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-