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September 29, 2006

There'll be good times again for me and you

It's been a pretty damned great week. What a fucking relief.

Last night Francis and I went to see John Hodgman interview Neil Gaiman at FIT.
Francis has already written about it in his own blog, so I don't need to say too much else, but I'll add that John was an inspired choice of interlocuter, and that Neil Gaiman is both quick-witted and gracious, and a delight to listen to. He read two poems, and since one of them is a BREAKUP POEM I'm going to quote it here in its entirety in addition to just linking it. A breakup poem that includes zombies. It's like he's writing Just for Me.

The Day the Saucers Came
Neil Gaiman

That day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn't notice it because

That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-man's nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came
And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,
You didn't notice any of this because
you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.

Posted by Rose at 12:09 PM | Comments (3)

September 27, 2006

Kiss me on my salty lips

We just had an utterly amazing anniversary meal at Applewood, on 11th Street in Park Slope.

Amuse-bouche -- uni and heirloom tomato soup

Diver scallop with bacon, red cabbage, and pea-shoot pesto -- paired with a Pinot Gris

Halibut with garlic “au jus”, bone marrow, and royal trumpet mushrooms -- paired with an Alsatian Riesling

Duck-fat poached lamb tenderloin with polenta and roasted daikon and turnips -- paired with a Rioja

Amuse-bouche -- mint ice cream on a brownie

Cheese course, with four cheeses I can't remember, but which were all fabulous, and went perfectly with the Montepulciano they were paired with.

Poached pear with almond financier and crème fraiche -- paired with a Muscat

I really don't have anything to add. I just loved the meal so much that I wanted to write it down. Extra points for our adorable waiter, who had splendid ink and piercings, and who I hope got to have some of the lamb after hours (he told us, after we raved about it, "Yeah, we're all totally jealous about that, I won't lie").

Posted by Rose at 10:17 PM | Comments (3)

Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream


Francis was irritated about karma yesterday; he's found a wallet and a cell phone over the last few months, and he went to a good deal of effort to make sure those made it back to their owners. I reminded him that I'd done the same thing just last year; someone left a wallet at Yarnivore, and I went home the long way so that I could drop it off. But I also told him that I didn't think karma was quite so literal; for instance, he may be being karmically repaid by having a happy polyamorous relationship and good health.

Maybe I spoke too soon? Because someone dropped off my wallet last night. Unfortunately, since I never updated my address on my driver's license, they dropped it off at my old house. But nevertheless, this is fantastic news! We're going to go get it today.

It turns out to be a major pain in the ass to prove your identity to the DMV. You need six points of identification, and I was really scrambling to come up with it, since I'd lost my wallet that had a few points in it right there. Glad I don't have to deal with it!

Posted by Rose at 05:03 PM | Comments (1)

September 26, 2006

Now I am the richest man, 'cause all I have are these empty hands

I was already planning to use that line from Kid Beyond's "Deep Inside" for a blog post, since it's a Buddhist break-up song, and is completely awesome both as a song and a representative of a very tiny genre.

But it's literally meaningful in addition to just being metaphorically meaningful today, unfortunately. It's certainly true that I'm getting a lot of peace and resolution around my relationship woes by learning to really, truly, LET GO.

However, I didn't mean to let go of quite so much of my material goods just yet.



I've put up flyers, and I think I know where I lost it, so I'm hoping some neighborhood person will find it. But there's all the stuff that'll need replacing, plus about $80 in cash, plus a bunch of business cards and membership cards, and it's all just rotten.

I was just reading about how a moment's inattention can cause us great grief.

I didn't need this much wisdom all in one week.

[Edited to add: The MTA will actually refund a prorated amount of an unlimited Metrocard bought with a credit card. So that's part of my loss allayed. I hadn't put my new bankcard in my wallet yet, and Francis just ordered us new credit cards, since our old ones had expired, so there shouldn't be any monetary loss besides the cash. It's just a bunch of irritation, getting a new driver's license and Social Security card. Grr.]

Posted by Rose at 02:47 PM | Comments (0)

September 22, 2006

When the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me

On the plus side:

Feeling calmer and better. Gynecological ultrasound showed fibroids, but nothing horrible beyond that. Since the acupuncture stuff we're doing is supposed to help with that as well, I'm not too concerned. Although fibroids are hideous and weird. (I'm clearly going to have to work on some positive visualization exercises here.)

Reading a really good book, Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be, by Lama Surya Das. I wasn't actually looking for books on Buddhism, but this one jumped out at me. It's at just the right level for me; I'm not finding it cloying or preachy or hard-to-take at all, and instead have been finding it very calming and reorienting.

On the minus side:

I *haven't* escaped the fall allergy season, and in fact, have some EAR involvement as well as sinus and head pain. It really is always something, you know? Acupuncture=magic, though, so I feel much less crappy than I did this morning. Still fairly crappy, but not in-tears-from-ear-pain crappy. Talk about suffering in the world: I can't imagine being an infant or toddler and having an ear infection. It's bad enough to have one as an adult, but to not have words for your pain? To not realize that you'd eventually get better? You'd think the world was coming to an end.

Oh, and another lesson on loss and suffering: I was reading in the Times about farmers in California who've lost their crops because there aren't enough pickers (since they are almost all illegal immigrants). One man lost nearly 2 million pounds of pears that have rotted. He told the reporter that "he would rather bulldoze the pear trees than start preparing them for a new season."

“It’s like a death, like a son died,” said Mr. Winant, 45, who cares for the small orchard himself during the winter. “You work all year and then see your work go to ground. I want to pull them out because of the agony. It’s just too hard to take.”

Man. The photographs with the article were heartbreaking, too.

Posted by Rose at 01:40 PM | Comments (4)

September 21, 2006

My brain's repeating

I didn't expect to find deep thoughts in a NYTimes article about vegetables, but there you go.

"... just because a love isn’t reciprocated doesn’t mean it’s meaningless."

Feeling a little better than yesterday, though it would be hard to feel worse.

It's a beautiful day out. Wish I could let it cheer me.

Posted by Rose at 02:23 PM | Comments (1)

September 20, 2006

Better that I break the window

More. Bad. Mood.

Woke up too early this morning, after a nightmare that involved my long-gone crazy ex and included a lot of very button-pushing junk. Laid in bed for about an hour, trying to get back to sleep.

You could call my thoughts suicidal, but that wouldn't be exactly right. I understand the cost of suicide, and if I were actually suicidal, I'd go straight to a hospital. But my thoughts were those *sort* of thoughts, the bad ones from the hindbrain that say "You fuck everything up" and "You aren't good at anything you do" and "Everything is totally meaningless"

I found myself getting upset about the metaproblem, too. Is this what my life's going to be like? Crawling out of depressions, throwing myself at chances at happiness, falling from great heights, which leads to then crawling, once again, out of another depression? It's exhausting, and I'm sick of it. Why do I take chances anymore? Why do I set myself up to be disappointed and rejected?

Why can't I just stay in my little corner, and be content with what I have, and stop believing in a bigger world that has better things in it? I am so fucking stupid, to keep getting myself into situations where my reach exceeds my grasp.

Or maybe the problem is that I'm too bright, that I see too many possibilities. I've often thought I'd be happier if I were just a little stupider, maybe about 20 IQ points.

Francis cheered me out of my despair this morning, and I took some medicine and went to yoga, but the question remains: What does it all mean? And why do I keep fucking everything up? And when am I ever going to learn?

Life doesn't feel like a grand adventure filled with shiny treats right now. It feels like taking test after test that I'm unprepared for, and failing, over and over, while I *tell* myself that *actually*, life is a grand adventure filled with shiny treats. I'm so tired of trying to talk myself into life.

Posted by Rose at 12:44 PM | Comments (3)

September 19, 2006

I may never see the light

Grr. I've had three doctor appointments in the last week, for checkups, and each of those has led to another appointment.

Physical --> Cardiologist
Optometrist --> Retina specialist
Gynecologist --> Ultrasound

In each case, the doctor in question has said that I "don't have anything to worry about," but that they "want to be sure" about whatever thing it is (my heart, my optic nerve, my uterus). I can't actually tell if it's just ass-covering or real concern. It feels a little like I'm the buck that's getting passed. Also, the part where the doctor wants me to be worried enough to make another appointment, and then to take a couple of hours to go see a specialist, who's going to make me fill out forms and repeat medical history and do fancy tests, but to not be so worried that I, you know, *worry*, well, I think that's totally irritating.

I'm in a terrible mood already, and I don't need all this additional crap. And I find myself pissed off at my parents for even having me: Why the fuck did they have a child when they were just going to pass on their legacy of emotional and physical defects? Stupid selfish jerks.

Today? I hate everything.

[Edited to add: My god, could I sound any more like a 15-year-old? Maybe embarrassment will finally be the thing that jars me out of my wretchedness.]

Posted by Rose at 05:12 PM | Comments (0)

Don't try to tell me inaction is not a crime

Oh, more bad days.

This sucks.

Someone wise told me yesterday that, "Sometimes breaking up is a mistake, but being together is also a mistake, and you have to figure out how to reconcile that."

But I don't wanna. Letting go feels absolutely terrible, nearly impossible, and really and truly crushing. I feel so awful. I want him back in my life. I'm totally pathetic.

Posted by Rose at 09:53 AM | Comments (1)

September 17, 2006

I'm feeling like a criminal

Oh, it's been a bad day emotionally.

Just can't quite keep my shit together. Woke up on the wrong side of everything; I didn't wish I were dead, I wished the world would end, that everything would just fucking STOP.

But I did a little yoga, and bawled in the shower, and took an Ativan, and got myself on track enough to go see the new therapist. Which was intense. Interesting. I feel kind of optimistic about this new type of therapy, but it'll take a little getting used to.

Walked around the Atlantic Antic with Francis, and met up with a couple of friends, and that was pleasant. Ran into another friend, and took pictures of her adorable daughter, which cheered me a little.

But my plan to go into the city and get some work done on $pread was foiled by ineptitude on all sides, and I ended up going to midtown but coming back.

My head hurts, and it's been hurting off and on since yesterday, and I feel weepy, and I want to DO SOMETHING, to effect change, to not feel the way I feel, but everything seems awful and pointless. I think I'll go read, although what I'm reading, The Dispossessed, is kind of depressing.

Miserable. I'm just utterly miserable. I feel like an inconsolable failure today. I wish it were bedtime.

Posted by Rose at 06:37 PM | Comments (0)

September 16, 2006

You really can't give love in this condition, still you know how you need it

It's not all gloom and doom around here. I managed to find some time to do a little crafting. I used a bleach pen to put the symbol for "OM" on a t-shirt, to wear to yoga class.

Yes, I'm officially a tool.


I've also cut and recolored my hair since the last time I posted a picture of myself here. I like the pink. Maybe pink can be my new vice, for 35. (I've been taking suggestions for new vices; I figure I'm due for a new one.)

Yoga still helping lots and lots. Reading about yoga, strangely enough, has also been helping. Yoga Journal had some amazingly appropriate articles in their current issue. Still considering meditation and/or Buddhism. Freedom from want would be a damn powerful thing; I'm not at all sure I'd be recognizable as *me*, honestly. I've been want-driven my whole adult life.

Having a bad, gloomy day nevertheless. Edgy and irritable this morning, mopey this afternoon. Feeling helpless. Wanting to fix the past.

Speaking of the past, one of the yoga teachers made me cry the other day. She was talking about focusing on the breath, and on how each inhalation is accepting the present, and each exhalation is letting go of the past. Then she said that even more importantly, each exhalation was *letting go of the breath*. "The breath is our most precious thing, it keeps us alive, and yet in every moment, we are letting go of it. If we can do that, we can let go of anything else."

Me: Silently weeping as we sat in the mudra of calm abiding.


Posted by Rose at 04:11 PM | Comments (0)

September 15, 2006

The world is nothing but an open sewer

In a stunning break from our 24/7 coverage of my psychodrama, here's something even more nauseating: What happened when I fixed the sink.

Our bathroom sink has been draining slowly for ages. Weeks. Months, maybe. We've tried putting caustic drain cleaner down it, and that helped some, but then it got worse all over again. Finally I decided that I would need to take the trap out and clean that.

Taking out the trap went pretty well, after I took out the endless mounds of crap that we somehow manage to store under the sink. Cleaning the trap out was awful, though--foul sludge and hair and horribleness. I poked it through with an old toothbrush, and cleaned the inside walls of it as well, and it was all perfectly disgusting. But on the other hand, it was satisfying, because now! My sink would work!

I washed out the newly cleaned trap in the kitchen sink, and reinstalled it, only to find: The sink still wouldn't drain properly. It was, oh, maybe a little faster. Not much. Not compared to the pile of toxic waste I'd taken out of the trap!

My new theory was that the sink pop-up thingy was somehow not seated correctly. So I went to learn about how sinks go together. I found a nice page of Easy Sink and Tub Stopper Repairs, which seemed like just the thing. I learned all about clevis screws and springs and whatnots, and I went, armed with information from the Faulty Sink Pop-up Stopper page, to fix what was wrong.

Not so much.

I undid everything and put it back together nicely, and NADA. This time, at least, I had thought to bring a bowl, so I could test the draining of the sink without putting the trap back in. Yucky water came out very slowly. My new theory was that the pop-up gizmo was *also* clogged with gunk and hair and stuff. My new theory turned out to be true, but hard to respond to.

I used another old toothbrush, and a hanger, and some (to-be-discarded) old tweezers, and my fingers, and then I really started getting somewhere. Clumps of horror came out. Everytime I though I was done? There was more. I don't really understand how that volume of disgusting substance could be contained in such a small space.

Here's what came out:


My apologies if you have a weak stomach. All I can tell you is that it smelled far worse than it looks.

Here's how things looked before I cleaned up and put it all back together:


At that point, I was getting clean water pouring freely from the sink when I turned the tap, and better yet, stopping when I turned off the tap!

I'm not sure when I've ever been prouder of a household task. It's not so much that this was complicated, but it was certainly daunting, and it was especially grody. And I stuck it through to the very end, not always one of my special strengths. And now our sink is all happy, and water whooshes through it just like it ought to.


Posted by Rose at 05:29 PM | Comments (3)

September 14, 2006

I am wiser now, I know, but still as big a fool concerning you

Finished the fantastically enjoyable work over at National Geographic Adventure, which led directly to a few hours of work today for a marketing company that made me sign a non-disclosure agreement! I haven't signed one of those in ages. And I haven't been in such a ridiculously fancy office in ages, either. It all made me roll my eyes, especially when I was offered "coffee or espresso"; I said I'd love some coffee, light and sweet, please, and was told, "Oh, we don't have regular coffee. You can have cappuccino or espresso."


Today was much sadder than the other days have been. I keep thinking of things not done, and having moments where I feel like I'd rather be miserable, but in the relationship, than miserable and out of it. Things weren't working, I know they weren't working, and yet I am so, so fucking sad. I guess today is a lesson in the "bargaining" part of grief; I keep trying to make the deal in my head, "I would put up with anything, just to have him back!" But I *had* that deal, and I didn't like it very much. In fact, putting up with everything I had to put up with in order to have him? Pretty much sucked.

But the not-having! The not-having sucks just about as much.

And that brings us to the "anger" portion of today's grieving program: Why did it turn out like this? Why? WHY?


Posted by Rose at 09:51 PM | Comments (2)

September 13, 2006

There's no accusation that comes as a big surprise (not this time)

Well, it's done and over. Life is long and strange, so I don't rule out some future involvement with the pain-and-misery-causing boy, but for now, we're kaput.

I feel so strangely numb. I mean, sure, I spent the first few hours bawling, and have periodically burst into tears over the last couple of days, but for the most part? Just numb. Somewhat relieved. I told someone (who told me I was being awful, but she was busted up with laughter) that it's a little like when you have a loved-one who's been terminally ill for a long, long time, and there are lots of scares when you think they're going to die, and you get all worked up, but then they don't, and then, finally, when they die, you're just kind of left there going, "Oh. Huh. I was expecting that. I'm sad, but I'm not surprised." And you're not as hysterical as you were the first time you faced the death. And partly (secretly, shamefully) you're relieved.

We ended it in public, in the West Village, and as I walked away crying some Jesus freak tried to tell me about how he's "been going through some heavy stuff lately, too, but [he] could tell me something that would help," and I had to fend him off. The rest of the way home, I was just the pariah on the train, crying silently. Mostly I was just wet-eyed, but the tears weren't actually falling. Then, in Brooklyn, near my stop, I had started weeping again, and a woman stepped over to me and, without speaking, handed me several tissues. It was so sweet of her, so dignity-restoring and kind and thoughtful. I wondered later if she'd ever been the one crying on the train, or if she just was filled with empathy.

Like I said, though, the tears are less frequent now. I've had some bursts of anger, a few bursts of sudden tears, and a whole shitload of numb disbelief. I tried so hard to make this relationship work. I wanted it so much. In the end? I wanted it too much.

Maybe I should be looking into Buddhism. I mean seriously, dude, I get it: Suffering is inherent in life. Desire is the cause of all suffering. I'm on board here. Yo, Buddha, wanna lend a girl a hand?

Posted by Rose at 01:47 PM | Comments (2)

September 11, 2006

My affection, well it comes and goes

There's a poem by Sharon Olds that I first read in college, nearly half a lifetime ago. I think I was just turned 18 when I first read her stuff, and it was powerful and amazing to read a woman, a poet, using such muscular language, saying such strong things. I didn't read her because of a class or anything; I read her because I was friends with, and used to sometimes babysit for, a poet on the faculty at LSU. Here's the poem that's on my mind today:

Sex Without Love

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

When I read that, as a girl of 18, I thought it was a criticism of people who "make love without love"; I found the second half of the poem to be a kind of sarcastic explanation of what a person like that would be like. What fools we are, as kids.

I read it now as a rationalization, as a woman trying to comfort herself by coming up with some sort of explanation of "how do they do it?" because she loves someone who doesn't love her, and yet the sex makes her feel they should love her, because how could they not? She needs a way to think about it that makes her lover a seeker of truth and not a monster. In the end it sounds to me like she admires the lover, but still doesn't understand.

::many, many miserable sighs::


Rough day today; the high point was successfully cleaning out a sink trap, which was the single grossest household task I have ever undertaken. It made me feel competent, though, and that was kind of great. But the day went downhill from there. More details (on the sink, and the going downhill) TK.

Posted by Rose at 04:48 AM | Comments (2)

September 08, 2006

One thing I know, this pain will go

Things are going much better.

For one thing, I've had a perfectly wonderful birthday today. I'm 35 for reals. And the last few days have been an improvement over the last few weeks, and I am going to take a lot of credit for turning this ship around.

Let's see. I've been to yoga three times now, and I swear I can already feel the difference in my posture and my mood. I had forgotten how I love yoga; it's like running into an old flame and getting back together after 13 years. Not that I've ever done that. But it's like the good version of doing that, where it's lovely and not a total disaster. The physical and the spiritual/emotional parts of the yoga have been very calming, and I'm feeling much better in my body. And it's just great to have the teacher reminding me about staying in the breath, and being grounded, and letting go of the past and embracing the present.

I'm doing on-site copyediting this week, and my colleagues adore me. Seriously. They say nice things to me constantly, of both a personal and a professional nature, and the last three days have been a delight. (Closing an issue! A delight! How can it be?) Editors have come in to tell me they liked my changes. It's like some sort of copyediting paradise.

Clearly I need to work harder to get a full-time office job. I hadn't realized how strongly having positive daily job interactions affects my mood. But it's not a coincidence that the two good days I had last week were ones where I was in an office, and that the last three days have been much easier on me. On the bright side, I have in-office work scheduled for the full month of October, so I have a few weeks to work on getting another gig.

I decided a few days ago to not have a birthday party this weekend, but instead to reschedule for some time in October. This was already a great decision, because it made me feel much more relaxed. But the even smarter thing I did was that I explained to everyone why I needed to do this, and asked for emotional support. That was incredibly hard for me to do, and yet it was exactly right. My friends have been unspeakably wonderful. I feel very loved and cared about. I'm making lots of plans to see people in smaller numbers (one or two at a time) instead of in a party-size group, and that feels great. I'm looking forward to reconnecting with folks, and focusing on accepting their affection. I feel like I gave myself a very important birthday present, and it's one where lots of people get to participate.

Lastly, Francis has been very sweet. He got me lots of small thoughtful birthday presents, and we had a terrific meal at Spice Market, and we sat next to an awful couple who made us smile at each other constantly because they were so ridiculous, and I just spent the whole evening basking in how much I adore him.

What a good birthday.

Posted by Rose at 09:46 PM | Comments (1)

September 05, 2006

My eyes have gone to coal, it's nothing I would be concerned about

Going batshit crazy today. Acupuncture was really good, but I'm a day overdue on some work I put off all weekend, and it's taking up more brain than I thought it would, which is terribly irritating, and I'm feeling anxious and anxious-er.

I should be happy for the distraction, but it's not a distraction, it's just muddling around along with all t'other, and so my head is filled with crap crap crap.

Part of me wants to skip the yoga class tonight because I'm too busy, but I had a beloved professor who used to say that if you think you don't have time to meditiate, that's when you should meditate. I think the same is probably true for yoga.

Why does everything have to be so fucking hard? When does life ever get any easier? I'm just not strong enough to handle the shit it sends me, I'm really not.

Of course, I always go mucking around in the shit and borrowing trouble, so maybe that's my problem.


[edited to add]

I have gone and cheered myself up just the teensiest bit by reading Mimi Smartypants, who always makes me laugh. And of course I get my daily dose of Cute Overload. Who else has the goods? If you think I'm unlikely to have seen it, and you think it'll make me smile, laugh, or even for a moment forget the dismal morass of my emotions, well, send it on over.

Posted by Rose at 05:10 PM | Comments (0)

September 04, 2006

There's beauty in the breakdown

More good, more bad.

Yesterday I woke up at 8 am and decided to go to a yoga class, at Jaya Yoga. Super-nice place, and my new plan is to go three times a week. If I do that for a month, I'll get an unlimited pass. I used to do yoga three times a week, way back in another lifetime, and I loved it. It doesn't seem crazy that I'll renew my love for it now.

I attended the basic class, and that was just right; I didn't need a beginner class, because I know the poses, but the next level up clearly would have been too hard. In this class, I felt challenged, and like I have a lot of room to improve, but I've got a pretty good grasp of the fundamentals. Not too bad for a twelve-year absence.

One of the poses was very intense for me, despite being a "restorative" pose. We lay with one block under our shoulder blades and another just at the base of the head, and then we were to relax our arms at our sides. The intent of the pose was to open up the chest. What was fascinating for me is that three points my acupuncturist works on a lot are in the exact same area, one dead-center on my breastbone, the other two a little higher and to either side. All of those have to do with emotions and adrenaline and agitation and stuff like that. Feeling that area open up and release was incredibly powerful, and I almost wept. I would have, if we'd held the pose for much longer.

That was all the good stuff. Bad stuff: I'm still the walking wounded. Thanks to the miracles of clonazepam, I don't quite feel like throwing myself off anything tall, but it's just not the right drug. It dulls my affect, which is good in that it keeps me from being totally hysterical, but bad, in that even happy things don't quite feel right. I'd like to retry Ativan, if my new shrink agrees. I can't keep shuffling through the days full of pessimism, feeling defeated.

Which is another thing. The fellow in question and I have chosen to take a break, by mutual consent, but it's not feeling good at all to me. I understand that the benefits of such a break are longer-term, and wouldn't probably be apparent after only three days, but still: I hate silence. I hate silence more than I hate just about anything else in the world. This brings up one of the fundamental discrepancies in the relationship. I think silence is easy for him, that it feels natural and right to him to say, "Hey, let's take a break." Whereas for me to suggest taking a break means that I'm at the end of my rope, can't think of anything better to try, and am desperate. And now that we're taking the break, I imagine that it feels like a relief to him, calm and pleasant and like it's giving him space to relax, while for me it feels tense and frightening and oppressive.

There have been other things like this in the last few months. He needs me to be patient; I am impetuous and headstrong and tend to act first and apologize later. And because I'd like to be less impetuous and all the rest, I've been trying so hard, for so long, to do a better job, to be a better person, so that I can have this relationship work out. But today I'm feeling sad and pessimistic and hopeless.

At least tomorrow I have an acupuncture session scheduled, and I should hear back from the new shrink, and I'm planning to go to yoga in the evening. I'm trying so damn hard to deal with my shit, to take it on and get better at things. At 35 (in a few days), though, it so often feels like too litte, too late.

PS -- There was more good today, actually: Francis and I went to the West Indian Day Carnival, on Eastern Parkway, and there were yummy foodstuffs and spectacularly dressed people and some rocking steel drum music. But the lift that gave me only lasted as long as I was there; that's not really acceptable. I'd like something nice like that to cheer my whole day up, you know?

Posted by Rose at 04:27 PM | Comments (2)