Closing Time

I'm done looking at that fucking picture of Echo and Narcissus. I'm done writing about Narc. I'm done analyzing this "non-relationship." I'm done hiding my life in the shadows.

I'm moving my blog. I hate the current address. It reminds me of why I moved it here to begin with-- because I was running from Narc and running from myself. I'm starting over.

Here's my new address: http://hyderesurrected.blogspot.com/

I'll leave the archives up over here.

I need to take a breath.

So long, Hyde and Narc!

love,

h

It is Finished

March 19th, 4:42 pm:

Been good. CT scan last week, just about clear, so health is good. PopStar back, strange, disorienting, but think we'll do all right. Move in next week. Much change.

March 19th, 4:44 pm:

Also offered job on Friday, part time from home, $600 or more a week, will probably take it. And so Narc joins the working world...!

The End.

Morning has Broken

He has broken his silence and written me a text. He alerted me to the new series about the Tudors on Showtime with Jonathan Rhys Meyers as Henry VIII. "How've you been?" he asks.

Of course, I wrote back immediately:

I'm excited for that one! I've been good...Busy. Painting icons, preparing for that conference in a few weeks, catching up on Rome, singing with a new teacher, hanging out with a lot of new people, etc. I miss you though. How have YOU been?

Of course, he didn't respond.

His message was a test. Is Hyde still there? The answer was "yes." No need to go any further.

-h-

Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts

I'm a little tired and still depressed.

Last night I tried to blog, but I couldn't write much. I had just gotten back from a visit to Forest Hills where I saw The Namesake with BigSis and Bro-in-Law. My mom and LilSis met us for a late lunch, but headed home before the movie. My mom gave me another ring for my 10 months. She's obsessed with giving me jewelry lately. (She gave me a massive opal and diamond cocktail ring that had belonged to my grandmother when I hit six months.) This one has three diamonds and two tiny sapphires and I'm guessing is white gold. It belonged to my great grandmother--my namesake... or I guess I'm her namesake. Whatever...

I had fallen behind in watching Rome, so this weekend I got to catch up with three episodes in a row. I have a crush on Mark Anthony. Ha ha... having a crush is fun. I'm obsessed with that show right now.

But for some reason, I have a headache this morning that I can't quite get rid of. I miss Narc so much.

Yesterday morning I went to a women's meeting and then out to lunch with the ladies. On Friday afternoon I had lunch with some women from the program as well.

I still miss Narc. It hurts.

B is coming over this afternoon. I didn't write about this, but on Friday he and I had a huge fight, but we made up quickly. Drippy is trying to get rid of me. It's not going to happen. I don't think she realizes that B and I are like family and we're all going to have to get used to each other. I have no interest in making her unhappy or coming between them. And I'm a little resentful that I have to deal with this added stress due to their arguing and her insecurity.

In any case, I've been reading a book about Mystical Theology and the Eastern Church. (My mom couldn't stop laughing that that's what I chose for "pleasure reading.") I just finished a chapter on "Negative Theology." The idea is basically that we can't define God by what he is. We can only define God by what he is not. He is not anything known or knowable in the world. The idea, when I actually tried to wrap my mind around it, was literally "mind blowing"-- incomprehensible. For the first time, I felt a religious impulse, not just of trying to "understand," but one of worship-- a very foreign feeling for me when it comes to religion, for despite my obsession with love and sublimation, I'm pretty much a philosophic thinker, and not one to embrace the darkness of ignorance that is required to "transcend" knowledge in mystical theology. Anyway, I realized that I have a craving for worship. I've just misdirected it in horrible ways. I worship love. I worship what I call love, even if it's not... I worship Narc. Talk about misdirecting that impulse!

My mom has always loved a poem by Alice Walker-- "Never Offer Your Heart to Someone who Eats Hearts"

Never offer your heart to someone who eats hearts
who finds heartmeat delicious but not rare
who sucks the juices drop by drop
and bloody-chinned grins like a God.

Never offer your heart to a heart gravy lover.
Your stewed, over-seasoned heart consumed
he will sop up your grief with bread
and send it shuttling from side to side in his mouth like bubblegum.

If you find yourself in love with a person who eats hearts
these things you must do:
Freeze your heart immediately.
Let him—next time he examines your chest—find your heart cold flinty and unappetizing.

Refrain from kissing
lest he in revenge
dampen the spark in your soul.

Now, sail away to Africa
where holy women await you on the shore—
long having practiced the art
of replacing hearts with God and Song.

And I've also been listening to Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah over and over. I think there's the same message in both-- somewhere along the line, our religious impulse gets misappropriated by our love impulse and we are disempowered. We get lost. Both seem to have the same message of redemption in a "higher power." And I've been thinking of my women's meetings as my personal little "sail away to Africa."

Anyway, B just called and I've got to go meet him for lunch. But I just wanted to put up a quick post of some of my musings for the morning...

love,
h

Empty

I want to write something-- I've been wanting to write for the past day or two, but I keep coming up empty.

On Tuesday I sang for Cherubino's voice teacher-- a very well known teacher in the city. It was a wonderful experience in very many ways. I have always had an "indeterminate fach"-- I started as a mezzo, and my previous voice teacher refused to "label me." But this new woman?

"My dear, you're a dramatic soprano! Without a doubt!" she declared.

She also told me that I should stop trying to sing light and forward and to use the back of my head more. It created a whole new sound and was much easier to do. I would love, love, LOVE to take lessons with her, but I really can't afford them right now. So, I'm putting it in on the back burner for a few days. I'll deal with it when I can breathe.

Yesterday was a marathon work day. I had an assignment due in class at 6:30 pm. I figured that if I started working at 9:30 am (after teaching my morning class), I should be able to get it done. Au contraire! I worked like a dog for seven hours non-stop without a break for food or the bathroom. That involved a commute between my office at the college and the New York Public Library where I sat in the reading room, furiously taking notes for three hours. At 4:30 I took an hour break because I thought I might lose my mind. I wasn't able to finish in time for class. I hit the computer again at 5:30 and worked straight through until 11:00 pm, missing class but getting the paper emailed off to my professor before midnight. This is the first time I've handed something in on its due date in two years. Pretty miraculous. I have a lot to be grateful for, I guess.

I also spoke to two "newcomers" on the phone yesterday. I'm so used to playing the innocent "victim" role that it's kind of strange for me to have to get out of myself and be there for these women who are even closer to their chaos than I am. It was kind of interesting. One girl I really liked. She lives in my neighborhood and studies Astronomy up at Columbia. I guess I'll call her "StarGazer."

Anyway, I barely got any sleep last night and woke up this morning with a "hangover" from too much work the day before. I don't know how I survived my teaching. My throat hurt and I felt really gross. But then I remembered that I used to feel like that EVERY SINGLE DAY and I felt grateful for the little things.

After teaching, I came home and went to bed and then showered and polished my nails. I haven't been dressing up or paying attention to my makeup lately. I've been in blue-sweatshirt and sneakers mode non-stop. Before AA tonight I actually took the time to do the dramatic makeup I used to love to do. I want to start feeling good again, but it's hard.

I think about Narc literally every five minutes. Everything... EVERYTHING triggers a thought of him. I need to protect myself the best I can. Because every time I think of him, I feel a little sick. I'm nauseated and not eating much this week. I think it's how I was able to plow through that work day without eating on Wednesday-- there was nothing I hungered for. There IS nothing I hunger for except him. There's no room for any hunger except my hunger for him. I feel like my love, without an outlet is devouring me from the insides out. And all I can think of is that he's with another woman.

But I don't want to think about this anymore right now or write about it either. It's out of my control and it's really unhealthy to dwell on it. If I don't get off the topic fast, I will without a doubt drink or have a breakdown.

Things have only been made worse by the fact that Brick has surprisingly cut off all contact with me. I called/texted him three or four times this week, telling him that I'm hurt and asking him why he's not talking to me. He hasn't responded. I miss him a lot and this really hurts. It really hurts. But, I guess he doesn't need me anymore. I guess he was just a user. I don't know what else to think. Again-- it's out of my control.

On Tuesday night, I was playing with fire. I was thinking about Brick and missing him. I went to the Townhouse-- one of the piano bars that Brick and I frequented over the summer when we were counting days. PonyTailBoy is bartending there now on Tuesday nights. I walked there from AA and sat at the bar and sipped diet coke and watched some documentary about gay porn on the plasma screen floating above PonyTailBoy's head. It was really graphic. I saw one too many enemas. Anyway, I shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have been sitting in a bar. I was angry, though. I was mad at Brick and mad at Narc. How can two people who I love so much and who I've consistently been there for-- how can they throw me away like that? Aren't they worried about me at all? I started thinking that I should take a drink just to show them... just to show them how much I am hurting, how much I am falling apart. I'm tired of being strong. I want to be carried.

But then I got really scared. That line of thinking made way too much sense to me and I knew it was dangerous-- that it could kill me, but I couldn't get up. Then the phone rang. It was B.

"I'll call you back in a sec," I said.

It was enough to jerk me back into reality. Brick is not worth my sobriety. Narc is not worth my sobriety. NOTHING is as important as my sobriety. I bolted from the bar.

I haven't seen Narc in nearly three weeks. I think that this is it. I have no other choice. Believe me-- if I had the choice, I would see him... I would take whatever crumb he'd toss my way. But he's not tossing.

On my way to the meeting tonight I passed PumpedUp's dad on the street.

"Hyde! How have you been? Still not drinking?" he smiled.

"Yeah... heading towards 11 months," I smiled back.

"Come back! Come back to us, Hyde," he laughed. "We need to pay our rent."

He's made that joke to me before. I used to revel in it. But don't you think it's a little tasteless at this point?

Anyway, I saw my new "sober sister" at the meeting today-- Leseco.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm okay," I said.

I am okay. I'm surviving. I'm living. I'm working. I'm talking to as many new women as I can. I'm fellowshipping. I'm reading.

But, I'm empty.

And God oh God, I still love Narc.

It hurts how much I still love Narc.

Will I ever know a love that doesn't hurt?

-h-

Death? Or a Meeting?

I knew it! I knew it! I KNEW something was wrong.

Last night, Dan called me as I was drifting off to sleep. I thought it was Narc. It wasn't. Dan broke his nose. I was sorry to hear about that.

This morning I woke up still in the dark. My alarm went off. I thought it was Narc. It wasn't. It was just the alarm.

I raced from bed to check my email. He hadn't written back. I knew he was with someone else. I thought he might have gone out of town with someone new... or to Russia to see PopStarChick. Then I remembered that he can't travel due to his condition.

Maybe he's dead, I thought. Maybe he's lying dead on his apartment floor and no one knows.

The longer I sat there staring blankly at my computer, my heart in my throat, the surer I was. I wrote an email to my sponsor.

I am trying to reassure myself and tell myself that this is a crazy line of thinking, but the more I think about the possibility of something being seriously wrong, the more I am able to rationalize another attempted contact with him.

Save me from this psycho thinking!!! I've only been awake for ten minutes and this is what's relentlessly going through my head.

"Relentless" was right. Relentless.

Am I a crazy woman? Or just an alcoholic.

I took a cab to work this morning. On the way here I passed a bar where Narc once ordered Scotch eggs and made me pay. Do you guys remember that night? I'm sure you don't. Was it last March already? Actually, come to think of it-- that wasn't the bar at all. It was a different block. I lent him money that night and was mad about it. Why am I nostalgic for it now.

We hit 10th avenue. I remembered that night after his trip to Europe-- I was afraid to call him, but I did... and then I went to teach a night class. And when I got out, he had called me back and said something about coming down to his place to watch The Apprentice. That was a year and a half ago. Damn it. Was it really?

All I can think of is him. It's hell living in my head right now. Hell! Hell! Hell!

Living hell.

I want to get out of here so badly. But, how the fuck am I supposed to get out of my own head if I can't take a drink?

I taught my class. It was about Islam. And then the Franks. We were finishing one chapter and starting another. My stomach started to cramp.

I came back to my office with a student. He needed me to sign some paper in order for him to get double-time on his exam. He has a learning disability. I couldn't wait for him to leave so that I could check my email.

And there it was:

Always fretting, you are!! Worry not my dear, just been extraordinarily busy as of late--haven't been keeping with quite a few people as a result (yourself included). Also, PopStar just back in from Moscow, so figuring out all of that etc.

Pushing on with a few projects, will write or give a call soon

--Narc

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!! It had been too long.

I'm going to die.

I'm numb, but in fact, I'm sure of it-- I'm going to die any minute now.

I want to go home and get into bed and shred my arm into streaming red ribbons of pain.

I drafted an email to my therapist telling him I needed to meet him immediately. Then I erased it and cancelled it. Maybe that's too extreme. I don't want to bother him.

Then I called my sponsor and left her a voice mail.

"Give me a call when you get out of work," I said. "I need to talk to you. But, sorry if my obsessiveness is annoying. Do you really want me to call you whenever I have a problem? Sorry if it's too much..."

And then I sat down in my desk chair and my chest hurt and my eyes hurt too. Is it weird for my eyes to hurt? They won't focus on much except for a few bright spots on the wall.

I look down at my arms and imagine them in flames. I look down at my legs and imagine them melting off. I can smell it. It's disgusting. But it doesn't hurt. It's not working. It doesn't feel like anything. I don't feel anything. I don't feel ANYTHING. I want to scream. How is it possible to hurt so intensely and feel nothing at the same time?

I called Slope.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I need a meeting or I'm going to die," I said, flatly. "What time is that meeting you go to in the afternoons?"

"12:30," she said. "What's going on?"

"I might die," I told her.

"What?"

"It's nothing," I laughed.

How can I still laugh?

"I'm okay. I'm just being dramatic."

(Am I?)

"It's just that he wrote back."

I read her the email.

"I totally know how you feel," she said. "I've been just there. Wanna get breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Don't call him though," she said.

"I'm not going to call him. There's nothing to say. That's not what I'm afraid of. I'm not afraid of calling him. I'm afraid I might take a razor and rip my forearms to shreds. I'm afraid I might carve this moment into my leg-- carve him into my leg... and that way I can't lose it... can't lose him. I want to crawl into bed and stay there until its soaked with my blood and I don't exist anymore except for a bloody bed and that way I'll just be in bed forever and there's no more of any of this."

Did I just say that? Or did I leave a lot of it out?

"Don't do that either," she said.

What did I say to her?

"I don't really want to," I told her. "I don't. I'm fine. I'm just being dramatic. It's just that I don't know what else to do."

Time has stopped. I am stuck.

"I need a meeting," I told her. "I want to stop hurting myself over him."

"Okay. So... the meeting's at 12:30. How about we meet at 11:30?" she suggested.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, of course!" I laughed. "I'm in my office til then anyway."

I smiled even though I am sitting here alone. Did I really just smile?

I need a meeting.

I need a meeting.

I went to three yesterday. I'm going to at least two today.

I need...

I need something.

So... PopStarChick is back.

I KNEW something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

WRONG.

-h-

Dissipation

I will never get used to people I care about disappearing into thin air. I have resigned myself to the fact that Brick and I are no longer friends... just acquaintances who once "counted days" together. I sent him a text on Friday asking: Are we still friends?

Yes dear, he wrote.

And then yesterday I heard from him again: I do need my clothes though... i am going to the Florida roundup.

That's that.

As for Narc? I can't stand it. I really and truly can't stand it. I feel like my insides are digesting themselves and it hurts and it leaves me a general quivering mess.

I called him on Friday night and left him a dumb-ass message. And then, today I sent him an email. (Monumentally marked in my mind, of course, as "one final try.")


Hey...

I'm feeling really bad. I don't understand why you're not talking to me. Is this it? Are you never going to talk to me again? If so, I'll try to forget about our friendship. But could you please at least explain? I'm confused and I'm feeling rejected and frustrated and hurt.

I've tried to be a good friend to you-- the best that I know how, anyway. I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt you.

Thanks.
Hyde



Pathetic, no?

In the meanwhile, B called me last night after 11:00, which is unusual for him. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me that he and Drippy were fighting because she feels like I don't make an effort to be her friend. I was dumbfounded, as I've made what I consider to be a supreme effort to be her friend! Starting in November, 2005-- I asked the two of them out for dinner, I invited her to see Rent with my friends, I invited her to a dinner party this summer (and to karaoke with my friends) and I invited her to my birthday party!

"She says that she always comes to your stuff but--"

"But what?" I demanded. "She has never invited me to anything. Not ONCE! And the other day when I called you, she picked up the phone and I said 'Hi Drippy, how are you?' and she just said 'hold on' and disappeared off the phone without any niceties at all!"

"She said that she could hear in your tone that you didn't want to talk to her."

"That's ridiculous," I said. "And that's her insecurity and her problem-- not mine. I'm doing my best."

"She said that you never want to come to our house."

"First of all, B, she never invited me. And second of all-- you're right. I don't want to come to your house. I have a lot of mixed feelings about our relationship and I have a lot of work to do on myself and it will drag up feelings for me that I don't want to confront. Those are my problem, of course, but I'm not going to put myself in something that I'm not ready for. I'm willing to get together with her, get to know her, whatever. Anyway, this is ridiculous. If she has a problem with me, put her on the phone. Let her tell me herself!"

"Hold on," he said, a sigh in his voice.

He was gone for a few minutes. Clearly she refused to talk to me.

"Look, I love you," I said to him. "I have no vested interest in making a problem for you or Drippy. For God's sake! I'm laying here in bed reading a book about Obsessive Love! Clearly I'm wrapped up in Narc. Tell her that I mean her no harm or stress..."

"It would be nice if you would write her an email saying that," he said.

"If I do, I'll do it for you," I told him. "But it's not my responsibility to reassure her. The same way it's not her responsibility to write to me and reassure me that she's not going to interfere in our friendship. If I am insecure about it, I'll deal with it in therapy. Let her go to therapy or at least confront me if she has some concern..."

After we hung up, I felt bad that B is stuck in the middle like that, so I did write an email. To both of them. Here's what I said:


Dear B and Drippy,

I just wanted to write you guys a quick note to let you know how much I wish you both happiness. I am looking forward to a lifetime of friendship with both of you. And of course, that includes getting to know Drippy better over time.

If you'd like to get together for lunch or dinner sometime this week or next, let me know.

Lots of love,
Hyde



B wrote back to me right away this morning:

Thanks, H--this definitely helps. I overslept and have to run to church (doh!!!!!) so let's talk later!

-b

And then I heard from Drippy:

If you're free on Thursday or Friday perhaps you'd like to come by for lunch. I don't know B's schedule, though, so I can't speak for him but I'm sure he's free one of those days. There are a bunch of great places to eat around here, (see the map I made on my signature below) and I've been asking B to invite you over for a long time now.

Drippy

p.s. I've been too busy to do much of anything, much less plan events, but I've been meaning to ask you to help me throw a small surprise 30 and 1/2 birthday party for B. I thought it would be cute and completely unexpected. I'm not sure if I manage on my own, though, since the rest of the semester is just going to get more crazy, so I'd appreciate a hand.


I don't know if it's just me, but I have SO many problems with this. I'm late for AA though, and don't want to get scolded (again!) by my sponsor, so I have to run.

More later...

-h-

I'm having...

...a hard time.

:(

The Breath of Life

It's been a hard weekend, but a good one. My emotions are just all over the place these days!

On Friday night, I made out with TT. On Saturday, I was blown off by Narc. It wasn't easy. I haven't heard a peep out of him since I sent that email. I don't know what that means. I don't know what he's thinking. But, my sponsor told me that my primary job when it comes to Narc is to stop trying to figure out what he's thinking. I'm trying to take her suggestions. It's so hard though. All I can think of is that this is all my fault-- if I didn't tell him that I was upset he threw away my Valentine... if I didn't tell him it bothered me that PopStar's picture was still up on his desktop... Oh well...

I couldn't fall asleep at all on Friday night. As such, I overslept and missed the women's meeting that I like to go to on Saturday mornings. I decided to head to a 10:30 beginners meeting instead-- one where I knew I would find Brick. I haven't hung out with Brick since Sunday, February 18th. It was really nice to see him again because I miss him, but at the same time, it was all tempered with semi-repressed anger. I feel completely blown off by him... blown off and used. When he needs me, he's omnipresent. When he doesn't feel like making the effort to make plans or stay in touch, he disappears. It doesn't matter what I need. Of course not...

"Are we ever going to hang out again?" I asked Brick.

"Of course," he said. "Why don't you meet me at noon tomorrow for a meeting and then we can hang out after that-- a Brick and Hyde day!"

"Okay, but you better not cancel on me!"

After the meeting, Brick asked if I wanted to get lunch with him and a friend of his, but I couldn't-- I had plans to meet B. I headed to a diner in midtown. The weather was perfect. On my walk home from the diner, my phone rang. It was an "unknown caller" and so I picked up.

"Hello? This is OddBall," came a voice on the other end.

"OddBall? OddBall?" I racked my brain. (OddBall's real name is, in fact, a quite common name. I don't know if you remember him, but he's in AA and he called to ask me out back in January. I never called him back.)

"You know... OddBall from AA."

"Oh! How are you???"

The conversation proceeded very awkwardly from there, peaking at a discussion of the beautiful spring weather. It felt like pulling teeth. I was horrified when he asked me out again for a "walk in Central Park" and I heard myself accept. What was I doing???? First I made out with TT on Friday night, not really wanting to, and then I accepted a date I didn't want?!?! (I really am "just a girl who can't say no.")

To make matters worse, when I got home, I had a text from TT:

Thanks for coming out last night. Good times. If you want to grab a bite or something between stressing on your presentation, don't hesitate to call! (What am I saying? I mean 'text.') ;-)

Ugh. I didn't answer him. (And I still haven't. Does that make me a terrible person?)

Anyway, that was Saturday. That afternoon, I got that email from Narc and later cut my wrist. Then I went to the movies with Bezoukhoff and that night sent the reply email to Narc. I feel so powerless, so disposable, so utterly abandoned... like garbage.

Late that night I remembered that I had made morning plans with Hammer and that I couldn't meet Brick for the 12:00 pm meeting. I sent him a message asking if we could meet afterwards instead.

Once again, I couldn't sleep that night. All I could think about was Narc... how much I love him and the absolutely sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

At 8:21 am, on barely three hours of sleep, I was awakened by the soft beeping of an incoming text message. I snatched the phone. Was it Narc? It was Brick.

No worries... I may hang with my sponsor after, he wrote.

So... he was cancelling on me again?!?! This made it the fourth time in a row. I called him up. We spoke for a few minutes and I told him how I felt. I told him that I felt unimportant; I told him that when he's needy he's around and then he disappears on me; I told him that it hurt. He said that he is busy and that he's trying to balance AA and work. I told him that if he doesn't have room for me in his life, that's fine, but I can't keep my heart open and stay vulnerable as a friend.

When we hung up the phone, I burst into tears. It was the first time I've had a serious cry in a long, long time. God knows, I needed it! I cried until I was choking. I cried until I couldn't see and couldn't breathe. I am so sick of investing so much love in people who can so easily discard me. I'm sick of caring so much about people who can turn around and act like I don't exist. I felt so powerless... so utterly out of control and alone. I wanted to die.

I am exactly that person they talk about in Chapter 5 of the Big Book. I am still running on self-will and it hurts like hell.

The first requirement is that we be convinced that any life run on self-will can hardly be a success. On that basis we are almost always in collision with something or somebody, even though our motives are good. Most people try to live by self-propulsion. Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way. If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and self-sacrificing. On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest. But, as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits.

What usually happens? The show doesn't come off very well. He begins to think life doesn't treat him right. He decides to exert himself more. He becomes, on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit him. Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame. He becomes angry, indignant, self-pitying. What is his basic trouble? Is he not really a self-seeker even when trying to be kind? Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well? Is it not evident to all the rest of the players that these are the things he wants? And do not his actions make each of them wish to retaliate, snatching all they can get out of the show? Is he not, even in his best moments, a producer of confusion rather than harmony?

In any case, I cried until I could cry no more. I called B and tried to get him to tell me that he loves me (without directly asking him to say it). It only sort of works. Every single time I hang up the phone with B, I say "love you." Every single time, he answers "okay. Bye." I know he loves me. But I wish that sometimes he'd read his lines right. Then I called my sponsor. By that time, I was able to stop the tears. There was nothing else to do.

There wasn't time for moping through the afternoon on Sunday, as I had done on Saturday. I had plans to meet Hammer at our "German diner." We brunched together and caught up on a lot of things and then went for tea at a beautiful little Japanese tea house where we drank Jasmine tea and ate chocolate mochi. At around 6:00 I headed to my meeting and to meet my sponsor. She told me that I had to call OddBall and cancel the date.

"It's good practice for you," she said.

And so, I did. I made the excuse that I really shouldn't date with under a year of sobriety.

By the time I got home and to bed on Sunday night, I was exhausted. And I was still sad.

On Monday I got up bright and early to teach. Afterwards, I had a special plan. Does anyone remember when I decided to learn to paint Russian icons last May? (I wrote about it here. It was only a few days after I first got sober.) I never went back to work on my icon, until now. On Monday I headed back to the studio. My icon was still there-- just barely beginning, red clay edging the frame and forming a base for the halo. I sat down to work on it, and there I stayed for the next four hours, in quiet contemplation surrounded by burning incense, Russian chant and three or four other iconographers. My task this time was to prepare the clay on the halo for gilding. First I had to sand it very carefully with two types of sandpaper. Next, I had to varnish the clay, rubbing it with a piece of glass. This revealed any imperfections in my sanding and several times I had to begin the process over. When this was finally done, it was time for the gold leaf.

Tatiana, the instructor, explained to me that the clay symbolizes man, as God made Adam from clay and that the gold symbolizes the divine.

"When we pray," she said, "and we pray correctly, there is a union of mind and heart. We are able to connect our divine self to our human self. It is like the gold sticking to the clay. Since we are in the image of God, God is in us."

She told me that to get the gold to stick to the clay, we had to moisten it. Since every task in writing icons is symbolic, the way to moisten the clay was to brush our lips against the icon and breathe on it.

"Just as God breathed life into man," she pointed out.

I had already attached the gold leaf to wax paper and cut it into strips. After each breath, I had to quickly press the gold onto the clay and wait a few seconds for it to stick. Then, with a dry paintbrush, I brushed away the excess. My first few attempts at this were rather miserable and I only got the gold to stick in a few spots. To make matters worse, the gold was so delicate that small mistakes would put a wrinkle in the strip. I felt guilty wasting such a precious material, but after a while, I got the hang of it. For over an hour, breath by breath, I breathed life into my icon and laid down two layers of gold. I united mind and heart. I connected the divine with the human. I breathed life into something.

This whole process was a powerful one for me. I can't quite explain why, but it gave me a tinge of guilt for hurting myself. For disrespecting God's creation. I'm not really a "believer" in God. But, for that afternoon, I was.

At about 4:30 pm, I left the studio. Here's the result of my work so far:




















That night I headed out to an 11th step meditation meeting. The speaker reminded me a lot of myself. She also lost her father as a little girl and she also made a decision not to believe in anything greater than herself. When she came into the program she didn't have any belief in God or any concept of God, but she proceeded anyway. For some reason, hearing her talk, matched with my iconography experience, things started to make some strange kind of sense to me. I imagined all of the step-work I'm doing now as the sanding and the varnishing of the clay-- necessary prerequisites to being able to lay down the gilding. And even when the clay is prepared, it's not easy to apply the gold. Every small piece has to be lovingly and carefully applied with a new breath. I can't quite explain the spiritual shift in understanding that happened for me, but that is where I was at.

In any case, that night I went home to watch 24. Dan was back in town after his trip for Florida, awaiting more interviews for his teaching programs, and so he came over to watch with me. I quickly caught him up to date on the plot. Afterwards, we talked for a while, but I couldn't stay up too late, as I had hardly gotten any sleep over the weekend and it was catching up to me.

Tuesday was Brick's birthday. Because I believe in what B has lovingly termed the "dictatorship of the birthday," I had to put my feelings aside and wish him a happy one. I called him just before midnight to be the first one to greet him. He didn't pick up the phone, but I left a message telling him that I love him and that I'm proud of him. The next afternoon, he sent me a text back: Thanks... i love u.

Tuesday was also a birthday for my home group-- the 13th anniversary of its founding. The meeting was supposed to be huge, so after teaching and lunch with B, I got there at around 5:00 pm (for a 7:00 pm meeting!) to drop off the milk and save some seats for me and Meema. Would you believe it? There were already tons of people there! I saw OddBall milling around.

"I completely understand," he said, in reference to my cancellation of Monday's date. "But how much time do you have now?"

"Almost ten months."

"Oh! So, you're almost to your year," he smiled.

"Yes," I smiled back.

Shit, shit, shit, was all I was thinking, though.

In any case, everyone was abuzz with one opinion or another about the night's speaker. Apparently, he is quite a character. He flew in all the way from LA to talk to us. Before the meeting began, I went out for a quick bite with Cherubino and a new "sober sister," Cortland. When we returned to the church, I saw Meema in our seats and she was sitting with Talis. I've only seen Talis once since I fired her as my sponsor and even though I've called her twice, she has never returned my calls. Nevertheless, I'm still sickeningly sweet to her, as she is to me.

"Thank so much for saving us seats, Hyde!" she smiled. "I think there's room for my boyfriend here too!"

There was no room for her boyfriend, nor was there room for her. I had only saved two seats-- one for me and one for Meema. In order for Talis and her boyfriend to fit, we had to push down some other seat markers on the pew and I felt guilty doing so. It was really annoying, but I bit my tongue and didn't' say anything.

The speaker was great. It was incredibly moving and he was charismatic and phenomenal. Afterwards they did a "countdown" for the anniversary. First they asked members of the steering committee to stand up, then members who had chaired a meeting, then members who were sponsorship chairs or activity chairs, etc, then coffee people, greeters, etc. Pretty soon, the whole meeting was standing-- over 400 people. Then, they asked those under a year to sit back down, then those with two years, three years, and so on. It was amazing to see those still standing with ten, twenty, thirty, forty and one man with nearly fifty years of sobriety! If I make it fifty years sober, I'll be 77! I was so overwhelmed with emotion at the scope of what is being accomplished by those of us in the rooms. I used to be so much more cynical, but I'm now surrounded by people who are actually (in the approximated words of Gandhi) "being the change we want to see in the world."

Last night, I was exhausted by the time I got home. I talked to Liu on the phone for a while, and then to both of my sisters and my mom! I also started reading The Triads by Gregory Palamas, a 14th century Orthodox scholar, a proponent of hesychastic theology, or mystical prayer. It was recommended to me by Tatiana at the iconography school.

But in spite of everything, there is still one nagging and gnawing thought returning to my mind with every thought cycle... Narc, Narc, Narc. It hurts and I hate it. Last night at around 11:00, I sent a text to my sponsor:

I'm dying. I want to text him so badly. Going to take a shower to keep myself away from the phone. I feel like I'm white knuckling it with Narc. It's maddening!!

Pray. Take it one day, was her reply.

So, that's what I'm trying to do. But it hurts so fucking bad. It hurts so much more than it shows... more than I will ever let on.

But, I'm trying... I'm still trying...

love,
h

Keeping it "Semi-Real"

Here's a little update:

Under the tutelage of Bezoukhoff and shortly after a viewing of Zodiac, the following message was sent to Narc:

Well, I hope you get done what you need to do. But frankly, I thought this was a rather strange email. I’ve known you for a pretty long time. You’ve had a lot of this on your plate for a while now and it hasn’t precluded you from being able to “surface.” If you don’t want to see me because you don’t want to see me, simply say so. But this just seems kind of cagey and leaves me feeling strange.

Anyway, take care--

Hyde

I am nervous, but emboldened by my own audacity. I still hate this.

I can't breathe

Narc to Hyde:

Knew it was only a matter of time...!

http://www.esquire.com/the-side/link/24murders022007

Narc

Hyde to Narc:

Ha ha ha ha!!! Jack is definitely a hunter...

PS: You are rather "underground" these days... I don't mean to keep texting you, but I miss hanging out. Wanna do a movie night or something soon... you can continue my '80's movie education...

love,
Hyde

Narc to Hyde:

Balancing quite a few projects at the moment: "Oceans" fundraising; friend's site re-design; biz plan for video community; reality show; medical bills; and now new writing class... Will re-surface soon, let you know

--Narc

I don't believe him.

TT's Tongue

I was supposed to spend the evening with Hammer watching Borat until I decided I was too lazy to meander down to the West Village. So... how did I end up with TT's tongue down my throat?

I really don't understand why he is still interested in me. But he really is... He told me that he is "lusting for me" and he thinks I am "an amazing woman." He said that he's "trying to behave," but that I make it difficult because I'm "so damn cute."

That all freaks me out. I don't even understand that... it's like he's speaking another language. I felt nothing... numb... I wanted to laugh as if it were all a joke. I felt out of myself and distracted and annoyed that I don't know how to say "no" when someone wants to put his tongue down my throat.

With a tongue in my mouth (and a pang in my gut) all I can think about is Narc. Meanwhile, Narc has been ignoring me all week long. On Thursday morning I got the gall to send him a text: I hate it when you don't answer my texts, I wrote. I hope everything is OK...

(Of course I had to couch it in a way that made it look like I was merely concerned about HIM. Nothing is allowed to be about ME... God forbid!)

He wrote back: Am still here. Going to get my blood tested again today...

And that was the last I heard from him even though I called him last night and then texted him around 10:00 today: How was your day?

Narc isn't interested in me right now. And so, I have no power. I have to just accept it and wait. I can't have him until he summons me again. I hate it.

I am overwhelmed with guilt and self hatred these days. Things are coming up for me that I haven't allowed myself to think about ever. I told my therapist something today that I've never told to another living soul. It has thrown me into a state of confusion. It makes me hate myself, but I know that it is a step towards coming to terms with myself. Everything is in flux. I don't know who I am. With Narc, it's easy-- I'm negated. When I'm with Narc, I have to be Narc. There is no Hyde. I'm annihilated and I love it. Yes... that's why I like it, I think. I am relieved of the burden of existence. (Except that never really works... part of me always remains and it gets eaten away at more and more each time). But with TT, I don't know who to be. I don't even know who to be when I'm alone with myself. I think that's why it's harder for me to blog these days.

I had a good day today-- a really difficult therapy session in the morning, some work on my fourth step, coffee with Anxious (and a shopping spree at Mac) and then an evening AA meeting.

I didn't think it would end up like this-- 1:30 am and my new hot pink lip lacquer all kissed off.

I saw PumpedUp tonight. He was a little tipsy and told me that the last words that IrishBird said to him were "I don't ever want to speak to you or see your face again!" He was sad. He gave me a Cheers t-shirt which I love. Is it weird for an alcoholic to cherish and want to wear a t-shirt from her favorite bar?

I kissed TT, but I'm so anxious about Narc tonight. If only this were the old days, I'd be drunk right now... I could call Narc drunk. We would go to the Patriot and I could feel passionate.

It's hard to find passion when you have no fucking clue who you are anymore.

Ugh. I better go to bed. I'm going to a 9:15 women's meeting tomorrow morning.

I'm confused. Did I say that already?

love,
h

End of an Era

IrishBird is no longer at Cheers. I have no idea what happened, but I'm dying to find out. I actually first heard about it from Double-T. Later, I passed by Cheers and saw that they had a sign posted outside, advertising a new Saturday night karaoke hostess. I sent IrishBird an email to ask her about it, but I haven't heard back yet. I feel so out of the loop.

In other news, I keep having the urge to buy Narc roses. I still don't feel in love with him anymore. I think I'm just a sick person who hates herself.

-h-

Half Measures

I'm still musing about whether or not to end the blog. Mystic-- I have to say, you hit the nail on the head in terms of how I've been feeling lately about all of it. But, in any case, I haven't shut this place down just yet. And I also haven't gotten rid of Narc just yet... Oh-- and the day after Valentine's Day wasn't the last time I had sex with him either. (I know, I know...)

I had a cozy weekend. I didn't do anything too exciting, but the most exciting thing about that? I didn't mind! I actually felt good being in my house and having downtime and doing my work, and that is radically good news, in my opinion.

On Friday I met with Cherubino before a meeting. Brick and I were supposed to hang out later that night, but he cancelled on me. It was the second cancellation of the week-- the first was on Wednesday when he planned to come over but then remembered that he told his sponsor he'd go to a meeting with him. I know that Brick is busy and that he's doing his best to get involved in AA, so I didn't mind the first cancellation... not even the second, as he explained that he was tired from work. We rescheduled once again for Sunday afternoon. When he cancelled on me for the third time, I just couldn't sit with it. It's hard to feel so easily blown off by someone so close. I am learning in the program that I can't change people. And if I can't change Brick (and I certainly can't be friends with him this way), then maybe we just need a break from each other for a while.

I wrote him a text after he cancelled our date: This is the third cancellation in one week, I said. That's not okay with me.

He never wrote back. More than anything, that's the part of it that hurts. I'm trying to learn how to express my needs and express my feelings. And here, where I told Brick how I feel, his response was to give no response. My feelings warrant no response.

That whole thing has been gnawing at me for the past few days. But, it's strange. I know I did the right thing for myself, so I'm also at peace with it, and I think that I'm able to let him go.

On Sunday night, after AA, I came home to watch the Oscars in bed. I fell asleep shortly after they ended, only to be woken up by the phone ringing at 1:30. It was Narc; he was drunk; and he wanted me to come down and see him.

"I can't. I'm sleeping," I murmured. "And besides, I have to go teach tomorrow."

"I lost my cell phone," he said. "I had a party over here... didn't even leave my own house... and the cell phone is gone."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," was all I could manage.

I was exhausted on Monday morning, but somehow made it through my class. When I got home and sat down to check my email, there was a message from Narc.

Hey! Looks like I am truly stranded in a Kafka-esque moment, here... A friend of mine made off with my cell phone last night (strangely enough), and Verizon has now shut off my land line (long story), so it looks as if I am stuck, incommunicado...

At any rate, was wondering if you wanted to stop by, but I suppose that will depend on when you end up checking your e-mail...! Should still be able to receive calls, however, so do ring when you can

--Narc

What a strange email, right?

On Sunday night, my sponsor and I had laid out a schedule for me for the week, and I made a commitment to keep it. So, I looked at my schedule for the afternoon-- half and hour of work on my fourth step, grocery shopping and a few hours of reading for school. No room for Narc. I'd have to tell him.

Woah! That is a very unlucky turn of events. I remember you told me about the cell phone last night when you called, but your land line is gone now too???

Anyway, I would love to come by, but I'm tied up in the library for most of the afternoon and then I've got AA tonight. I could come after, though, for 24 if you want? Just let me know before 6:00 pm if you want me to come. I'll check my email on and off until then. I could be there by 9:00 if I come straight from my meeting.

Thank god for seamless web, right? At least you can still order food... ;)

love,
hyde

He didn't write back to me right away. So, as I was about to head out to the library, I called him.

"I want to see you," he said.

"Yeah, but I've got work to do this afternoon," I explained. "And I'm really trying to be a good student this semester-- get in touch with my former self, you know?"

"That's too bad," he said. "I really wish you were here right now."

"I could come later tonight."

"Earlier is better," he said.

"Umm... I don't know, Narc..."

I could feel myself losing resolve fast. It's as if it all just leaked out of me.

"I could come in an hour or two? That would give me a little more time to read. How 'bout I come from 4:00 til 6:00. That's when I have to head to AA."

"4:00 is too late," he said. "I'm ready for you now."

"I don't know..."

He knew he had already won. Just fold, already, Hyde!

"Okay. Give me an hour to get there," I said.

"I'll try to wait to masturbate until you get here," he said.

What kind of life is this? I wondered.

Anyway, I hung up the phone with him and jumped into the shower.

An hour later, he answered the door-- scruffy, hungover and naked... the Narc of my dreams, right? I had been tied in knots between the phone call and my arrival there. I called Hammer and told her I was "conflicted." I knew I was doing the wrong thing, and yet I felt compelled to do it anyway. But as soon as I saw him, that all melted away. I was back inside that little bubble of non-reality. Nothing matters in Narc-world... in Narc-time. Until reality creeps in and rears its ugly little head, that is...

Anyway, we had lots and lots of sex-- just like the old days. And he told me that he loves me, as sex or alcohol sometimes prompts him to do. I felt content... I honestly did... that is, until I started to feel uneasy because I know, I know what I want for myself now and Narc is not it. But how can I feel anything other that content when he is holding me and being sweet? I don't know...

At one point, his doorman buzzed off that his friend dropped off his cell phone with the front desk.

"I'm going down to get it," he said. "Stay here in bed and wait for me. Don't get up and don't get dressed."

Why do I like being bossed around by him?

Later on, he wandered out into his living room which was semi-trashed from his party the night before.

"Ugh! There's all this junk food here now!" he lamented. "Someone brought all this candy over. I guess it's on sale after Valentine's Day..."

"Speaking of Valentines day," I called to him, still laying in his bed, "You threw my valentine in the garbage."

I don't know where that came from or why I said it, but I did.

"What did you say?" he called back.

"You threw my Valentine in the garbage. In fact-- that's why I left last Thursday."

"No I didn't!" he insisted, coming back into the bedroom.

"Yes, Narc, you did."

Suddenly, I didn't want to be having the conversation anymore now that we were face to face.

"Why would I do that?" he asked. "I'm sure I put it out with the other cards."

"No. It was in the garbage. I'm sure of it. I found it there."

I stopped myself before telling him that I had picked it out of the trash and, in fact, still had it in my bag.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Narc!"

"Well, it must have been a mistake," he stumbled. "I mean-- there'd be no reason for me to do that. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't. I must have just tossed it while cleaning up papers in my kitchen or something. It doesn't mean anything. Don't read anything into it!"

"Okay," I said, still looking at him dubiously.

Later on, the subject of PopStarChick came up. I guess I was on a roll because I decided to pipe up about that one too.

"So, what's the deal with the two of you?" I asked. "Are you still 'together?'"

"Um... well, I don't know," he muttered. "I'm here. She's there... There's no point, you know? It's not really..."

"But is she your girlfriend?" I pressed.

"No, well, we just talk once a week and it's just 'Hey, what's up?' That's it... Like I said-- she's there, so..."

"But is it 'Hey, what's up, you're my girlfriend and I love you?' or is it just 'Hey, what's up?'"

"She's not my girlfriend," he said with a little more decision. "I held on waaay longer than everyone told me to. I mean, everyone said to forget about it long ago. It's not going to happen. I mean, if she comes back here at some point, then maybe... But it's not happening. She's not my girlfriend."

"Well... then..." (And now I was a little nervous) "Then, why is her picture still up as your desktop background?"

"What?"

He seemed startled by the question, but he was sitting in his desk chair when I asked it, so naturally he turned to look at the computer screen.

"What, that? I didn't even realize that was still up there!"

"How could you not?"

"It's just background," he stammered. "Seriously-- I don't even notice it there. It's been there so long. No reason at all. It's just background to me now. I don't even see it there."

"Well, I do," I said quietly.

"I can change it, no big deal," he went on. "I can change it right now."

He fiddled around for a few minutes before choosing a black and white landscape background.

"That what it was before," he said.

"I know," I smiled. "I remember you liked that picture from the time we went to the Apple Store in Summer '05."

He didn't say anything else.

"Thank you!" I smiled again.

But it was awkward. I think we both felt a little ill at ease. I certainly felt better that he changed it, but I don't know why he changed it for me. Liu thinks it was probably just to avoid a conflict.

Anyway, after that I had to get dressed to head out to my AA meeting. Narc had plans to go for dinner with his friend Laurie. She had won the money from their Oscar pool the night before (Narc must have recounted the ballots ten times, frustrated that he didn't win).

"We're just going for tapas and a martini or two," he said. "I really can't drink again after last night."

He had blacked out the night before and was all worried that he said or did something foolish in front of his friends.

"I can never just have one," I said. "I don't know how you do it. I always used to get such a headache if I stopped after one-- it was like an immediate hangover."

"I don't get that as badly as you," he said, "but the miracle place is definitely around three-- that's the place you chase all night."

"God, I miss that," I sighed.

But I don't miss the blackouts. And I don't miss the destruction. I HAVE to keep telling myself that.

"Didn't Al Pacino say that?" he asked, "That the best feeling in the world is the one between the second and third martini..."

"I don't know."

"In any case, I'm not drinking tonight," he said. "I'll be home by 9:00 or 10:00. Laurie has to study for her GMAT. She can't make it a drinking night either."

Narc went on to tell me that Laurie mentioned she might check out an AA meeting.

"She said you can find a lot of celebrities there," he laughed, "and that it's good for networking. Maybe I should check it out. I could use that..."

"Maybe you should," I said. I didn't dare go further. Neither did he.

Anyway, I left there, talked to Hammer, ate some pancakes and went to my meeting. I've been trying really hard to reach out to some new women and I saw a few of them there, including a girl named Collie and another I call Dollhouse. Dollhouse and I walked home together, as she lives in my neighborhood.

Last night, I bought two boxes of fresh raspberries and poured them into a bowl and ate them while I was watching 24. It was a little divine. Afterwards, I talked through the afternoon's events with my sponsor and then caught up with Liu on the phone.

That night, I had already fallen sound asleep when my phone rang. Yes, it was Narc again and he was really drunk. I was in such a sound sleep that I barely remember what I said to him-- only that he called. I really need to start turning my phone off if he's going to start with that again.

And that brings me up to date. I'm tired now, so I think I'll go take a mini-nap.

I don't know what I'm doing. I never do... But I know that with every step backwards I'm struggling as hard as I possibly can to get at least one step forward, if not two.

I want to grow and I want to go...

I'm a little afraid of what they say about "half measures." But then again, maybe I shouldn't be too hard on myself.

love,
h

V is for...

Valentine's Day. It certainly went a little differently this year.

Let's backtrack for a moment to Tuesday, February 13th. I had been debating incessantly whether or not to get Narc a card or a gift or a gift and a card or no card and no gift... Finally, I could resist myself no more and I ended up getting him a card and I prepared him a gift bag of candy and an alabaster heart shaped paper weight. I figured it was innocuous enough that I wasn't making any kind of pathetic statement, but I still got to mark the occasion. After all, (my logic went), if I didn't get him anything, it would be living in his reality. If I did get him something, I would be asserting my own reality. Needless to say, we're both probably a little off the mark.

Anyway, on that Tuesday, I sped the little package down to Tribeca, braving rush hour traffic, all the while hoping that I would make it back to midtown for my meeting on time. I was embarrassed as I passed the gift off to his doorman, but once it was done, it was done. It left my stomach in knots, but there was no turning back.

The next day, it was Valentine's day and I woke up to snow flurries. Dan was stuck in town for the afternoon (as the buses to Albany had stopped running) so we made plans to meet for lunch. In the meanwhile, not a word from Narc about my present. Then, just before I left to meet Dan, he sent me a text.

Snow!! he wrote. Pity you're not here.

That was enough to send me off into a mini-tailspin. I emailed my professor that I would probably not make it to class that night and I told Narc that I would come down to see him because "luckily, class was cancelled."

While I was eating lunch, Narc left me some strange voice mail about how he felt like Henry James, staring out his window at the billowing snow flurries... except he was waiting for a delivery of Chinese food and that was sort of unlike Henry James.

Anyway, lunch with Dan was fun. I hadn't seen him in a long time, so it was an unexpected chance to catch up.

While we were eating, I sort of came to my senses and realized that I can't keep destroying my life and ignoring my commitments whenever Narc summons me. (Kind a a good realization, don't you think?). So, I texted him again and told him that in fact, my class wasn't cancelled, and that if he wanted to see me, he'd have to wait until 9:00 pm. He was "disappointed," but I felt good knowing that I did the right thing. I asked him if he ever got my valentine, as he failed to mention it.

Oh yeah, thanks hon, he wrote. I'm munching on the chocolates right now.

I hate it when he calls me "hon."

Anyway, I was really anxious after that. I spent the latter half of the afternoon in the library, preparing for class. It was a great class and I actually learned something brand new! (Not all that common at this point in the PhD). Afterwards I felt motivated and turned on and excited by learning. And I felt like myself again... my old self. My Jekyll self! It was brilliant. Not only that, but I didn't really feel like going to see Narc. I couldn't believe that I had nearly passed up such a rewarding and fulfilling learning experience to go watch Narc play video games and give him blow jobs. (Seriously-- that's pretty much what it's been reduced to these days. The spark is basically gone). The snow on the ground was piling up and I was exhausted. On top of that, Brick had sent me a text earlier asking "Will you be mine?" and I decided that I would rather meet up with him than schlep all the way down to Tribeca to see Narc.

So, I called him to tell him. He was dumbstruck.

"Wait... WHAT did you say?" he asked me repeatedly on the phone.

"I'm tired," I stammered once again. "I just think it doesn't make sense for me to come down there tonight... the snow... and I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow. It's just not a good night for me. I'd really rather go home."

"But... But... But, I could really use some 'cheering up!'" he protested.

"I'm sorry..." I wasn't sure what to say. "I could come by tomorrow morning? After my teaching?" I countered.

"Um... sure..."

"Okay? So I've gotta go now..."

"Um... yeah, okay."

"Okay, Narc... good night."

"Yeah. Happy Valentine's Day," he said bitterly as he hung up the phone.

Such an ending to our conversation filled me with a subtle dread, but it was drowned out by my feelings of triumph and empowerment. I felt so good about having turned him down, about having new priorities, about not wanting to run there!

Anyway, that night I saw Brick (who gave me an incredibly sweet card and a stuffed animal) and the next morning I got up to teach. As promised, I left after class and headed straight to Narc's place. I got there at around 10:15 am.

He answered the door like old-school Narc-- all scruffy and rumpled and half asleep.

"I really haven't gotten up yet," he mumbled. "So, let's get back into bed."

I complied and took off my clothes and got into bed with him and we both fell asleep for another hour or two.

When we woke up, we had sex... maybe the last sex I'll ever have with him. Why do I say that? Because it didn't feel good to me anymore. In fact, I felt a little sick. Afterwards, he got up to take a shower. I could see PopStarChick's picture on his desktop from the bed. They dated for six weeks in the summer. She's been gone now for six months. Why am I still looking at her picture? I started to feel even more sick.

When Narc got out of the shower, he told me that he had to make a phone call-- something to do with his medical bills.

"I'm hungry," I said. "Do you wanna get food first?"

"No. We'll get food after I get off the phone. I don't think I'll be more than an hour."

"Okay, I guess I'll just read while I wait."

Narc went into the bedroom to make his call and I settled in on the living room couch.

I really was hungry, though, and I didn't know if I could wait the entire hour. From the living room, I could see the bag of candy that I had bought him on his kitchen counter. I decided to go for a piece of chocolate.

As I dipped into the bag, I looked for the accompanying card. It was no longer with the gift. Narc keeps all of his greeting cards on display on top of his fridge.

Maybe he put it there, I thought.

I looked through the cards-- most of them were from Christmas and New Year's. A few of them were "get well" cards from the fall.

Maybe he just didn't want to put mine out. He doesn't really talk to his friends about me. Who knows... maybe it was embarrassing. Maybe he put it somewhere else for safe keeping.

I opened the cabinet under the sink to toss my chocolate wrapper, when what did I see? My Valentine had been callously cast into the garbage. I picked it out. It had coffee stains all over it. I felt my heart swelling up and sinking. But other than that, I don't even know what I was feeling. I felt numb and sick all at the same time. I took the Valentine and put it in my bag. Then I sat down on the couch and kept reading, trying to ignore the sick pangs in my stomach.

But, I couldn't.

I texted Hammer to tell her what happened.

Get out of there, right now! she said.

I can't, I protested. What will I say? How will I explain it?

Hammer told me that I don't owe him any explanation, and that if I didn't want to be there, I should leave. Eventually, she convinced me, coaching me through it. I left him a note.

I had to go, I wrote. Call me later. -H-

And then I took off, my heart throbbing in my chest.

I headed up to the West Village to meet Hammer for lunch. I was so overwhelmed by the morning's events that I nearly blocked them out and Hammer and I had a really good time.

About two hours later, I got a text from Narc:

Where'd you go? I got off the phone and saw your note. Is everything OK?

Yes, I'm okay, I answered. Just felt like leaving.

K, he said.

It was strange. A strange, strange exchange.

The rest of the day was rough for me. I went to therapy and then went to AA. I got to my meeting really early and wanted to isolate, so I hid out in the stairwell for a while until it started. A girl that I'm sort of friends with found me there and we ended up having a really good chat. Perhaps more on that later.

And that is pretty much that. He threw my Valentine in the garbage.

On the Friday that followed, I thought I might lose my mind. I really wanted to drink. Luckily, Bezoukhoff was in my neighborhood and we ended up going to see Sonic Vision at the planetarium and eating S'mores at Max Brenner's and then hitting the piano bars with Brick until the wee hours of the night.

Later in the weekend, I started to feel sick. And then, this entire week I was stuck home in bed with that awful cold.

In any case, I haven't seen Narc since I left his house that day. I know it's only been 10 days or so, but it feels like a mini-eternity. We spoke on the phone once for about an hour (which I blogged about here) and we've texted on and off all week long. On Tuesday night, we were both watching American Idol and I kept flooding him with texts, for which I apologized, telling him that I was merely "starved for interaction" from my sick bed.

Aww...! No worries hon, text all you want, he wrote.

Weird...

On Wednesday night I emerged from bed to meet my mom, my sisters and some family friends for dinner-- KW was in town visiting from San Francisco (some of you might remember that I went to her wedding there in August, '05). She and her brother, AW met us in Times Square. It was wonderful to see them, but a little torturous for me, as I still felt like hell.

On Thursday night, Narc and I were texting again.

By the way, more world-conquering news... he wrote.

Hyde: What???

Narc: ---- magazine just announced the top 30 scripts of the year and my script made the list!! Winner announced soon, Grand Prize, here we come...! But then, was there ever any doubt?

Hyde: Yay!!! No doubt from me. I'm so proud of you. Send me the link to the site! I wanna see...

Narc: Just sent email.

Hyde: Cool. I'm in bed now, but will check it in the morning. This is so exciting...!!

Narc: Pffft! You already checked! I'd check you if you made top 30 opera/teacher/historian etc. (poke poke)

What??? What did that mean? I didn't even know how to respond to that last remark, so guess what? I didn't! And that ended that conversation.

I think Narc must be wondering whether I've lost my mind with the way I've been acting lately. First, I didn't come to see him on Valentine's Day, next I left him with no explanation on the day following Valentine's day, and here I am cutting off our conversations!

On Friday I had an emotionally rough day for a whole slew of other reasons. I texted Narc that night.

What's up? I wrote.

He never answered. I'm not surprised. He is probably going to punish me for a while.

Yesterday I went to go see Eugene Onegin with my mom. It was an amazing production and the singers were phenomenal-- Rene Flemming, Ramon Vargas and Dmitri Hvorostovsky (who incidentally looked really hot bare-chested, even all the way from the balcony!).

During the first act, Tatyana pours her heart out writing a love letter to the disaffected, narcissistic, nobleman Onegin. Onegin's response?

Believe me, I give you my word, marriage would be a torment for us... Learn to control your feelings; …… Not everyone will understand you as I do. Inexperience leads to disaster!

My mom turned to whisper to me.

"He threw her valentine in the garbage," she said.

Later, Onegin talks about how he is filled with self-disgust. And by the third act:

I'm bored here too. The brilliance and bustle of society cannot dispel my constant world‑weariness! Having killed my best friend in a duel, having no aim, no work, I have reached the age of twenty‑six wearied by the idleness of leisure; without employment, wife or occupation, I've found nothing to which I could devote myself!

At that point, Onegin decides that he has finally fallen in love with Tatyana, who by then has already married a rich prince who is madly in love with her. Onegin tries to seduce her. But she's too smart for him. She tells him:

At that time, I suppose, in the back of beyond, far from the frivolity of social gossip, you didn't find me attractive. Why, then,do you pursue me now? Why am I the object of such attentions? Could it be because I now frequent the highest circles, because I am rich and of the nobility, because my husband, wounded in battle, enjoys, on that account, the favour of the court? Could it not be that my disgrace would now be generally remarked and would confer upon you the reputation of a seducer?

Forgetting all about Tatyana's declarations of love for him in the first act, Onegin cries out:

If you only knew how terrible it is to suffer love's torments!

Typical narcissism, no?

Anyway, by the end of the opera, she admits that she still loves him and that his return has aroused a whole slew of confusing feelings, but she's grown up and she doesn't want him anymore.

Onegin is left to lament: Ignominy! … Anguish! …Oh, my pitiable fate!

What a fitting opera!

And that is where I am left.

Only one thing is different (and I can't believe I'm about to write this):

I THINK I HAVE FALLEN OUT OF LOVE.

I really think I have.

I think (I think?) that I don't love Narc anymore, nor do I hate him.

Writing this blog has felt like a bit of a strain to me this week. I don't know anything clearly enough to write it down. I may take a break from blogging for a while... maybe forever... maybe I won't take a break at all. But, for the first time, I've had the urge to end this blog.

I want to close a chapter in my life. It's closing on it's own.

V is for... victory?

The Cold that Kicked my Ass...

...has finally started to go away.

I've been in bed since Sunday night, but finally managed to get up and out this morning and am back to teaching. I want to write about Valentine's Day and all that, but I'm now terribly behind in everything, from the 4th step work I committed to, to my reading for class, to returning phone calls and cleaning my house. Ugh!

Anyway, I'll see if I can get some of it done this afternoon. I miss blogging. And I hated being knocked out all week. I guess I forgot what it was like to feel "sick and tired" all the time. I can't say I miss it...

Okay. Now off to teach the rise of the Roman Empire.

love,
h

Sick

I've been sick in bed all day today. It sucks. I'm feeling very tired and very cranky. I hope I'm up to teaching tomorrow morning.

love,
h

Boys

I just got off the phone with the Stallion... I haven't spoken to him in forever! He's still living out in San Diego with his (fiancee? wife?), but he said that they're moving to Portland soon.

It was an incredibly sweet conversation. He told me that he's proud of me for my sobriety and asked me how my birthday party went.

"It was great," I said. "But it was hard to get through a sober birthday-- to do the party differently. You know... without..."

"Without party favors?" he interjected.

"Yeah," I laughed.

"I've been trying to stay away from that stuff too," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I have a baby now."

"What???"

I couldn't believe it... The Stallion with a baby!

"Yup... I have a beautiful son."

"How old is he?"

"Two and a half months."

I congratulated him over and over. I don't know why it made me feel so good... so warm... but it did. Perhaps it's because it's nice to know that everyone grows up-- that it's okay for things to change. The Stallion named his son "Brooklyn."

"My brothers are coming out to visit soon," he said. "And it'll be hard to avoid partying with them, but I try to keep it under control."

Sometimes I think it's strange that I'm still talking to the Stallion. He was a one night stand I met while all coked up and on Ecstasy seven years ago. How can I still be talking to him? How can I be talking to him about his baby? About my sobriety?

I asked him how his mom was doing. He asked about my brother.

"And romance?" he asked. "Are you still seeing that guy?"

"Um... yeah... Well, sort of. He's still circling around."

I told him that Narc started dating PopStarChick in the summer and that it devastated me, but that she then left for Russia. I told him that Narc suddenly planned to marry PopStar but that he had a near death experience and was forbidden to fly, thus putting a chink in his plans.

"You are an amazing woman, Hyde," he said. "And you deserve better than him. You deserve better than both of us... better than what either of us was giving you."

"Thanks," I stammered. I wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

Anyway, we talked for a while longer. The Stallion said that he wants to be friends. He kept telling me that he wants to hang out when he comes to NY.

"I just want to give you an enormous hug," he said. "I just want to squeeze ya!"

I laughed awkwardly.

Before we hung up, he told me that he loves me.

"I really do. You don't know it, how wonderful you are. You don't know how you change people's lives."

It was strange to hear him say that he loves me... now... I mean, the Stallion! He is a part of my shady past-- the drugs, and the indiscriminate sex.

I don't know...

Anyway, a while after that, Narc called. I have had a lot on my mind this week in terms of Narc-- mostly to do with events surrounding Valentine's Day. I have to blog about all that, but I'm not up to it just yet.

Anyway, Narc and I talked for over an hour--mostly about video games. He kept telling me about this game and that... about how he has to kill some dragon and walk around for a long time to get strength. (That is, virtual strength.) His world is small. I tried to tell him that.

I told him what I had been up to for the past 24 hours-- going to the Planetarium Sonic Vision show with Bezoukhoff, eating Smores at Max Brenner's, hitting the piano bars until the wee hours with Bezoukhoff and Brick, going to AA this morning, bumping into my sponsor at Union Square later in the day, buying a rug for my living room, hanging with NDN and making plans to see a play with Hammer.

"You're doing so much!" he exclaimed. "I played FF12 for 10 hours today... and yesterday. I got out for a bit to see Lives of Others, but that's it. I've just been on the phone about hospital bills and getting bloodshot eyes in front of the plasma screen. I probably have about 20 hours left to go on this game."

"I used to feel like I was living the same day over and over and over," I said.

"I still feel like that," he told me.

"Not me. I'm moving now," I answered. "And I'm not sure how it happened or when... but I know it has to do with my sobriety. But more than that, it has to do with being open."

Narc insisted that there's nothing at all he can do to change his life-- that everyone in NY is the same and that no one has anything to offer him.

"Why don't you learn something new, then?" I suggested. "Maybe it'll do you some good to stimulate a different part of your brain."

"I'm not going back for more school," he grumbled. "I did all that."

"I'm not saying you have to go to school. Download a podcast and learn a language. I don't know... just do something different! You can't sit around and play video games all day every day for the rest of your life!"

"I know that," he sighed. "But there's just nothing else to do."

The conversation took a few turns after that-- from the moving conversation I had with a woman at AA on Thursday to Britney Spears' newly shaven head to slash fiction. I told Narc that I didn't know what "slash fiction" is.

"Hydeeeen! You of all people should be into that!"

"Why?"

"Because people take characters from their favorite universe and write them into violent sex scenes. It's not only that-- people do other things with it-- but there's a lot of rape and eroticism."

"Make up things in their favorite universe? Like Pride and Prejudice II?" I laughed. "Mr. Darcy's virility was only surpassed by his devotion to his wife?"

"Yeah, sort of..."

Anyway, Narc was sad and I was sad. "Narc and Hyde" are gone. There is only "narc" and "hyde" now. He mentioned the Patriot to me. I thought of it like a ghost.

There are ghosts all around.

Narc didn't ask me to come down. I didn't want to go down there.

If I'm not running to fuck Narc, who am I?

All my boys are ghosts these days...

-h-

The Truth

I am starting to see. And my neck really hurts. It's twisted up and I can't turn my head. But, I'm starting to see. If I can't drink my feelings away, I can't do this anymore.

Snow on Snow

The snow has finally arrived.

I overslept this morning by an hour and when I opened my eyes, it was time to leave the house. I jumped out of bed, threw on some jeans, grabbed my makeup to apply on the road, and somehow made it out of my apartment, my hair a mess and still in my "Golden Girls" T-shirt. I can't say I was the most presentable professor, but at least I managed to arrive on time.

I knew it was snowing out as I headed into the building lobby, but I had no idea that instead of soft flakes, it would be hard pellets that stung my eyes and my cheeks as I squinted into the gray trying to catch a cab.

Anyway, I'm moody today.

Last night, my old friend Tipu called out of the blue. I haven't seen her in about two and a half years, and even then, it was only for one afternoon. She and I met in the summer of 2002 when we lived together in London. (I was there doing an NEH fellowship. Tipu helped me survive my breakup with B). I don't know why she called me last night, but it was a meaningful phone call. She called me with a message that I needed to hear.

Tipu was happy, of course, to hear that I am still sober, but she also couldn't believe that I was still talking about Narc. She kept insisting that he's a waste of my time and energy.

"Your BRILLIANT. You're BRILLIANT, Hyde!" she kept saying. "You impressed everyone! You're smarter than me and Nipkins put together! You had insights about the reading that no one else had thought of..." (and so on and so forth).

It's always difficult for me to "take compliments," but this time it was even harder. She was right. I remember feeling brilliant back then. I remember impressing everyone in the seminar with ease. What happened to me? What happened to that girl? Why do I feel so muddy all the time?

Listening to Tipu sing my praises, I began to feel like such a failure-- like I've lost something that I'll never get it back. I'll never get it back.

As I hadn't talked to Tipu in quite some time, she hadn't heard most of the Narc drama of the past two years. To me, it seemed normal... normal conversation, but she was freaking out.

"Lose him! He's toxic!" she kept saying. "This is unbelievable!"

I met most of her remarks with silence.

"Think about it Hyde!" she exclaimed. "What if I called you up and told you that I was seeing some guy who called me names, got me pregnant, was only affectionate when drunk, was engaged to some other girl, and I was still sleeping with him? What would you say?!?"

I didn't know what to say.

I just felt cloudy. Snow on snow... (That song was just looping in my head... "Snow had fallen... snow on snow on snow... in the bleak midwinter, long ago..." Snow on snow on snow, was all I could think.)

"You are amazing!" she went on. "You are hysterical and so smart and so sweet. Why haven't you been doing wonderful things with yourself? God gave you a gift with your brain. I really believe that. You have been blessed with something most people don't have. Your intelligence is a gift, Hyde! Why are you wasting yourself on this douche bag? I want to claw him!"

She is what NDN would call a "scrappy" girl, and it was sweet to hear her raging in my defense. But again, it left me feeling blindsided and still all knotted up.

When we hung up the phone, I called Cherubino.

When I was drinking, I pretended I didn't care what happened to me. I pretended that I didn't care about life. ("Just scrap it! Scrap it!" I would say. I "scrapped" fucking everything!) If I had to justify it to myself, if I had to find good cause for throwing myself away, for making garbage of everything, I said that I was sacrificing everything for "love."

I didn't care, right? I was beyond caring?

It's bullshit. I do care. Of course I care. And talking to Tipu made me realize just how much I care about the things that I sacrificed to my alcoholism and the things that I sacrificed in order to maintain this relationship with Narc.

I'm starting to feel like I'm in a hole that I'll just never crawl out of. I've lost too much. I can't be that same girl that impressed Tipu five years ago. She's gone. She's gone. I gave her up, and even if I want her back, she's gone.

(Wouldn't it be so much easier if I really believed that I can't get out of this hole? If so, I can just give up. Then, I can drink again. Then I can live inside an illusion).

I said all that to Cherubino. Her response?

"Keep it simple, Hyde. Just stick to the schedule we made for this week. Just do the things you committed to do tomorrow. If you just stick to your schedule one day at a time, miracles will happen. Don't worry about the results just yet. There is no instant gratification. You'll get to where you want to be, but you can't have it all at once. Just trust me. Put one foot in front of the other and do what you have to do tomorrow."

"Okay," I said.

But, I don't want to do what I have to do.

Even though I love school, I don't feel like going to class tonight. Snow on snow... it's snowing out, right? I want to say that it's all too hard for me... a magnificent magnetic pull back to drinking.

But I can't let that happen. I CAN'T.

Why is this all coming up for me now? It's suddenly much harder not to think about drinking than it was even two weeks ago...

Maybe it's because I'm allowing myself to see a little bit more.

Last night, talking to Tipu, I had one of those moments of clarity about Narc-- the unmanageability of it all was so clear. And yet, here I am, still trying to manage it. Wondering whether or not he got my Valentine's gift... as if it matters... wondering whether or not I should text him "Happy Valentine's Day," as if that makes an ounce of difference in my life.

That's not who I am, even if that's who I've been for the past three years.

Tipu reminded me of that.

I want to grab the thread of it all and GO. I want to run free. "Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains." I want to cast off those chains. I want to be freed from "the bondage of self." I want to... But I still feel so cloudy.

I have to be cautious. It's slushy and dirty in here.

My head is still filled with snow.

-h-

Blinded

Valentine's Day is foreboding. It's the third Valentine's to pass since I've been sleeping with Narc... Two years ago was the infamous Anxious-masturbation episode. Weird... Anyway, I caved and bought a little something for Narc. I'm embarrassed by my weakness and pitiful, desperate need to express my reality to him, and so I signed my card "from your (not so) secret admirer." I'm going to leave it with his doorman.

In other news, I had the day off yesterday and spent it out on Long Island, catching up with GoldenFinch and playing with BabyBird. He was throwing spaghetti all over the kitchen. I couldn't get enough of him. He's the cutest baby ever.

Last night I went to a really good AA meeting. Afterwards, I met up with Brick. I watched 24 by myself in bed (24 nights seem to have become a thing of the past, and besides, Brick was quickly sound asleep) and then today, after teaching, I had lunch with B.

I'm nervous about the AA meeting tonight because it's the first time I'm going to see Talis since I told her I wanted to change sponsors. I wrote her a beautiful card, so unless she has a heart of stone, she can't stay mad at me. And in any case, I know I made the right decision. Cherubino and I met up on Saturday afternoon to chat over coffee in Union Square. It was a really productive meeting and I walked away with a few new tools in my proverbial "tool box."

But even so, it's been a rough few days for me, emotionally speaking. Everything is fine and dandy on the surface, but just beneath, things are beginning to roil. What am I talking about? Emotions, struggling for breath, like tulips pushing up through frozen Earth. I've been wanting to drink so badly-- to push everything back down.

I was thinking about Narc the other day. I haven't seen him in over a week now and while we've texted sporadically, it's been all about nothing. It makes me anxious. There's an enormous knot in my chest. Only lately, something strange has begun to happen... it feels as if someone is trying to pick that knot apart. And then... what's that? It's not just anxiety, but it's sadness. It's hurt. I must be sitting on mountains of hurt. Anger? Frustration? I'd rather leave well enough alone, but I know that if I want to stay sober in the long run, I can't. I'm so afraid of myself that I feel queasy all the time.

Narc and I will end. Narc and I will end.

Yes, that is what I was thinking when he texted me yesterday, asking whether or not it was true that FOX was blessing us with 2 hours of 24.

Yes, it's true, I wrote. Funny you texted me. I was just thinking about you.

"Thinking," eh? Naughty thing... came the reply.

It disturbed me. I don't know why. Maybe it's because he made light of my uncomfortably frank honesty by sexualizing it. Maybe it's because I get weirded out by my own sexuality when I'm confronted with it when I'm in "Jekyll" mode. Who knows. But I didn't like it.

I don't know what I'm feeling anymore. I love to love Narc and I love to make vast proclamations that I hate him. But I don't know how to be in this in-between place... just trying to find myself... to find what I want.

Last Thursday, Brick wanted to sleep over. I'm not sure whether or not I even wanted him here. But I really wanted to keep the night clear in case Narc called. I told Brick that he could come over, but only with the understanding that if Narc called, I was leaving.

"Can I stay in your house, even if you go?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You made Narc number one, Brick number two and yourself number three," my sponsor told me.

Did I? I didn't even think about what I want. Do I want anything? I don't know... I don't think so... I want this anxious knotted feeling to go away. I know that much. I want my feelings to go away. That leads me back to wanting to drink. But, I don't really want to drink anymore. I just want the feelings to go away.

It's much easier to be blinded by love. Or Booze.

Yes, it's much easier to be blinded. Only, it can't last. At least that's the premise I'm working on...

Happy Valentine's Day!