9:55 p.m. - 03/16/03
warriors like me.
It's hard to breathe again this morning. Something's in the way, and I can never be sure if I'm the one who put it there or what it is. Hopefully the processed sort of words will come more easily...
And no one is commenting on the new design which doesn't look that bad on my computer. Aigh. I asked for help at the end of the last entry. I don't take the silent treatment well. I do much better- really- with what people have said than what they haven't...
Why, just this morning, I received a response from quote garden respectfully disagreeing with my perspective on their women's quotes section and certain entries in the dieting section, and I was all cool with it. Obviously, I feel best when people respectfully *agree* with me about these things, but I received an in-depth response, which shows me that zie thought about this sincerely, and appreciated my thought as well. In fact, zie said, "I wish there were more people like you - ones who take the time and trouble and who care enough to try to improve things. The world would be a much better place if everyone cared this much." Did you hear that? I've been thinking I'm the scum of the world (again) for days, and it turns out I'm bettering the world. Well, that's a nice twist.
That's one of the reasons I like this (potential) layout. It gives me the right to not be ok. Somehow, I need permission for that right now.
So, last night I picked up a (brand-new) copy of Live's V for eight bucks, which I am listening to now. (We won't go into the shopping drama; it's already so well documented.) There are a few tracks that make it worthwhile, other than those I knew (People Like You, Overcome, and Call Me A Fool), and I haven't started crying yet, which impresses me. The first and last of the tracks I knew are ones Dave played for us at Rogers, and the last is one I majorally associate with Tracy, so, it's impressive. I actually didn't cry at my session yesterday either. I don't think that's been the case in weeks (literally, and I see him twice each week. Dear.) I had a much harder time not crying back in our driveway, a couple hours later, sitting in John's black truck (the sweet boy saved me from having to wait around through my parents' appointment, which considering they're fights have gotten *more* volatile lately, was very, very good), listening to his newest album. Twenty seconds into the last track, he told me that it's dedicated to me, and I was like, "Well, then, shut up; I want to hear it even more." (Sister for, "Awwww, really? Then, shush!") Then he added, "Actually, I wrote it after I heard about your roommate...so it's dedicated to you and her." Did you read that? Read that again. Did you read that? The boy wrote a song for Tracy. God, I love him. I would have kissed him, but I didn't know where to place it. So I just hugged him really hard, twice, and thanked him for it (twice.) That boy, that boy. I wish he didn't understand so well...and I'm so grateful that he shares what he does.
I told him that if he burned me an early-release, I would still pay for a copy of the official one. So maybe he'll hook me up with that. And then I'll hook up Sara, who's been listening to some of his tracks to help her through...I know she'll freak when she finds out he wrote one specifically about this. He talked with me last night about the walls he has up, and how girls want to get inside, and once they do they leave, and confirm the reasons for the walls. I told him that must be why I don't understand how other people see him. I have the honor of being inside those walls, so I *know* who my brother is; I know how entirely sweet and protective and kind he is. And the fact that other people see him so differently boggles my little mind.
But I'm not in the mood to talk about what I don't understand, or what I see differently from the rest of the world. We spent a good portion of the session on that (specifically on what I see differently than the rest of my family, why I see it that way, etc)- and then at the end he said that my inability to understand was similar to their inability to understand me, and I was like, "No! Don't say that! I don't want to be doing this to people." He tried to tell me it's not something I do to anyone, but I don't think that sunk in deeply enough. I could feel his, "See you Wednesday?" starting to surface, so I told him, "I feel like there are all these plates spinning in the air, and as soon as I walk out of here, they're going to fall on my head." (We talked a little, earlier, about how many subjects we're juggling, and how even though they're connected, it's hard. Yesterday's session was mainly history- how I felt in grade school, etc- which, with so much going on in the present, was difficult.) He paused for a moment and then said, "They probably will." And I nearly threw a pillow at him. (There are no pillows. So this would have been difficult.) Instead, I said, "That is so not what you were supposed to say." And he said, "What good are plates if you don't get to throw them into the air and spin them around occasionally?" and I said, "they're perfectly good. I think plates are perfectly fine even if they *never* fall on your head." It just scares me because I don't particularly want to need to call him before Wednesday, and there's a lot up right now. The relationshit, the identity pain, the family issues, the prospective family issues (as I develop an identity), the phobias, the home-missing, the grief, the this and that and blah and blech and bloog. So. Much. Oh, well. I'll make it to Wednesday one way or another. And those two choices will not include less food or any other thing I would have done two years ago. I'll make it myself, without the "help" of any silly illness.
I don't think "silly" will ever be the proper descriptor for disease.
Not a bad session, really. We laughed a lot. As did John and I, on our drive back. I told the doc again not to use "home" and D!@#$%^ as if they were synonyms, and he was correcting himself simultaneously, which is good. I make the same mistake, so I don't jump all over him for it, but I need that to be clear. When we talk about leaving D!@#$%^, we are talking about leaving D!@#$%^. We are talking about leaving my parent's home(?). If anything, I'd like to hope we're talking moving *closer* to mine.
Speaking of, Silje called (yeay yeay yeay) yesterday, and we're both going to move to Wisconsin sometime soon. I know I'm supposed to be moving to Canada, but they border each other, right...? So, I'll find a way to make it work.
I need to take meds now, before I suffocate under my own lungs.
chord
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