9:15 p.m. - 11/30/02
home from so far...)
I really do feel that if my parents weren't here, even D!@#$%^ could be liveable. I feel like it could be my Walden, although I can't imagine choosing to withdraw from society so fully as I do living in this place. But this morning, working slowly at an endless "creative writing" project (which, to add insult to injury, was also pointless), listening to the same music my family insults me over, I started to believe I could evolve- even here. Maybe it has something to do with all the love finding its way into my inbox lately. There are so many people in this world to find and hang onto, and that gives me hope. I feel a bit like I've been exiled, but at least I have people who peek through the bars and call across the desert now and then.
The day fell apart somewhat when my parents came home. They'd taken my dad's car for repairs, as the brakes are unhappy and unhappy brakes are worrisome, and done some Christmas shopping. When they came home, somewhat earlier than expected, they both looked like prisoners of war, and a dull comment I made about, "looks like you had a great time" led to more information than I really wanted at the time. My dad nearly passed out again. His blood pressure is bottoming out, and he looks like he can't hold himself up. He's shivering. And the worst part, perhaps, is that it sickens me. I look at him, and I'm just like, pull yourself together; quit playing up the illness. I'm mad at him for being sick. I blame him for it. I think, "if you took care of yourself, it wouldn't be this way." And he didn't go to the emergency room, which angered me, and with mom leaving later for the doc, I'd be responsible for him through the evening. It angered me because I can't handle being responsible for him, and if he doesn't take care of himself, I have to be. It angered me because I try so hard not to caretake, and then he presents this situation where it seems like I'll have to. I argued it instead, until doctors were called and plans made. He ate dinner, thank God (a good way to piss Mary off is to get sick out of your own carelessness and then quit eating because of it.) The man is skipping meals again which makes me nuts. Diabetic compulsive overeaters should not skip meals. It will only make him sick and make him binge. And I am angry, even though I'm also terrified and hurt and scared. I want him to be well really really badly, and he's still my daddy and I love him desperately- but honestly? I'm also mad. I watched him fall in and out of consciousness for a year, and I'm not over it yet. I'm not over the fact that he taught me how to give away my power and depend on other's for each and every move. I'm not over the fact that he still does this. I'm sick of being ahead, even though I have them to thank for the head's up. Again that question: do you learn more from the parent's who teach you what to do or the ones who teach you what not to?
By the time Joe arrived for the Thanksgiving-equivalent, I was desperately tired (not helped by two nights of nightmares and one of insomnia) and stressed beyond the breaking point. I promised myself that I would journal tonight, that I would open my package and take in the love there, and that I would find time for me. I took a shower, also, which I had put off throughout the day. Now I feel all clean just before bed, and since I usually shower in the morning that is a nice treat. With some stuffed animals, my bed will reach the point of almost safe.
I sent an e-mail to Dale this morning apologizing for the rather rotten comment I made in the heat of a moment. I did it, largely, to show myself that I had violated my own ethics, and did not have to do so. I did it to say, "what I did was not ok with me, but I acknowledge that, and I do not have to hold a grudge against myself because of this." Dale, of course, angered me further with his response, which completely went against the grain of what I'd just expressed with him. But honestly, it doesn't bother me much. I'm proud of doing what I need to do. Keep remembering my name. I'll find my way eventually.
I'm helped along by the kindness of my familiars. By the e-mail and the letters and the music. I did open my package today, and listened to the Alice Ripley tape inside, and even though I grew up being told not to, and am still being told not to, like such music, I still did. I still lost my breath and chilled at "Pieces" and curled up listening to "Violet Tree." I wish they could accept me, but more so, I wish I could be strong enough in who I am to not be affected by their opinion. Much. And I think the second one is possible, so I make it a goal.
There are so many people to love if you can shut out your parents' voices long enough. The other night at John's I dreamt that I'd gone back to Red, and Dave- who I'd hardly call gentle, even if I have been won over after all- touched his hands to my cheeks in a way that can only be described as gentle. I had come back, and was slightly annoyed by all the residents (who were like ten, and worried about gaining weight, and completely unlike the residents I truly shared my time with) and I was upset because I felt like a failure being back. I was crying and telling him that I really had tried; I really had put all my effort into getting better and I hadn't done this on purpose, and he touched my cheeks and told me how he knew. His eyes were pure forgiveness, purely future with the relation of the past/present. I just want that in my waking hours. That sort of unconditional closeness and respect.
I think, honestly, I have it. But I want to experience it every day in several places. I want to have more of it than I do not, and I want to go to sleep at night in a place that feels like home.
The more I say what I need, the less outlandish it all seems. The closer I come toward freedom.
I still have to talk about how the flowers inside us grow seeds and how there are mirrors to my pain that nearly balance it. But if I say it all now, what will I do with tomorrow's words? I have to have some way to survive the rest of my cw project and a visual aid on Austria.
so very much love-
chord
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