she’d want me to kill her
Wednesday, January 8, 1997
10:40am, train
No hot water, house a mess, no quarters for laundry. Been working so hard for the wrong things. Spinning with self doubt, lack of trust in myself, loneliness, sadness, confusion. Totally unmotivated to make myself feel better. Totally want to feel better though.
Oh, the unfairness that constantly exists. The constant struggle. Everybody’s pain. The sick woman on the train smacking herself in the face with frustration. All the fucking details of my life, which sucks and is empty, except for this job and all its side projects, which suck and are empty, and I feel like hell, and admitting it is good, and reinforcing it probably doesn’t help, and having other people acknowledge it is disempowering and scary and frustrating, because they can’t do anything about it, because they all suck.
I’m horribly depressed. Everything is rotten. Missed my session with Judith yesterday and won’t have one for a week now. That made me stop and cry because I realized the person that means the most to me right now isn’t in it because I mean so much to her, but because I’m her job.
And I know I need to get this out so it stays away. I know I need to get it outside of me, and I know how much stronger I am than I was, and how much stronger I can be, and how lonely it is to be strong, and how sick I am of imaginary arguments with Galinsky or Josh. How tired and confused I am, and I need help, and my help is unavailable to me.
But writing is one of the ways I help myself so I’m getting help right now. Stay in touch with myself, recognize how I helped them shit on me. A little high. Fucking tipped right over and ready to stay tipped for a while if it will get me through.
When, when will things get better? When? I have nothing to hope for or look forward to.
Just don’t know where anything belongs. Most of all myself, don’t know where I belong and my stomach hurts. I’ll be okay. That’s the important thing to know. I can carry myself well, honestly, and if my anger or disappointment shows, well, my anger and disappointment are warranted.
I trust myself. I’m not going to sell myself out anymore. What does that mean in terms of Frank? It means I can enjoy the benefits of it now but the drawbacks are too many. I feel like real caring and trust is being built there and if it’s slow, okay, maybe it should be. Oh, my gut.
I can’t be manipulated because I don’t want to be. I cannot be lied to successfully because my bullshit meter is too well calibrated. I can get frustrated but I can always work through the problem. I can just keep plugging away with a new strategy. You win some and lose some but know that I’m doing the right thing for myself. I am right. I’m on top of my shit. I will prevail. People who are wrong and fucked up and weaselly will not be able to be as effective as me. The truth will out.
Friday, January 10, 1997
10:30am, train
Hung over like a fucking I don’t even know what. After Tim’s party, hanging out with Frank, Mike, and Amanda last night, she came with champagne, and I wish I had some leftovers now. Olives and bread and cheese and candy. What could be better? I understand why drinkers drink. It’s fantastic. You feel great about it all. I’m terrific! I love champagne.
Spoke to Ted yesterday. We are going to see each other Thursday just briefly I think. Where does it sit now? Never really had an ex lover as a friend before.
Frank leaves on Monday for Honduras. I’ll be lonely without him. Maybe I’ll get a bunch of work done. Re-do my whole house. Big deal, so the guy’s going away.
Two guys are discussing one of their girlfriends. She’s a diamond in the rough, says one of them, but I don’t have the energy or the patience. I don’t want to assume this role in her life, then I feel all this guilt. And I talk to her, and she says oh, you have so much to teach me. And I say Nicole, you have to realize this isn’t original, it comes from other people who have taught me. And until it comes from you it doesn’t mean anything.
It’s funny to hear guys talk like girls
Glad I got over that last hump. Even if I’m not totally over it, I think I’m past the awful part. On Wednesday I literally did not think I could stand going to work but today I’m feeling better about it. Spent yesterday drawing up a big plan and emailing it off without sitting on it or double thinking. The thing to do is just do what I do.
Now just marveling at what a huge freak my mom is. Not that our last lunch was more acutely painful than any other lunch with her. Just her usual tricks: Bullying, interrupting, being bizarre. Talking about sex on the internet and how “society needs to do something about it.” I know she was talking about Pseudo, criticizing what I do, which she still doesn’t understand. It’s okay, Mom, nobody understands what we do, not even us.
But how about the part where she told me about a woman with Alzheimer’s that had just died ,and how the family was so relieved because there had been no quality of life, and how if that was ever her she’d want me to kill her. And I said I wouldn’t.