8:00 p.m. - 07/12/02
i want an attachment disorder.
dear red
I was going to call you, but the likelihood that I'd feel worse was just too much. that doesn't mean I'll never call again; you know I need you more than air these days. did you ever notice that there isn't a single story that isn't about people needing desperately to find home, to find safety and support, a sense of self and of solidarity? and you know, I found that in chapter seventeen, and all of a sudden, they're saying, "oh forget it until you're middle-aged. or when you die. when you die, you can go home again."
red, I'm starting to think my whole, "I can't go on because I'm leaving her behind" mantra is bullshit. I think she got there first. she did it. she found the one way to stay at home, when they told her it was over, time to discharge. is it safe to say she's my hero in that? not for dying, but for realizing how desperately she needed them and finding a way to make it stay. all I did was cry and beg and scream. all I did was refuse to pack. red, why didn't you hold onto me? why didn't you say, you know what, we *will* keep you. you will be the foster we adopt.
it should be allowed. matches like that. I could have interned, apprenticed, grown up among you, like a novice in a nunnery. I could have entered the family business, for Christ's sake, I could have followed in your footsteps, made you proud. so why is it like this? why do you show me love and drop me with a broken parachute into The Boonies- with a couple of loons who share an incomplete set of marbles? why do I have to be *alone* right now? I mean *really alone* not just *feeling* alone, the way I did for so many years? why do I have to see that life is still not fair when I found utopia on earth? I could be happy; here I'm not even sure I can survive. how is it possible? to survive and not completely lose yourself?
I am a bulimarexic anxious depressive with parents who are either gone or screaming, a sister who hasn't a clue who I am and is confused in her direction of a play I wrote, whose roommate in treatment is just Gone, and in the meantime, is *seventeen* years old. I mean, Christ. Any one of these things would be enough, right? Recovery is hard enough, living with psycho parents is hard enough, struggling with someone you love, grieving, becoming an "adult" - these things are all hard enough without the other ones thrown in, so why in the *hell* am I expected to deal with all of them at once- oh, and just for an added bonus, let's deal with them *on my own?*
I have the most amazing people. People who read this journal, people who live states away. People who have once hugged me, people I have never seen. People who make me fight down the bad days, and people whose absence creates them. I have *so much support* and I am living in a place without any of it. The only reprieve from my insanity is Superdoc, and I'm expected to go 14 days without talking to him- 14 days *during which* I will be with The Sister Who I'm Struggling With, seeing The Play I Wrote As Tracy Was D*ing. why can't I just go *home?*
when I was little I used to sit on my bed and cry and say that I wanted to go home. I used to freak out halfway through the phrase because I would realize I already was. and now I understand it, now I know that what I was experiencing, no matter how much I love my family and how unwilling I am to sever those ties, was not *home*...and now I have a taste of what it could be and I can't go back. I mean, what is that?
if there is another dimension to the universe, this must be what it feels like to be born. to have the whole unconditional loving world at your feet and have someone say, "hey. go be human. go check out earth."
this is like being in high school and having no idea how long until graduation, if it will even come at all...
I want to say I love you, but I'm afraid you won't understand, and that will hurt.
chord
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