So. Today's found time for about a week's worth of drama - some of it good at least. However, my head is spinning nonetheless. I just took my anxiety meds and are waiting for them to do their blessed work. Take this down a few notches. Back to almost-unbearably-nervous. Instead of, "No, I *am* dizzy from spinning on this chair, and why is the room spinning in the opposite direction, and do you feel the ceiling falling on my head; I think it has to do with the pull from that black hole which already stole my socks, and is working on the rest of me, and-" so forth. Thanks to E^ for helping to 'normalize' taking anxiety medication for me. The superdoc is all about normalizing behavior; it's part of his Big Plan to help me understand that (:assumes a poor impersonation of Richard Nixon:) "I am not a freak." Right. So, my head's a little off, and this entry will probably testify to that. In the meantime, there are things to get the hell out of my system.
I feel like taking a shower. Maybe I will, if I finish this before dawn. Cleansing, outlet, I'm in need of this. But I'll start here.
I made an ever-so important distinction yesterday and today. It's rather simple, but I think it's going to have some pretty major effect on things. I realized that, although my anxiety disorder inhibits both things, I need to understand the distinction between the desire to get out and the desire to connect with people. Because even though they're tied (if I got out more, I would meet people and connect with them) - not everything I do to work on one piece helps with the other. For instance, my walks around the block, to the mailbox, so forth? Do not help at all with the fact that I'm lonely. That's why I'm always talking about how the people are unfriendly and barely say hi, coming 'home' with the fresh adrenaline of having been outside but probably *more* lonely for not having any real connection. I've been wondering if the assumption that I have to learn how to go out in order to resume having relationships, that I have to wait out the agoraphobia-reprogramming before meeting people isn't off. I've been desperate all week to "dive in head-first" as the doctor said, and - partly as a result - haven't left the apartment, except one time - to check the mail. I haven't left the building at all, not since my appointment. I think if I can understand this and work on not only making sure I get out every so often, while I work to make that less difficult, but also to stay connected with people as much as possible, I might feel better. So, today and yesterday have been overflowing with contact. I wrote an e-mail to Chas, to Mandy; I was about to write my cousin one and received one from her instead! To that, I replied instantly, as the last time I waited to reply, six or eight months ended up passing. I've left tons of lj-comments and diaryland notes, and I answered a phone call from Brittany (Rogers-Brittany, not Brittany-of-Diaryland.) I wrote a letter to Dave. Now I'm agonizing over whether or not I should send it. (I was previously agonizing over whether or not I should write it.) I just feel weird. I'm incredibly honest and emotionally open in the letter (that's basically my character outside of the letter as well) - and it just feels so odd with him. I mean, the main point of the letter is that I need him to be open with me, to not maintain the therapeutic distance so that we really can have a post-therapy relationship. If he wants that. I realized that continuing contact without continuing a relationship is very bizarre, and so writing him letters I never hear back about is likely to feel increasingly unsettling. But better that nothing...right? I honestly don't know. And I just remember being at Rogers, and seeing him, interacting with him; it came rushing back to me who he is. Who I know, anyway. And he's not someone to send these sappy letters to. At least, he's not someone I'm fully comfortable sending these emotional letters to... It's just scary to keep putting my heart on the line, no holds barred, with no idea what response I'll have from him. Especially when I know he has a history of making up his mind about something without really giving someone the chance to argue their case. But it should be our case. If we're going to have a relationship at all, he needs to care, too... and that's the type of thing I can't know because he's still using all the defenses he has in place to stay safe in an insanely unsafe profession. I respect those defenses; I'm grateful to him for the work he does... I just need him to expose a little of the skin beneath the armor. I don't know. ...It's silly, but part of me feels like he'll just laugh at what I have to say, that it won't even register or mean anything to him. But then I can see his face, the face he has when he's agreed to listen to me: he turns his head and eyes away, like he's diverting his other senses to give his ears full power. He has one elbow on the back of his chair and his hands are almost meeting, almost folded. And I can see him nodding, agreeing, understanding. As much as he fucks with me... there is that other side. He asked me to talk. He called me darlin' all those months ago.
I really don't enjoy these moments when my theory of "hey, having no desire to date whatsoever isn't all bad! at least I never have to agonize over affection, rejection, communication, and what to do about it all" explodes in my face. Like the universe would be laughing if I weren't convinced it's asleep. To think that I am agonizing over Dave is itself agonizing. So it would be really cool if he'd just put something on the line for me to confirm what I intuitively cannot shake: that he's worth it. That there's more to him. That we're good for each other. That I not only need him, I want him in my life - and there's reason for him to want me in his. If he could just ... help me understand that, I'd appreciate it. If he could just live up to all the credit and benefit-of-the-doubt I am giving him... If he could just risk letting me live up to whatever he thinks I am.
Re.lation.shit.
I'll send the letter. I always do. And he'll write back. Because he never does. Hell, maybe he'll call.
Where was I? Contact. Dave. Yesterday's talk with Brittany. Yesterday's talk with Brittany went well. It was another odd instance of I-was-just-going-to-contact-you! (like with my cousin.) That's the sort of thing I think is said more often than it occurs. But I was preparing to call her when she called me. And I was actually ready (almost) because I'd come down to my last question: What do I do if she wants to get together? (Did I mention she'd left me a message a few days earlier, not sounding so good? And that I'd be returning that call?) - to which I actually received a really simple and surprisingly helpful response: I'm not in town this weekend. I'm leaving tomorrow to spend a couple of days with my brother in Nashville. (I'm reluctant to the core about this. Joe's great, Nashville's great, I'll be depressed as fuck as I stay here alone... but, why, why, why does this sort of thing always happen in the midst of great anxiety? I'm trying really hard to see Monday, to see that I will be back, I will once again have nothing on my calendar, I will once again be back in my routine, but it's excruciatingly hard. Where the hell did I get this belief that I'll be trapped in the world's most terrifying, painful situation for the rest of my life, if I do something other than hide under my bed? And where might I exchange it, please?)
Anyway, it was an easy, honest out. Which I didn't even have to use, actually. I answered the phone (on, like, the last ring) and we talked, and I heard all about what's been going on for her lately (augh!...custody battles over her son) - and then I told her about going to WI and had another "normalizing" moment when she talked about how much she wished she could see and talk to some of those people. And how she was thinking about Ropes earlier this week, things like that. "See! Other people do feel this way!" The doctor will be pleased. I was pleased. And her son, gosh...she was holding him while we talked, and he even sounds cute. I had to tell her that. It's weird, but I've been around a lot of motherhood lately, in my reclusive sort of way. Or at least, it seems so. With all of the agonizing shite going down for Lilith73 and all the happy-happy-joy-joy of Sue and her son Brian... I don't know. I guess it doesn't seem like a lot, except that it's usually not a part of my life at all; no one in my family has a new baby...none of my close friends - specifically offline - are parents. (Not to say that Brittany and I aren't close, but we're just starting to have a relationship again, and we're close to polar opposites in a lot of ways.) I think it's bringing something up for me, though as usual I'm not sure what. Maybe just the mommy question. The, "I know, I know, you don't want to have kids under any circumstances, end of discussion, but are you sure?" excitement. Or my relationship with my mom, and her mom, and the part of me that didn't get to have a mom, and still wants one. I was thinking the other day (I'm having a "holy cabooses^^, I'm turning into an adult!" freakout again - similar to when I turned eighteen, at least partially due, this time, to the fact that I can see myself looking older) that I'm still searching for this person who will take care of me (even though I take care of myself; I'm still looking for that person who will coddle me, comfort me, take care of me like their child) and the thing is: "It didn't happen. It's not going to happen. The time ran out, and I didn't find anyone, and so... that's all, folks." But that's not all (folks.) Because, I think, the same way that I'll be my parents' child long past the time I'm not a child, I'll need to have that relationship. The confusing part is how to keep that need from negatively interfering with other relationships. Probably something to do with meeting it. Needs generally stop interfering when they've been met...
And then there was all this upset, shock and tears. Laughy lost someone to a suicide, which just tore my breath away - and I'm not going to say anything beyond that right now because it's too big, too beyond me. I don't know her, and so I'm just going to be quiet, until I need to be something else. I know this brings things up for me, but I refuse to make it "a suicide" knowing that this girl was never lost before. People know this girl. Aigh... I need to be quiet about it now.
Tears over a fantasy that was probably a metaphor. Identical twins, one with an eating disorder. I'm scared as hell of losing someone else. I hate knowing that tenacity and strength and bravery and all the other virtues are not always enough to win the fight for life. I hate knowing that. I hate that I can't make it untrue. Some days, I really wouldn't mind a god that I could just approach, say, "yo, dude - this girl seriously deserves to live, and what's more I need her" and feel secure that she/he would see to it. Sucks to have a spirituality based on life experience, sometimes. (It serves me well when I'm actually believing, instead of being annoyed that I don't have a "here let me magically fix it all for you" God like some lucky believers.)
Right. I guess that's all. I absolutely don't want to go to Nashville tomorrow. It's right after my session and everything. I haven't packed. I don't want to drive through Kentucky. (I haven't mentioned that to anyone yet. Maybe I'll sleep through Kentucky. To think, the last time I made this drive, I thought I'd have to take a detour "one of these times" to see her. Godd...) I'll go; it'll probably be ok. If I freak, I'll sleep the days away on a different couch. (Variety, yada yada.) If I don't, I might have fun. The last trip to Nashville resulted in a rocking water fight in one of the fountains, a trip to the recreated Parthenon, and seeing my brother Joe - of all people - performing on a Dance Dance Revolution machine in a crowded arcade to the tune, "It's Raining Men!"
I have to admit - those were good times.
~me
^It's the only letter of your name I know. And it's usually silent, so I thought I'd let it be heard some.
^^that's care of my cousin, who makes me laugh
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