Holy Discomfort

It's Monday again! But this time with an open week stretched out ahead of me-- no teaching! I know I need to take this time to turn things around and to get going on my incompletes, but it's hard. It's always the hardest thing to start.

Until around 1:00 pm today, I felt the tug of my spiral downwards urging me to lay in bed and mope, but I forced myself up. I still didn't feel quite right. I talked to Hammer for a bit on the phone and then I called B. Sometimes I really hate him--for a million and one reasons that are too personal to go into here. But because of it, sometimes when I talk to him, I feel myself being manipulative-- making him feel bad or guilty on purpose and then I hate myself for it. I was doing just that today. When I hung up with him I started to cry-- about everything-- about that overriding feeling of helplessness that I just can't seem to shake.

And then, I don't know why, but I took a Vivarin. I started to feel better. I crushed up another one and snorted it-- pretty stupid, I know, but it did the trick. I cleaned up a bit, taking out the piles of accumulated garbage and throwing all of the random dirty clothes around my house into the hamper. Then I went out and got some food for lunch. When I got back, I called B to apologize for making him my emotional dumping ground. Then I got on my exercise bike and cycled for half an hour. I'm feeling a million times better now (albeit pretty sweaty!).

If this is really "it" for me and Narc (and I suppose I shouldn't qualify that by saying "if" but I can't help it!) then, can I blame myself for struggling a bit? I think the most important thing for me to focus on this week is staying off the alcohol. It clouds my thinking about everything and I spend my entire life either drunk or hungover-- neither a condition conducive to moving forward with things!

So the past few days have been a bit of a roller coaster! As you know, on Wednesday night I was out with Narc and Couchy until around 5:00 am, getting told by CouchSleeper that I should "run the other way" and then getting left in the street by Narc. Enough of that...

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Thursday was a new day and I spent most of it recovering from the night before. At around 3:00 pm I met NDN to head to Long Island. I had invited him to Passover at my Aunt's place. We never have a real Seder, as my family is entirely secular, so Passover for us is more of a family gathering over food than it is a religious holiday. I really love religion though (most all of them!) and I cherish the moments on the calendar that provide a sort of sacred space for reflection. My family always leaves it to me to try to imbue a little meaning into the holidays, and so I tried to make us at least recount the Passover story. What I love most about this holiday week and the moment at which it has arrived in my life are the themes of "liberation," "death" and "resurrection." God knows, I need it...

My mom dropped me and NDN off at the train station (where we proceeded to miss our train) and while we were waiting there, I got a very strange text from TT.

So despite our conversation on Saturday, I don't think we can be friends anymore, he wrote.

I was really confused. Then he wrote again:

My phone is about to start charging me for outgoing AND incoming text messages. You'll BANKRUPT me! Catch you later.

Was he trying to be cute? I immediately wrote back:

Huh? I'm confused.

His reply:

Did you read all the messages? I'm just funnin' with ya. I sent them milliseconds apart so you wouldn't misunderstand. (See how well that worked out...)

So I called him. I really just don't click with his entire energy, nor his sense of humor. Why would he be making jokes like that at such a sensitive moment in our "relationship?" The phone call was not much better. I endured a murderous ten minutes of pointless chit chat during which I felt I had to carry the entire conversation.

"Yeah, so I'll talk to you soon," I said as I hung up.

Whatever. The whole TT thing needs to be MAJORLY placed on the back burner right now. I'm just dealing with too much in the rest of my life.

When I got back to my place, I was restless and depressed. I had bought a new journal that morning in the hopes of "starting over" with a life purged of Narc. So I said good night to NDN and went to Cheers with my journal.

My heart was hurting with a dull aching constriction and I got drunk quickly. Everything seemed surreal-- like a bad nightmare from which I couldn't escape. A man in a blue bow-tie sang "Mothers-- don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys." And all I could think of was what CouchSleeper had said.

"I know you know why I love Narc," I told him. "You must love him too-- you're his best friend!"

He laughed at me.

"I don't love him!" he said. "And I certainly don't love him like you do!"

I couldn't rid myself of that.

I knew nearly everyone at Cheers that night-- FightingMensch, Duff, PumpedUp, the RedFaced Lawyer, Manwich, Masseuse, KHill (yes, KHill was back!) a guy named Dave that I had met the previous Monday and Nickle-- a friend of TT's (in fact the link between me and TT when I "re-met" him back in January).

It's the same night over and over, I thought. You're trapped in the same fucking night. Life is not moving! It's never moving! It's never moving!

And indeed, I felt trapped. I thought of Narc and Couchy sitting at the Patriot, probably doing the exact same thing as they do every night-- as Narc and I do every night. They were probably sitting there getting smashed on Jack, unwittingly memorizing Gretchen Wilson songs, and Johnny Cash and Tammy Wynette.

KHill was ignoring me the whole night. It was not what I needed for my self-esteem at that moment. I hadn't seen him since early February-- the night I was making out with Double-T in the bar.

I sang the song "Crazy."

Afterwards, KHill cheered my name and "high-fived" me. Okay, so things were not so bad. I was just being paranoid. I bought a shot for him and one for Masseuse. Masseuse told me that she broke up with FightingMensch but that she still wants to fuck him.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," I said.

Someone shouted the name "Coogan," urging a friend to get up and sing. And I thought of Coogan's-- a bar up near Columbia Medical School where I used to hang out with a boy named AIR7 long, long ago.

A man from Qatar started to talk to me. He wanted to buy me drinks. He works for the UN (as do most of the "foreign" men in my neighborhood). I drank with abandon-- four shots of Jager in 15 minutes. The man from Qatar widened his eyes at that. I wished he would go home. Eventually he did.

At the end of the night, there was nobody left except for me, ThursdayGirl, IrishBird and BarMan.

"Whether you say 'I can' or you say 'I can't,' you're right," BarMan said.

I was too drunk to understand, so I wrote it down.

ThursdayGirl had a bruise on her arm.

"What's that from?" I asked.

"Oh, from him throwing me around a bit!" she laughed, gesturing towards BarMan.

"I love those," I said.

"No you don't, Hyde!" BarMan glared. "And if you ever come in here with one again, I'll never call you again!"

"I don't mind them," I said. "And you never call me anyway!"

Everyone started to crack up. I felt like I was losing my mind. The bar was closing. Was it 3:00 am?

So, I went to Manchester.

I arrived alone, but saw the bouncer from Cheers there.

"Do-re-mi!" he called out in greeting. (That's his nickname for me).

Sean Duffy was out with a back problem. The substitute bartender offered me a shot for a "bump."

"I don't have anything on me," I said.

I drank two drinks there, and I dialed Narc. I heard his machine and hung up the phone.

Shit! Shit! Shit, Hyde! I thought.

I sent myself a text to let myself know in the morning that I hadn't left him a message (just in case of a blackout). And then it hit me. I was drunk-- too drunk to be out by myself-- even just five blocks from my house. The bouncer had left. I was alone and suddenly feeling stupid. I paid my tab and got up to leave. I felt woozy and unsteady. I didn't want to stumble home alone. I was scared. So I hailed a cab. The cab driver laughed at me, as I was only going four blocks. He didn't even turn the meter on.

"Don't you need that meter?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it, dear," he said.

I gave him five dollars.

Then I was asleep.

**********************

Thank God I set my cell phone alarm, I thought as I opened my eyes to a head-pounding Friday morning.

I had promised B to meet him at church, and I didn't want to fail-- for my sake as much as for his. I always take well to Good Friday services. As fast as I tried to get myself together, I was still ten minutes late to meet him. Walking to the church, I was overwhelmed with emotions and started to cry a little on the street. I wiped back my tears as best I could when I saw him sitting on the cool stone steps.

"You're late," he grumbled.

"I know-- but only ten minutes late, and I'm not late for the service. It hasn't started yet, has it?"

"No, but that's not the point, Hyde!" he snapped at me. "You're late and it's just not cool!"

"Okay! I'm sorry! Let's just forget it. Let's not start the day like this. We're going to church. Can't you just start the day with a little forgiveness?"

"Oh, so now I'M the bad guy?" he barked at me.

I couldn't deal with it. B and I are often at odds over small issues like this, but this time I was so emotionally raw that I had ZERO tolerance for any kind of conflict.

"Forget it! I'm leaving!" I cried.

I turned and ran down the church steps, rounding the corner as fast as I could. There I stood with my back pressed again the side of the building, sobbing. I didn't care if the tourists were looking. I just felt pain, and my pounding head didn't help.

When I managed to calm my breathing, I thought about it all again. I wanted to go to church. I needed to clear that space in my head and in my heart. I needed that feeling of peace and safety. I didn't want my quarrel with B to take that from me, so I headed back in. I made sure to sit on the other side of the church-- across the aisle and a few rows behind B so that he couldn't easily spot me.

Fuck him! I thought, angry and sad all at once.

But then, I couldn't stop crying. I hated myself so much, overwhelmed with worthlessness. The organ music crunched down on me, pinning my shoulders under the weight of its sound.

Nothing I do is right. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, I thought.

I can't do it! I can't do it!

I haven't felt that kind of "helpless" suicidal in a long time. But at that moment, I wouldn't have minded just ending everything. I know it's because I'm being a coward, but still-- it's how I felt. Fixing it all just seems like so much work-- so much insurmountable work!


While the entire service was beautiful, it was the homily that I found most meaningful. The church will have a printed copy of the sermon available next week, so I'm hesitant to write about it too much without having it to look back upon, but the theme of the sermon was "Holy Discomfort." She talked about the presence of Mary and the disciples at the foot of the cross, present, even in the face of helplessness and pain.

"There is no place to be but here," she said.

And I'm sure that she was talking about the greater sorrows in the world-- about not turning one's back on the impossible problems of poverty and injustice, even when we are "helpless" to do anything about it. But the idea of remaining present in the face of one's discomfort and helplessness as a "holy" act in and of itself struck a particular chord with me that afternoon in terms of my own life, and it really did help me. "Helpless" is not a feeling I'm good at sitting with.

About half an hour into the service (and before the homily), B turned his head and saw me sobbing, snotty, red-faced and all alone. He got up and made his way over to me without a word, putting his arm around me and kissing my hair. I felt a million times better. I cried a little harder for five minutes and then stopped. It felt good to have such a good friend.

After the service we went to a small cafe where he got a coffee and I ate some soup. We talked and talked and talked about religion and life, spirituality, fear, anxiety and about how neither of us is very good at "sitting" with negative feelings. I decided to erase all of my texts from Narc. Normally I flip through them once or twice a day and think about him, but if I really mean to rid myself of this destructive force in my life, I have to mean it! While I still haven't been able to bring myself to erase his voice mails, with B next to me, I reread the texts one by one and pressed "erase" each time. It was really hard for me, but I did it. (Remember, I'm the same girl who saved his ice ream in my freezer for about seven months!).

Mid-afternoon, B and I parted ways and I talked to Hammer on the phone while I walked home. She told me about how her Brother and future Sister-in-Law have become Groom-and-Bridezilla!

For the rest of Friday I was too exhausted-- emotionally spent and heavy to do much of anything. I crawled into bed early and watched a few old movies including The Lost Weekend and Blackboard Jungle.

My favorite quotes from the Lost Weekend:

On taking a drink:
"It's like stepping off a roof and expecting to fall just one floor!"

And:
"She knows she's clutching a razor blade but she won't let go."

Blackboard Jungle was most remarkable for the young Sidney Poitier.

So, at long last-- Finally, that night, some sleep was to be had!

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For an update on the rest of the weekend, you'll have to wait some more. I'm tired of writing, for now...

love,
hyde