people stunned like bells

Saturday, January 4, 1997
7pm, train

It’s evening and I’m going to Biblio’s to Fat Rabbit’s to hang out with friends, such as they are.  And aren’t I down on everything, aren’t I down?  Not so bad, considering the situation.  Not so good, considering how bad I feel.

Slept at Frank’s last night, kept cuddling and kissing each other in our sleep. So close. My standards are low, I guess.  My expectations are low because what I see around me confirms this. People stunned like bells, unable to do anything but stand, shivering and making noise.

Oh, the disappointment. I said that I would see my mom tomorrow. Oh, woe is me! One is crazy and the other one’s mean. And I used to wonder at my bad luck, how I got two out of two. But insane people stick together. A sane man wouldn’t have married her, a sane woman wouldn’t have married him. It makes sense. And I’m their child. No, I’m not, I’m related to them but I’m not a child.

Judith is right. I’m saved because I got out of there. First to the shelter and then again when I was seventeen and moved out. And they let me, how odd.  Living on my own as a senior in high school, what in the world?  And yet, yes, it saved me.  I haven’t lived with either of them for almost ten years.

I don’t think I really recognized that, that’s great. I’ve been on my own for years.

On my way to Fat Rabbit because it’s something to do and I sucked my thumb today because I felt so bad. Just looked over the book and realized it’s been bad for over a week. Well, okay, good to know.

Broke down over the phone with Frank today. Felt sad this morning, he had to go to work and what about me? He can’t handle too much at one time.  He’s trying to be there and is really a source of comfort. Just that he doesn’t fully get it. He says that he walks around with his first two toes crossed most of the day.

Sunday, January 5, 1997
12pm, train

I need to remember that pot is not my friend, it doesn’t help. It promises to help but it freaks me out, especially at times like these. Going to see my mom and Jake, cutting it close with the trains. Not feeling well, in general, but still okay.

See, this is why pot doesn’t help. Too much anxiety, back and forth over issues. Well, I won’t be high by the time I see them or not very. There’s no comfort to be derived from seeing my mom except that it’s familiar. Which is somehow a comfort. Even familiar awfulness is attractive because I know it, and it feels like a part of me. Which it’s not.

Boy, I feel like crap. The weekend is no respite from the week, nor the week a haven from the weekend.  Usually my weekends are better, this one was kind of bleh. Between Arlene’s Grocery and Fat Rabbit, I had the sense of not knowing why I was going places. And being no happier to be there than any place else. Less happy because it meant trying to think of things to say to people I feel uncomfortable around, id est, everyone I know.

And I just had one iota of that sense I used to have, to the exclusion of all other senses, yesterday seeking comfort from Frank over the phone and hearing him type in the background. This sense that everyone will fail you on purpose, or out of not trying hard enough.

But it was minor, so minor, and I know he tries as much as he can try. That he is challenging himself all the time to live up to me. What arrogance on my part, to “live up to” what I want, need, and coming to expect. I value him very much especially right now. I find myself still very attracted to him on many levels and thinking right now about sex.

Tomorrow I start throwing my weight around a little more. Get the engineer’s job back, delegate a bunch of shit to Galinsky. Stay calm, don’t smoke during lunch, don’t hang out with Hil. She’s still on and off with J and it makes me angry and bored. I don’t want the things I used to, always wanted a man to break down and admit terrible love for me.  But still want people to say good things about me when I’m not in the room, still love to think people talking positively about me.

A note I wrote to my dad on the pad by the bed: I am right and you are wrong. I don’t need a mediator to verify that and neither should you. If you are angry at me, it’s because I’m trying to get you to be accountable. When you are ready to admit that, you’ll feel a whole lot better.

Here are things that will hurt: Suppressing things for too long, allowing too many people to come at me at once, and acting like my father. These are things that will help: My notebook, taking a walk, saying excuse me for a moment and going to bathroom to cry, being gentle with myself and others. Using the word “whatever” as a grenade against bullshit, fantasizing good times ahead, and leaving a message for Harriet.

Good, it’s already working.  Well, the moods will swing but I’ll deal. So good, keep writing it out, getting it out. Helping, it’s helping.