope to get into Hampshire because hoping means I am bound to be knocked to the ground and trampled by rejection. (at the same time, if I am rejected it's my fault for not practicing positive thinking. gerp.) how this helps me, and at the same time, he suggests it may contribute to how high my stakes are with dear Red. he says that by believing that I will never have anything remotely that beautiful again, remotely that sustaining, that fulfilling, that genuinely marvelous, I make hanging onto them so much more necessary. and perhaps my need is not so much to hang onto them as to have relation, a thought I don't like so much as the former two, as it seems to downplay how important Red was. but it could be true, I know- maybe without downplaying Red's importance. after all, if Red were important for fulfilling that need, its importance becomes absolutely solid. the way Tori Amos is important, even though it feels weird to call her my "favorite artist" anymore. she cradled me in a time of absolute damnation...and...there's no taking that away. if I know it, if I can make it real, there's no taking that away. just have to keep practicing not blurring the eyes. inner or outer. just have to find a way to love and do so safely.
it's a thousand issues all in one, and yet at times, it seems it all comes down to this.
chord-the-brave
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