Echoes

Today weighs heavily in my mind. Everything echoes... the past is here in my present. Ghosts. Deep prints. But also change. I'm digging my way out of that downward spiral, that "eternal recurrence" that I used to talk about so much...

Seven years of speech in a circle, I once wrote.

The bruises lifted from my mind
To my face.

Today is the two year anniversary for me and Narc. ("It's your anniversary. Not his," Brick pointed out.) I just got off the phone with him. We talked for half and hour. That's a long time for me and Narc and to be on the phone. He had texted me earlier this evening:

Narc: The Patriot beckons... So long. I can't resist.

Hyde: Toss one back in honor of me and the good old days! :)

Narc: God, this place is depressing... Leaving in 5... What are you up to tonight?

Hyde: Now? Organizing book shelves. At least trying to... No real plans but meeting NDN at 9:30 am tomorrow. Promised to help him furniture shop. Why? Wanna hang?

Narc: Heading home now, but if you have early plans no worries. Organize, cleanse the space, etc.! Call later.

Hyde: K. Will probably be sick of this by 11. Will call then. Btw-- as a historian, I must point out-- today is 2 yrs since we met. Weird, right? Anyway, talk later...

I ended up on the phone with B at around 10:45. I found an old journal with poems that B had written me as far back as 1997. He was trying to be TS Eliot or Allen Ginsberg in those days. He winced at the mention of those poems and didn't want to hear them. He insulted them. Insulted the him that he was. That made me angry. I loved the boy that wrote those poems. I didn't want anyone to insult him. Or his heart. Or his efforts. B wrote those poems for me long before we were ever "together." But I still loved him then.

I was suicidal back then... Well, if not actively suicidal, at the very least I had a lot of suicidal thoughts. My journals reeked of them-- a sweet, putrid scent. It didn't scare me to read all of that. But it fascinated me-- the kind of peculiar fascination reserved for the bizarre and the horrid. I was a Romantic... a very interesting writer. The world moved for me then. It was mysterious and flexing and full of symbols. What a creepy voice I had.

It echoes.

Anyway, today brought another visitor from the past-- VJ returned! She is back from Miami for six weeks. I haven't seen her in about a year!

Today, we met in the late afternoon and had dinner together at a sushi place on 3rd Avenue. Then we walked back to my apartment and just hung out and talked. I showed her a lot of pictures and we listened to music. After that, we relocated to my bedroom where she entertained me while I reshelved and reorganized books. VJ is like family-- entirely comfortable and someone that I know will be in my life forever. It was good to see her.

I went to see a psychiatrist this afternoon. He wrote me two prescriptions-- one to help with anxiety/depression and the other to help me sleep. I'm a little nervous about taking them, but I guess it's worth a try.

I still haven't resolved the issues I've been having with my usual therapist. The most recent communication I got from her was the following email:

Dear Hyde,

I think you are either angry with me or avoiding me. Please get in touch so we can straighten out whatever we need to. Shrinks are human and therefore not perfect. I think the issue is that I disappointed you.

Dr. ------------

I haven't written back yet.

My counselor (at the rehab) asked me if I love Narc. I said "no," and I thought it was true at the time that she asked, but I think that the answer is really "yes." I love him, with no explanation. I can't tell you why. But I don't love him in the way that I used to say I do. I don't love him because it hurts. I just love him. Just because...

(She asked me what I love about him. I couldn't answer. I hate her for that.)

When I spoke to him on the phone tonight, it was him being him. I was tired and he wanted to hang up at around 12:15. But I still sort of wanted to see him. (Maybe I just didn't want to sleep alone.)

"Are you gonna be up late?" I asked. "Do you want to maybe hang out later? Wanna give me a call?"

"You have to get up early," he said. "You want to stay home tonight."

(I do?)

He likes to do that-- tell me what I want to do. That way he never has to say that he needs me or anything like that. I'm okay with it. He didn't want to see me. I'm not sad. I'm kind of glad to be staying home. It's where I should be. Maybe he knew better for tonight. Unlike me, he doesn't have to push it. I'm not used to going to bed alone. I always need a boy or a bottle. And Brick and I are always together now, except tonight he has his mom staying over at his place.

This morning, Brick and I started our day by sunbathing on my roof and having breakfast at the diner. Then I helped him draft a cover letter. Then we parted ways. Last night, he came over here late after having watched The Devil Wears Prada. The movie brought up a lot of different emotions for him. He said that I was a good friend. That made me really happy. I want to see Brick work it all out and succeed. I'm going to be so proud of him. I know it. I was able to stay up late with him because I napped for three hours that afternoon. I think I'm still a little sick from last weekend.

So, today is my two year anniversary with Narc. And guess what else? It's my 60th day sober. Holy shit, that scares me. I don't like numbers sometimes. They make me afraid of what I've lost. But that's just nerves. I know I'm better off going forward.

I know that my last post was really depressing, but what can I say? I was in a really bad state. I can't stand fighting with Brick. I'm also afraid of something in my own head... an awful premonition I have, like the rumbling before a storm. Something bad is coming. (Isn't there a song about this in "West Side Story?") I'm trying to calm myself down though. Brick and I may have squabbled "like a married couple" (as the people in group put it) but we didn't go to bed angry. In fact, we were together again that very night. And as for my premonition, no matter what may or may not be coming, things are okay "right now," and I try to remind myself of that.

As for group, it's getting a little surreal. Senegal called me at home the other night and we spoke for about 20 minutes. He called me "little girl" and was flirty with me. He is an okay guy, though. I think he's cool, and I don't mind it, as long as it doesn't start to make me uncomfortable being open in group. Today, on my way out of the psychiatrist's office, I bumped into another guy that I had met in the reception area yesterday. He shook my hand and gave me his phone number and his meeting book. He circled his home meetings and a bunch of others and urged me to hang out with him. I have more days than he does. How did that happen? He has a lot of tattoos.

Anyway, the strangest part of group? Religrope! And Religrope is growing stranger by the day. He's become fixated on the idea of winning me a stuffed animal. First he was going to win it at Great Adventure, and then at Coney Island. The other day, he brought it up in group a dozen times.

"I'm gonna win one for Hyde," he kept saying. "It's gonna be so big, she won't be able to carry it! It's gonna knock her right down! You'd like that, Hyde, eh?" he asked, jabbing me in the arm. "I bet that would put a smile on your face!"

He said it over and over again.

During group, while someone else was talking, he took out some money and showed it to Brick and told him that he was going to use it to win me a stuffed animal. Brick couldn't stop laughing.

Later, Religrope asked me what my favorite color was. (Brick told me that Religrope is planning to buy me a handbag in my favorite color).

"Blue," I said.

"What shade of blue? Light blue? Navy blue?"

"I don't know... ocean blue?" I shrugged.

Religrope makes me very uncomfortable.

To make matters worse, Religrope called Brick yesterday and told him that he won me a SpiderMan doll at Coney Island. That means on Monday I'll have to be confronted with him presenting it to me. Ugh!

Well, I guess that's it for now. I still have a lot to write about our trip, but I better get to bed if I'm going to be up in time to help NDN with a smile on my face. By the way, I think you should all be informed-- NDN is no longer my "Next Door" Neighbor. He has moved five floors down, but instead of renting, he actually bought an apartment, and is now a homeowner! So, congratulations, NDN, even though I miss you already!

As I write this, I feel a prolonged sadness. A longing. A delicate impression. Time, time, time. Two years ago, I met Narc. One year ago, we were hardly speaking.

(In fact, one year ago, I sent him the following text:

Wasn't ignoring you Tuesday night. Just think it's best this way. You asked in your text if I thought we could be friends. The honest answer? No. That's all. Goodbye, Narc.

His relpy?

You're right. I suppose I just didn't want to end us on a low note, as we did. Good luck with everything.)

I'm thinking of Narc tonight, but in a more sober way. He's lingering on my mind like a bitter aftertaste. But I want him there.

I'm sad tonight, I think. I feel resigned to something, but I don't know what.

Being an adult is a little depressing. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's just all the responsibility that I taste, and not Narc at all.

I don't know. But I'll leave you with that.

Good night.

love,
hyde