calling myself mommy instead of baby

Monday, January 8, 1996
9:10pm, home

Absolutely broke down in Judith‘s office today, crying and crying and feeling a lot of pain. Admitted that I’d had fantasies of suicide again on Sunday, that I’d felt so awful I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to live for so long that way and how much I knew I wasn’t out of the woods. Still crying as I left, leaned my head against the wall in the hallway and thought, mommy. Thought about calling myself mommy instead of baby.

Just did some recording with Seth. Sick of almost everything I’ve written, which I told him. I don’t really perform any of it anymore. I just want to publish/record it and make way for the new stuff.

Just remembered, dramatic scene with Maddy and Davis right before I left tonight. Him telling her his ex-wife was there to pick him up from work. She was crying. I just want to be left out.

Oh, I feel guilty. Oh Christ, I’m so stuck in the mommy thing. Judith said I’d be done before I was 30. Will it take me until 30 to be okay? I’ve decided I don’t want to wait that long. I want to feel okay today.

Did feel so much better after Ted called. So scared I’ve blown it and he’s going to walk away. How easy would it be for him to walk away. How much is he still wanting, comparing, thinking about the times he had with Lauren?

The anthropology of the ex-girlfriend. “Meanwhile, in Brooklyn…”

Deluded. Get real with myself. Was realizing how much I hide and waste time with Ted’s friends, though it is nice to feel like there is a quantity of friendly people around.

I love looking at Noah. He is so gorgeous and his body is so tight. I love the tattoo on his arm. It’s great to be able to admire him with no shirt on weekend mornings. Something to aesthetically appreciate. Ridiculous. Pleasure, though. I take pure pleasure in a lot about him.

Spending time with my brother on NY Eve was good. Mellow, thank god, especially considering how fucked up I’d been feeling that morning. At times, he and I were just quiet, riding the subway, standing in line. He said he likes to get all snugly under a blanket and watch a movie with food. Also, when it’s raining, but you’re in the car. Basically, he likes to feel safe and warm.

He didn’t really want to get into the whole “our mom is insane” conversation I’m always so dying to have. I was so different at his age, though. It’s hard to tell who he really is. I mean, why should he trust me?

Wednesday, January 10, 1996
8:15am, train

I need to take a writing class just to get some work out of it. I can’t stand not writing new stuff.

I should see if Eileen Myles is running a workshop anytime soon. I miss Mona Simpson, even though she was sort of out of her mind. I did envy her life. Two books, huge hits, acclaim, acclaim, teaching positions, huge Upper West Side apartment, new baby, cool nanny. Have to say, it looked good.

I could have that. All I need is to write the books. And I have written before.

What will help me make the most radical mental changes? Just flashed on Ted. He seems to have his whole coping shell working fine. Talking about existential terror the other night, the idea that his own existence will cease completely and you go away. Good bye forever. Those moments, to him, are unbearable. “Everything hates you. The walls hate you, the table, the air hates you.” I really knew how he felt.

I love feeling close to other people. It disproves that everybody is a selfish, maniacal asshole like some people we could all name, backwards, in cuneiform, in sign language, using semaphore flags.

Oh, the way I’ve acted. Somewhat afraid I’ve been a jerk re skipping St. Marks on New Year’s. I can’t have been the only one. Hey, it’s not that big a deal.

I don’t think so much of other people’s talent that I’ll get self-conscious about mine. My material is solid. There’s no need to self-deprecate and I can even sit down on the bench at Broadway/Lafayette to finish my thoughts. Yes, I smoked this morning, but this is still me. Cramping, bleeding, unshowered. Don’t feel like dealing with mopey Maddy today. Hope she takes a sick day.

God, stop it. Stop dwelling in it. It’s not yours. You have your own to deal with. You will be fine and so will she. The best thing you can do is be an example, not pompous.

Stop always tearing me down. Don’t always tear me down, build me up. It’s enough. I’m tired of being put down and I want to have good things in my life like self love.

To read the girl bomb diaries in chronological order, click here.