Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Nothing In This Life That I've Been Trying Can Equal or Surpass the Art of Dying.

Meg and I went out to dinner the other night. Much needed girls' night out.

We lamented about what's going on in our lives which causes us to feel craptastic. But we had a lot of laughs too.

She has some negative coping mechanisms, but far more positive ones than I do. For example, when I feel like self-harming, I don't forego the impulse and go for a FORTY MILE BIKE RIDE. I sleep.

For me, in any case, it seems I've done everything wrong when it comes to POE. Granted, Guy was frequently less than a mile away and POE is thousands of miles away, but Guy, for his extremely shitty responses to communication, was more communicative than POE. I understand busy lives. I have one too.

I started to tear up with Meg when I told her how much I miss being able to text Guy all of my little observances and tidbits of the day, which he loved to read but didn't always respond. But he'd check in once in a while. POE? I send tidbits to of rather dire or great importance regarding school or what have you, and it takes him like 2 weeks to send me a quick message back. I should have his license by now. I should have his graduation stuff by now, and I don't. When I try to iterate to POE that these are sort of crucial things, he just doesn't answer.

I get it. He has spotty internet reception, the power goes out a lot, and he found a job that keeps him busy. That said, like Guy, it takes 30 seconds to type over a reply, or say hi, or just let me know I haven't been forgotten. Meg and I talked at dinner, wondering if Guy has been on the blog just checking in, and he hasn't to the best of my knowledge. Neither has POE, who I still think doesn't know much about me having a blog.

Last night, I had these horrible dreams. One was a PTSD dream about Chris during which he was telling me all about his new girlfriend and telling me he didn't want to see me anymore (which isn't that far off the mark of what really happened) and the other; Craig became a transsexual, and I wouldn't let him have any custody of Luke. Not that I inherently have anything against transsexuals, but in the dream, I had absolutely no patience for Craig's lipstick-donning bullshit.

Point being: there's something amiss about every fella I know. And it's probably all my fault. I really thought POE was a slam dunk of luck--but then my brain catches up with me, and reminds me that I'm most likely too overweight and homely for him to give a shit, other than to get his paperwork in on time. Meg has more internal, serious problems, but half of her maladies are because she's TOO pretty and awesome.

The transition to Argosy has been relatively smooth, save for one class where you have to do weekend residencies. I was sidelined by a nasty injury and infection last week that had me just SLIGHTLY under the weather:

Attractive, isn't it? Anyway, I have to find my old syllabus from when I took the same class at Adler, which I've asked the professor to email me, which she hasn't yet. If I can get credit for having taken the class already, I won't fail. If I do fail, I have to take the course again. The ring beside the infected one is my father's wedding ring. It was also in danger of having to be cut off, but thanks to Luke and a trick with a string on YouTube, he got it off intact, thank God. Still, antibiotics that made me feel sick to my stomach, pain pills that put me to sleep, and soon enough, like this morning, I've fallen into a depressive episode.

Kate was totally on top of my finger situation, though she was on holiday in Maine and then had to go back to New York because her father-in-law passed away in Colorado. She kept insisting that no matter what these other bozos think of me, I always have BMF, which is true, and Meg reiterated that at dinner. Seeing BMF had me on like a 3-week high, during which I largely ignored how hurt I was feeling from POE being so unresponsive.

But that's worn off, and now I'm aggravated and lonesome again. I don't like to cry in front of Meg. I hate to. I'm supposed to be her rock. Her go-to girl. But at dinner, I broke down just a little bit and once again resigned that my life heretofore will be my son, my work and myself, by myself, and that it was just something I'd have to get used to.

No, I'm not going to join an online dating service. It is my belief that one shouldn't have to pay to find love, and I think the whole concept is ridiculous. Even free sites, like OKCupid, have the worst algorithms for matching I've ever encountered. But I'm just tired of it. Tired of it all.

I expressed to Meg missing Guy, missing POE, being perturbed at POE (over which he did apologize once), and my general discontent towards the lack of affection and love that I have in my life.

Recently, I read an article on social isolation and loneliness. It concluded through a study that social isolation is twice as deadly as obesity, worse than smoking 15 cigarettes a day, and far more people will die from it than they will from Ebola, I found these statistics to be probably pretty accurate. Thank God I'm overweight and smoke like a chimney. That triples the rate at which I could die.

It doesn't help that I'm completely not sleeping well. I'll doze off around 11 or 11:30, but I wake up at 12:30 and am up until like 3am, fall back asleep at 5am, then up at 7 to instinctively make sure my son has left for school, then going back to sleep until almost noon. That's not healthy or helping much. I think it's part of being manic depressive, the disruption of the nocturnal pattern in a mixed mood.

My thyroid's still fucked up, so the doctors increased the dose of the medication, It's not supposed to see-saw numbers around. It's not stable. It took my prodding and medical knowledge to convince the doctors that I needed to be on a higher dose of medication. Idiots. No wonder I'm not losing any weight.

I'm sure I have some paper to write, or some other work which to attend, so I'll put a cap on this one. A cap on the crush on POE. Reel in the flutters of missing Guy. Mentally prepare myself for growing alone, surviving alone and dying alone.


BMF said...

Please don't go away. I may be in the male majority, but rest assured, I love you so much.

"Don't give up, you still have friends... "

I would hold you as long as you wanted or needed if I wasn't so far away. Though I do understand the feeling of not having anyone intimately instead of a friendly squeeze.

Give Luke lots of hugs...I know it's not me or POE or even Guy, but it starts somewhere. I know you had your hopes up about POE, but he's half a world away. If you put off your life waiting for him, you're doing yourself a disservice. God knows what he's doing in Egypt. In other ways, don't put yourself through hell for a "maybe." It's not because you've gained weight or are "homely." That's not you. When I saw you, my heart skipped a beat. While I surprised that you weren't anorexic anymore, you still were as pretty as ever.

And I agree, you shouldn't have to pay for love. I hate the concept of online dating myself.

I'm glad you got out a good cry last night, as you mentioned to me, but try not to make it a habit. You're listening to too much Zevon. Go back to Harrison's "Wonderwall."

And while I could never understand Guy's lack of communication (I attribute it to him being really old, POE has no excuse for not answering your messages in a timely fashion. I hope you don't feel "used" like your mom said you were, because I think he genuinely likes you. If that's just as a friend, so be it. If he doesn't fall madly in love with you, it's his loss, totally. It's not because right now you're overweight. Don't be so caught up in your looks. You were cuddly when I saw you, and just as beautiful as ever.

Point being: Have a smidge of confidence in yourself. You're a genius, you do well in school, you creatively write, you play instruments, and you're cute. And a good mama to boot. Fuck what anyone everyone else thinks.

I love you and my affection for you is ceaseless. Even if WE can't ever just be friends. You mean so much to me. Please don't think you'll die alone. You won't. I know it.

Andrea Miklasz said...

There's so much to get done this weekend with school. None of it's going to get done. I've cried myself to sleep the last few nights, wake up, am restless and empty. I don't have Luke this weekend, but he just called to say what a miserable time he's having at his father's house. I wish he could come home. I keep sleeping until 11 or noon and then I'm lucky if I shower; otherwise, I just wash my hair, brush my teeth and throw some deodorant on w/sweat clothes.

I've listened the shit out of "Wonderwall," thank you. I think it's brilliant.

You mean the male minority, not majority, BMF. If the male majority all loved me (which seems to be Meg's problem) I wouldn't be quite as suicidal.

I don't want a majority to love me, just a small minority of the right people.

I was used. Let's face facts. POE needed something and my heart is too big and in the process of helping him, I crushed madly. It's my own damn fault I get into these situations.

Nothing got done this week and nothing's going to get done any time soon. At least my professor has my doc's explanation as to why and he said that was sufficient.

I'm not a big crier. If I'm bawling in the dark listening to Roy Orbison, something's gravely wrong with me.

Lucky thing I can hide it so well during the day.