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
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
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...!
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-
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-
Sunday, March 18, 2007
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
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
Thursday, March 15, 2007
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-
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-
Monday, March 12, 2007
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-
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-
Sunday, March 11, 2007
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-
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-
Saturday, March 10, 2007
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