10:47 p.m. - 07/14/03
<:the taxi's waiting...he's blowing his horn::
How on earth did it get to be almost eleven o'clock? Aigh. I need it to be earlier. Anyone have a time machine handy?
Normally, I wouldn't really care that it's nearing eleven, considering I tend to not sleep at night anyway. (Last night that was true very, very - close to - literally. I slept in about ten minute intervals, during which I would dream that I was awake and people were in my room, and I tried to get their attention, but I couldn't talk. By the end of it all, I was not only sleep-deprived but really freaked out and too confused to tell if I was awake or asleep, anymore...) However, tomorrow, I need to finish a package and some other post (which is simply a far better word than "mail") and make my room scrutinizing-prospective-buyer-ready, pack, and calm my nerves by about noon. I just found out about an hour ago - cancel that, I decided an hour ago - to finally bite the bullet and visit my dad. I'm going to stay with him for approximately forty-eight hours. I think this is the best way to do it. I'll have time with him, but not an altogether huge amount of it (I'm nervous...) and the visit will end when he takes me to my appointment to the doc, instead of starting after it. That just seems like a better plan. Unfortunately, I won't have Internet or computer access for those two days, but I'm not a serious addict. I can quit anytime I want to. Seriously. Well, ok, no, I can't...but I can go two days.
I got far more done today than I expected to, considering I "woke up" late (having gone to sleep in the morning), and felt too tired and depressed to do anything other than sleep with the rest of the day. I took good care of myself, though - ate three balanced meals and showered (huge achievement that second one...sadly huge achievement) and found new energy. I did an impressive amount of corresponding (to the point that I'm *almost* caught up...but not really), including writing a very long-winded card to Sara, which is a good sign. I've been all nervous about talking with her since the last conversation when I became so (much more) upset, and cut it off early. I understand now how, simply, understandable that is, but I was a bit on-edge about it earlier. I really hope she understands and doesn't take it personally or think she's done something wrong. It's not the type of thing that either of us could have predicted, and now that I think I know what's going on, we have a better chance of working with it...I hope she sees it that way, too.
The way I understand it, what happened is this. She went back to Rogers, and I - very caught up in my homesickness - felt all my grief/ loss/ home-missing feelings heighten at the idea, even though I know I don't want to be in the hospital. (For the billionth time, wanting to be at Rogers is different than wanting to be in the hospital.) I knew I needed to work on home issues, and Sara knew I needed to do this also, and we both started thinking that her presence at Rogers could work to my advantage. She was really amazing about sharing with me the stories of what's going on there and the words of people I know. In part, that felt really, really good. But there was another part that felt really left out, really hurt, because I wasn't there to be a part of those things. It's similar to all those times I've thought about a floor full of girls I don't know being there and felt sick, forced myself not to think about it. It's too hard to consider other people interacting with them when I'm not, and I got so focused on my connection to them through Sara that I lost track of my connection to them, personally. I need to know that my relationship with them is steady before I hear about other people's connections. I can't have my only relationship to Rogers be (memories and) secondhand. I need to be in contact with them myself, at the same time I'm hearing about them from someone closer. Sara's being there is a gift, and it can be (and has been, at times) really good for me; I just need to take the responsibility for my own relationships and not depend on her entirely. Otherwise, the gift gets distorted into something painful.
So I need to call, like I did this week (yeay, yeay, yeay) and keep calling. If only something would happen to make it look as if I have something to say. Maybe I can tell the same old news to a different person. Still haven't spoken with Steph in ages. And did I mention I got an e-mail from Stacy? Whee... I start to think I'm floating; then I realize, I've just begun to breathe. I guess it's that rare, that magical, to me.
The scary entry has been up for over 24 hours, and I have yet to explode, disintegrate, or melt below the dirt. Also good.
Oh, and...I was officially referred to as "levelheaded." I have it in writing. If that's not reason to laugh clear and loud and long, I'm not really sure what is. Can I even be in the same sentence as levelheaded? Seriously? Oh! And Beth Ann called me. Whee. That was yesterday, and it was lovely. We talked about all sorts of things, and I have to read Sandra Cisneros because of it. She sounds a great deal like Katie (instant comfort), and she says I sound like a cousin of hers who has a Wisconsin accent. Oh, the thrill. The Wisconsin voice survives! Yeay! I liked how simple it was talking to her; she even said something about how non-socially-incapable I seemed. And I know that my social incapabilities come in other varieties, but that was still cool to hear. Plus, it's always fun to hear someone's voice for the first time - to have that weird, "I've never talked to you before, and you know everything about me" phenomenon going on. Lovely.
Tomorrow, I go to my dad's. Thursday, I see the doctor, possibly tell him how a five-second conversation with my cousin and a tv show I don't even watch managed to make me talk about something I haven't mentioned in eight years, and - joy of joys - return to D!@#$%^. Friday, Marybeth is coming to visit. Just less than a week later, Britt will be here. When did I get a social schedule? Eep!
chord
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