Monday, November 03, 2008
Day Three
So ... we cut down to six a day on the weekdays for a week.
Then, we did four a day for a week.
Then, we practically gave up, until we changed our minds.
I got really drunk on Halloween. Mostly, on accident. We forgot to eat dinner, and had a beer at a friend's house while getting ready. Then, we stopped by a party. We were supposed to hit up one of my friend's band's shows. A bunch of people were going to be there. Really missed out on seeing my friend BeckySue in her Sarah Palin costume. :( But anyway, I had one drink at the party. Top shelf, Goose in fact, but too much in one, and not enough food. I was finished for the night.
***
It is so lovely, I don't mind saying, to have someone take care of you. A part of me twinges to say that, but to have someone who cares for you in ways you didn't even know you needed.
I have only felt that once before, and not nearly in the same capacity. I once had someone who was older and seemed to know more, and was there for me financially, but less and less emotionally. And less and less physically, and by that, I mean he just was not around. He got a promotion and had to travel more and more for his job. It got to the point where the money he gave me before he left felt like allowance. And when he was gone it was five-minute conversations on the phone and good night. And when he was back it would be fighting or he wanted to hang out with the guys or he wanted to relax after working in Los Angeles, or Dallas or San Antonio or Denver or Phoenix, or wherever else.
It got to the point where wanting to spend time with the person put me in the "needy" category. I'm not saying I didn't whine. I probably didn't handle it in the most mature fashion.
I've been on both sides of that argument -- the needy one, the wanting time one, and the other.
Do you know that feeling where you recite something someone older once told you? Something maybe you didn't believe at the time, or think about since until you hear yourself saying it?
That's how I feel when I have that argument.
***
Lately, the thing I've been realizing, though, is how much work it takes to maintain something, even so wonderful.
I once wrote or believed or came to defend the idea that happiness takes work. I decided at some point, though, that I would rather work to be happy than to stay miserable, because neither is automatic. I just got used to one over the other.
The same is true for relationships, except it's three-fold, because there is you, and the other person, and the relationship. It's best to remind myself of all these layers, just in that all three involve work. To some that may sound simple as well, but I've spent so much time healing on the individual level; it helps to remember.
Omg, though, I swear sometime I will write about something else, but it is the most wonderful feeling to love and be loved, to feel understood, to be excited about everyday things, and the future. It is truly overwhelming, in the best way one could imagine.
I'm just happy.
I'm dying for a cigarette, and I am happy as fucking hell.
So ... we cut down to six a day on the weekdays for a week.
Then, we did four a day for a week.
Then, we practically gave up, until we changed our minds.
I got really drunk on Halloween. Mostly, on accident. We forgot to eat dinner, and had a beer at a friend's house while getting ready. Then, we stopped by a party. We were supposed to hit up one of my friend's band's shows. A bunch of people were going to be there. Really missed out on seeing my friend BeckySue in her Sarah Palin costume. :( But anyway, I had one drink at the party. Top shelf, Goose in fact, but too much in one, and not enough food. I was finished for the night.
***
It is so lovely, I don't mind saying, to have someone take care of you. A part of me twinges to say that, but to have someone who cares for you in ways you didn't even know you needed.
I have only felt that once before, and not nearly in the same capacity. I once had someone who was older and seemed to know more, and was there for me financially, but less and less emotionally. And less and less physically, and by that, I mean he just was not around. He got a promotion and had to travel more and more for his job. It got to the point where the money he gave me before he left felt like allowance. And when he was gone it was five-minute conversations on the phone and good night. And when he was back it would be fighting or he wanted to hang out with the guys or he wanted to relax after working in Los Angeles, or Dallas or San Antonio or Denver or Phoenix, or wherever else.
It got to the point where wanting to spend time with the person put me in the "needy" category. I'm not saying I didn't whine. I probably didn't handle it in the most mature fashion.
I've been on both sides of that argument -- the needy one, the wanting time one, and the other.
Do you know that feeling where you recite something someone older once told you? Something maybe you didn't believe at the time, or think about since until you hear yourself saying it?
That's how I feel when I have that argument.
***
Lately, the thing I've been realizing, though, is how much work it takes to maintain something, even so wonderful.
I once wrote or believed or came to defend the idea that happiness takes work. I decided at some point, though, that I would rather work to be happy than to stay miserable, because neither is automatic. I just got used to one over the other.
The same is true for relationships, except it's three-fold, because there is you, and the other person, and the relationship. It's best to remind myself of all these layers, just in that all three involve work. To some that may sound simple as well, but I've spent so much time healing on the individual level; it helps to remember.
Omg, though, I swear sometime I will write about something else, but it is the most wonderful feeling to love and be loved, to feel understood, to be excited about everyday things, and the future. It is truly overwhelming, in the best way one could imagine.
I'm just happy.
I'm dying for a cigarette, and I am happy as fucking hell.
Labels: Drinking, Happiness, Quitting Smoking, Relationships
Monday, August 18, 2008
And I can tell you about the little things so you won't think
About the big things for awhile
Not much phases me anymore. You know that? I went to my ten-year high school reunion two weekends ago.
Of the three events over two days, I went to two of them. First, on Friday we had a happy hour. Which was more like six hours of happy hour. Or six happy hours.
I went to happy hour as usual with my boss(we're cool like that)and my regular happy hour friends. I had a 23 ounce beer, and attempted to eat a slice of pizza. I couldn't, because I felt like I was going to ralph from nervousness.
So, just a little while later I decided to take a walk alone from the Downtown bar where we were to the other place where everyone would be.
Just some highlights, and I should add I drank nothing but Absolut and Red Bull for the rest of the night.
I poured my heart out
it evaporated ... see?
No, it's really not that dramatic.
But I reunited with people. Strangers. Myself. And it was wonderful.
I hooked up with my best friends from back when I was 13, Jolie and Germaine. Jolie said recently we were "down for life." It's true. I was going crazy. I told Jolie even now, 15 years later, I would fight for her. "Do you want to fight? 'Cause I will fight for you. I will fight for you, Jolie." We cracked up.
I told this dude from middle school I was in love with him back then, and he didn't even know I existed. Apparently we had an hour-and-a-half conversation (a friend informed me later, because I had no concept of time). But he was nice, and humble. We talked about school - he went to UH for seven years while working - and his wife, and his eight month old son. He showed me pics of his kid in his cell phone. This adorable little boy.
And it wasn't weird at all. It was nice.
I went up to the class clown from all my years of school, and said, "You know, you are one of my most favorite people I never even got to know. You used to crack me up!"
There were two of those, and I went up to the other one, too. I said, "You and so-and-so - you're my favorite people I never even got to be friends with."
Both were like, "No, that's not true. I always thought of you as a friend. We were always cool."
I don't remember the last time I hugged so many people in one night. It was all so genuine. I thought people would be talking about what they do for a living, or where they went to college, that's it - which bores the fuck out of me - but that's not what happened at all.
It was a celebration. Of where we've been. Where we went. And coming home.
And home, speaking of home, that was such an immensely important part of this: I haven't been in a room or any place with that many people from where I'm from since I left. Since we all left. I'm not sure exactly how that played into things, but I'm pretty sure we all felt it.
And it makes it better, I know
But sometimes it's hard to swallow
In light of reunions, I guess I'm sort of in the middle of another one. And I'm not sure what to say about it at the moment, except thank you. Because it wouldn't have been worth it at all if I felt for one bit like this person was just being this person. For some reason, this person said something to me more real than he ever had.
Do you ever wonder if you really knew someone? I do. Sometimes I think I never did. Then there are times when you think you knew what you wanted to know. Others, you know that in brief moments you understood everything, even though they weren't said.
Since they weren't said, yet you understood, do they need to be?
And if you love someone, really love somebody, do you really love them all the way? Even when it fades away? And are you the one to test that scar and see if it's a scab? Do you really want to double-check and make sure it's healed?
I can be the problem if it's easier
One more thing, and then I swear I'm going to do some work today. One hour before I received some real live words, I spouted some real ones of my own. And I was ready - wrote the break-up song already, ready. Never been that ready.
And yesterday I was OK. And today this hurts, which concludes that things can be right as they are and still hurt. And I'm OK with nearly two years. He said it was a good run. And I guess that's all I can say for now, but I do feel I've said enough.
About the big things for awhile
Not much phases me anymore. You know that? I went to my ten-year high school reunion two weekends ago.
Of the three events over two days, I went to two of them. First, on Friday we had a happy hour. Which was more like six hours of happy hour. Or six happy hours.
I went to happy hour as usual with my boss(we're cool like that)and my regular happy hour friends. I had a 23 ounce beer, and attempted to eat a slice of pizza. I couldn't, because I felt like I was going to ralph from nervousness.
So, just a little while later I decided to take a walk alone from the Downtown bar where we were to the other place where everyone would be.
Just some highlights, and I should add I drank nothing but Absolut and Red Bull for the rest of the night.
I poured my heart out
it evaporated ... see?
No, it's really not that dramatic.
But I reunited with people. Strangers. Myself. And it was wonderful.
I hooked up with my best friends from back when I was 13, Jolie and Germaine. Jolie said recently we were "down for life." It's true. I was going crazy. I told Jolie even now, 15 years later, I would fight for her. "Do you want to fight? 'Cause I will fight for you. I will fight for you, Jolie." We cracked up.
I told this dude from middle school I was in love with him back then, and he didn't even know I existed. Apparently we had an hour-and-a-half conversation (a friend informed me later, because I had no concept of time). But he was nice, and humble. We talked about school - he went to UH for seven years while working - and his wife, and his eight month old son. He showed me pics of his kid in his cell phone. This adorable little boy.
And it wasn't weird at all. It was nice.
I went up to the class clown from all my years of school, and said, "You know, you are one of my most favorite people I never even got to know. You used to crack me up!"
There were two of those, and I went up to the other one, too. I said, "You and so-and-so - you're my favorite people I never even got to be friends with."
Both were like, "No, that's not true. I always thought of you as a friend. We were always cool."
I don't remember the last time I hugged so many people in one night. It was all so genuine. I thought people would be talking about what they do for a living, or where they went to college, that's it - which bores the fuck out of me - but that's not what happened at all.
It was a celebration. Of where we've been. Where we went. And coming home.
And home, speaking of home, that was such an immensely important part of this: I haven't been in a room or any place with that many people from where I'm from since I left. Since we all left. I'm not sure exactly how that played into things, but I'm pretty sure we all felt it.
And it makes it better, I know
But sometimes it's hard to swallow
In light of reunions, I guess I'm sort of in the middle of another one. And I'm not sure what to say about it at the moment, except thank you. Because it wouldn't have been worth it at all if I felt for one bit like this person was just being this person. For some reason, this person said something to me more real than he ever had.
Do you ever wonder if you really knew someone? I do. Sometimes I think I never did. Then there are times when you think you knew what you wanted to know. Others, you know that in brief moments you understood everything, even though they weren't said.
Since they weren't said, yet you understood, do they need to be?
And if you love someone, really love somebody, do you really love them all the way? Even when it fades away? And are you the one to test that scar and see if it's a scab? Do you really want to double-check and make sure it's healed?
I can be the problem if it's easier
One more thing, and then I swear I'm going to do some work today. One hour before I received some real live words, I spouted some real ones of my own. And I was ready - wrote the break-up song already, ready. Never been that ready.
And yesterday I was OK. And today this hurts, which concludes that things can be right as they are and still hurt. And I'm OK with nearly two years. He said it was a good run. And I guess that's all I can say for now, but I do feel I've said enough.
Labels: Ben Folds, Breaking Up, Drinking, Reunions
Saturday, December 02, 2006
November
Just read a blog of my friend Matt's, and realized I too have something on my mind.
I'm sorry if this can't get any better. I'm sorry about all the depressing things I've been saying/doing/writing. I'm sorry that I just can't fix it right now.
I have moments where I am grateful to be alive. To have the ability to speak and write, and dress myself even, and all the things I realized in many summers of camp how many tiny things we, yes we, take for granted.
If I want something to eat I can make it myself. I don't need anyone to put it in a blender and feed it to me in a straw. I can move my mouth in certain shapes that form words and notes and sing a song. And when I sing it, I can hear it. So yes, there is a lot to be grateful for -- that's why they always say the thing about at least having your health, when everything else seems to be in the toilet.
I am lonely, to tell the truth, not for people, for communication, to be understood, which may be the purpose of this blog.
People keep telling me I'll get through these things, and that I'm handling them well, and that I'm strong. But I don't feel that way. I feel like my face and every action and everything is some kind of stage. Because when the sky is falling, whatever that means for each individual person, it can be hard to want to hold your head up.
My friend was writing about the things he'd have to offer a significant other. That's funny, because I was just thinking about that today.
I was thinking about how a year ago I was working two jobs, going to school, getting drunk as much as possible, and sleeping with somebody just regularly enough to get laid when I wanted to while not worrying about getting too emotionally involved.
I did that because I felt hopeless, and lost, and worthless for whatever reason. I thought I had nothing to offer, so I drank. And then eventually, I was either drunk or working and my initial thoughts had become a self-fulfilled prophecy.
That changed when I got tired of that feeling, and so I got back up on my feet. Still didn't mean I was ready to allow myself to be happy. I fell in love, even, and still didn't know how to be happy.
Now, so many other things are going on, that if you don't know about, I am not obliged to go into. But trust me -- things are worse. Way worse. Not drinking, not meaningless sex, but other self-created problems for which I am to blame.
And I can't think about how next year will be better, or next month, or my next relationship, because I haven't been able to even bring myself to see someone more than a few times since Chris and I broke up, much less sleep with them.
I can't say maybe someday. I can't dream up new goals yet. I can't cry every moment. And I can't analyze everything, or turn back time like fucking Superman.
Obviously.
So, that about brings us up to date. Thanks.
Just read a blog of my friend Matt's, and realized I too have something on my mind.
I'm sorry if this can't get any better. I'm sorry about all the depressing things I've been saying/doing/writing. I'm sorry that I just can't fix it right now.
I have moments where I am grateful to be alive. To have the ability to speak and write, and dress myself even, and all the things I realized in many summers of camp how many tiny things we, yes we, take for granted.
If I want something to eat I can make it myself. I don't need anyone to put it in a blender and feed it to me in a straw. I can move my mouth in certain shapes that form words and notes and sing a song. And when I sing it, I can hear it. So yes, there is a lot to be grateful for -- that's why they always say the thing about at least having your health, when everything else seems to be in the toilet.
I am lonely, to tell the truth, not for people, for communication, to be understood, which may be the purpose of this blog.
People keep telling me I'll get through these things, and that I'm handling them well, and that I'm strong. But I don't feel that way. I feel like my face and every action and everything is some kind of stage. Because when the sky is falling, whatever that means for each individual person, it can be hard to want to hold your head up.
My friend was writing about the things he'd have to offer a significant other. That's funny, because I was just thinking about that today.
I was thinking about how a year ago I was working two jobs, going to school, getting drunk as much as possible, and sleeping with somebody just regularly enough to get laid when I wanted to while not worrying about getting too emotionally involved.
I did that because I felt hopeless, and lost, and worthless for whatever reason. I thought I had nothing to offer, so I drank. And then eventually, I was either drunk or working and my initial thoughts had become a self-fulfilled prophecy.
That changed when I got tired of that feeling, and so I got back up on my feet. Still didn't mean I was ready to allow myself to be happy. I fell in love, even, and still didn't know how to be happy.
Now, so many other things are going on, that if you don't know about, I am not obliged to go into. But trust me -- things are worse. Way worse. Not drinking, not meaningless sex, but other self-created problems for which I am to blame.
And I can't think about how next year will be better, or next month, or my next relationship, because I haven't been able to even bring myself to see someone more than a few times since Chris and I broke up, much less sleep with them.
I can't say maybe someday. I can't dream up new goals yet. I can't cry every moment. And I can't analyze everything, or turn back time like fucking Superman.
Obviously.
So, that about brings us up to date. Thanks.
Labels: Depression, Drinking
Thursday, August 25, 2005
The Edge of Reason
I've been reading again. I'm not as mentally lazy and unamused as I was when I was hammered everyday. Go figure. I finished the second Bridget Jones. Then I read The Amityville Horror, which I do not recommend reading at home alone by candlelight. But otherwise, was entertained. Now I'm sorta reading the Bible. Just 'cause.
Yesterday the story of Noah's Arc deeply affected me. I do not have well defined religious beliefs. I don't exactly know where the bible fits in, if at all. But I haven't really picked one up in the last eight years or so. If nothing else, it is interesting.
Anyway, I could totally relate to the story because I think it expresses something universal. Something about this renewal thing I've been talking about so much. The way that it said god created people and the world and night and day; and it was beautiful and good and satisfying. And gave it to man. And then saw what it was becoming, and how it was turning into something he didn't like, that he never wanted. And almost decided to scrap the whole project, but instead decided to keep a little piece and start over.
I guess I could relate to that. Who hasn't felt that way in any situation? Whether in love or career or art? Especially with art. I thought about how so many artists and musicians hate their work, and at most, are never completely satisfied with their output verses their intention, or vision. You ever spent hours on a painting or a paper only to discard the finished product on the count of the crap you considered it to be? It can be painful.
Or ever live in a state of mediocrity that could be acceptable, in a situation that's not necessarily harming you, but that could be improved upon if you just had the guts to start over?
Not to say that the flood in the story necessarily did much for that, considering how hard it is to live in the world today, but then again, the story continues.
I'm exceedingly stressed out, but not. It's odd.
There's no telling everything that's on my mind, everything I have to do, all the money I have to come up with in a short period of time concerning various things.
But there's this calmness to it all. That I've got within me. That it'll work out. It's a confidence in myself that is rarely shaken.
Other than by my drinking. I was exceedingly depressed, and so I drank. But the drinking just made me more depressed. Once I saw the cycle I was going in, and noticed how quickly things were only getting worse, I had no other choice but to end it.
And it made me think about all my drinking habits over the years. This was definitely the worst, but I can't recall a time where I wasn't drinking regularly in the last five or six years. I wasn't always a drunk, but I did notice if I went a week without a drink. Just one.
Working in a bar doesn't help. I've got to get out of there. The funny thing is when all this was going on since I got back from camp I couldn't drink at work. So I was just wasted every other day of the week. Beyond belief. And I'd wake up feeling like shit and pour another one. Scotch or beer. Alone or with others. It didn't matter.
I drank because I felt useless, and then the drinking made me feel even more useless.
But I had my head together, even through it. I know I did because as soon as I stopped and started doing things for myself again, I felt better.
I'm pretty lonely right now. When my friends call me they mostly invite me to bars, and I can't do that right now.
I had sorta started seeing somebody new. But all we did was meet up at bars. I met him one night at Nikki's birthday party, and ever since then I started running into him everywhere. I was pretty stand-off-ish and showed little interest, but it was nice to be pursued. I did begin to think he was a nice, intelligent guy.
But that's not something I can think about right now. And since we mostly hung out in bars, I'm not sure where he'd fit in since I don't want to go to them now. Because we would both basically go out and run into dozens of people we knew and split up and talk to them and meet up at the end of the night to say it was nice to see each other.
He was calling and sending me messages quite a bit for awhile, but yeah, I don't know what's up with that.
Aaron and I speak occasionally, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. The first couple weeks I really wanted him back. Now I don't. Now when I talk to him I just get angry and frustrated. I'm surprising still pretty nice to him. I can't hate him. I wish I could.
But I felt so deceived, because I don't think he knows who he is or what he wants. And he doesn't. He'll even admit that. But he put up the appearance of someone who was not actually an emotional fuckwit.
So when he broke up with me without even being able to articulate a reason, I took it pretty hard. Because everything had been perfect until it just wasn't. It was a total shock. Even all my friends were shocked.
He still can't really explain it. Nor can he explain why he felt so depressed in the weeks after (Hmm, I don't know. I guess it had nothing to do with ending a great relationship for no real reason.). And I think he still is. We had a couple nice conversations and were going to meet to talk in person, but he shut down again. Last time I talked to him I confronted him about it. He apologized, saying he wasn't sure, just like he isn't sure about anything.
Yep. So I'm working on my emotional fuckwit meter. It's a work in progress.
This was prolly longer than necessary. Possibly a work of procrastination. I've got lots to do.
I've been reading again. I'm not as mentally lazy and unamused as I was when I was hammered everyday. Go figure. I finished the second Bridget Jones. Then I read The Amityville Horror, which I do not recommend reading at home alone by candlelight. But otherwise, was entertained. Now I'm sorta reading the Bible. Just 'cause.
Yesterday the story of Noah's Arc deeply affected me. I do not have well defined religious beliefs. I don't exactly know where the bible fits in, if at all. But I haven't really picked one up in the last eight years or so. If nothing else, it is interesting.
Anyway, I could totally relate to the story because I think it expresses something universal. Something about this renewal thing I've been talking about so much. The way that it said god created people and the world and night and day; and it was beautiful and good and satisfying. And gave it to man. And then saw what it was becoming, and how it was turning into something he didn't like, that he never wanted. And almost decided to scrap the whole project, but instead decided to keep a little piece and start over.
I guess I could relate to that. Who hasn't felt that way in any situation? Whether in love or career or art? Especially with art. I thought about how so many artists and musicians hate their work, and at most, are never completely satisfied with their output verses their intention, or vision. You ever spent hours on a painting or a paper only to discard the finished product on the count of the crap you considered it to be? It can be painful.
Or ever live in a state of mediocrity that could be acceptable, in a situation that's not necessarily harming you, but that could be improved upon if you just had the guts to start over?
Not to say that the flood in the story necessarily did much for that, considering how hard it is to live in the world today, but then again, the story continues.
I'm exceedingly stressed out, but not. It's odd.
There's no telling everything that's on my mind, everything I have to do, all the money I have to come up with in a short period of time concerning various things.
But there's this calmness to it all. That I've got within me. That it'll work out. It's a confidence in myself that is rarely shaken.
Other than by my drinking. I was exceedingly depressed, and so I drank. But the drinking just made me more depressed. Once I saw the cycle I was going in, and noticed how quickly things were only getting worse, I had no other choice but to end it.
And it made me think about all my drinking habits over the years. This was definitely the worst, but I can't recall a time where I wasn't drinking regularly in the last five or six years. I wasn't always a drunk, but I did notice if I went a week without a drink. Just one.
Working in a bar doesn't help. I've got to get out of there. The funny thing is when all this was going on since I got back from camp I couldn't drink at work. So I was just wasted every other day of the week. Beyond belief. And I'd wake up feeling like shit and pour another one. Scotch or beer. Alone or with others. It didn't matter.
I drank because I felt useless, and then the drinking made me feel even more useless.
But I had my head together, even through it. I know I did because as soon as I stopped and started doing things for myself again, I felt better.
I'm pretty lonely right now. When my friends call me they mostly invite me to bars, and I can't do that right now.
I had sorta started seeing somebody new. But all we did was meet up at bars. I met him one night at Nikki's birthday party, and ever since then I started running into him everywhere. I was pretty stand-off-ish and showed little interest, but it was nice to be pursued. I did begin to think he was a nice, intelligent guy.
But that's not something I can think about right now. And since we mostly hung out in bars, I'm not sure where he'd fit in since I don't want to go to them now. Because we would both basically go out and run into dozens of people we knew and split up and talk to them and meet up at the end of the night to say it was nice to see each other.
He was calling and sending me messages quite a bit for awhile, but yeah, I don't know what's up with that.
Aaron and I speak occasionally, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. The first couple weeks I really wanted him back. Now I don't. Now when I talk to him I just get angry and frustrated. I'm surprising still pretty nice to him. I can't hate him. I wish I could.
But I felt so deceived, because I don't think he knows who he is or what he wants. And he doesn't. He'll even admit that. But he put up the appearance of someone who was not actually an emotional fuckwit.
So when he broke up with me without even being able to articulate a reason, I took it pretty hard. Because everything had been perfect until it just wasn't. It was a total shock. Even all my friends were shocked.
He still can't really explain it. Nor can he explain why he felt so depressed in the weeks after (Hmm, I don't know. I guess it had nothing to do with ending a great relationship for no real reason.). And I think he still is. We had a couple nice conversations and were going to meet to talk in person, but he shut down again. Last time I talked to him I confronted him about it. He apologized, saying he wasn't sure, just like he isn't sure about anything.
Yep. So I'm working on my emotional fuckwit meter. It's a work in progress.
This was prolly longer than necessary. Possibly a work of procrastination. I've got lots to do.
Labels: Addiction, Books, Career, Depression, Drinking, Relationships
