Home > Life or something like it > Entry 11/12/2005 06:04:35 PM – Mentat 199

Entry 11/12/2005 06:04:35 PM – Mentat 199

     It’s pretty amazing just how difficult some entries can be for me…  Particularly when the entry that I need to write involves some pretty emotionally intense moments, or traverses into dark places.  This is one of those dark traverses…
     Wednesday,  I took a turn for the worse.   Sometime after I had written the journal entry (early afternoon) from what I recall of things, I just gave up.  I got tired of trying to figure out what the best way it would be to approach Jeannie about my offers for help, and how she routinely would ask for help from me, and then rebuff the help without so much as an explanation why.  As I had mentioned in the last journal entry — she had computer problems and for some reason the computer was rebooting when she was trying to view pages on E-Bay.  I had offered to check out her computer to see whether she had accidentally acquired a virus, or Spyware and offered to load up AVG, Zone Alarm as well as Ad-Aware to make sure her computer was up and running to efficiency.  When the time came when she wanted to go out for lunch with Sam, and I would take the time to check her computer, what she had done was decide to run a defrag to solve her problem and didn’t so much as tell me she had turned down my offer once again to assist in getting her computer up to speed. 
     I took her shrug-off as personal; and decided to cut off my nose to spite my face, and gave up supper for the night.  I had reached the end of the line when it came to my wanting to make offers to help her, and in helping her/paying her back for her generosity, gave up.  Someplace in the middle of this, I had two thoughts going through my mind Wednesday night.  The first is that my pride couldn’t allow myself to accept her gratitude anymore, and that I wanted to pull my way anyway I could until I could land myself a job.  The second was the impulse to run… 
     In that impulse to run, I was fighting two separate thoughts.  The first was to just get dressed, put another day’s worth of close in my backpack, and hitchhike to go home.  The second was to wait to see whether she would pay me back the money that I had loaned them for the replacement washing machine.  I was split between pressing the issue on the money, or whether I would allow her the benefit of the doubt and in "true Christian" faith, see if she would pay back without prompting.  I knew that the money wouldn’t be available until Friday, so I had made the decision that I would be able to hold out without food for another day and see whether she would pay me back then.
     Thursday, some time in the afternoon Jeannie had come up with Sam to see how I was doing.  I still feigned sick, sitting up in bed when they came up to check on me.  She offered to bring up magazines, for which I had said that I would pass on them.  Guess for some reason she thought that my computer was off (when it really wasn’t) and that I was too weak/ill to sit up and either write here, play games, listen to music.  Little did she know that Thursday, when I had stayed up here, I kept the headphones on, listened to some music, played a couple of games (Dark Forces II: Jedi Knight was the biggest one that I tore into for most of Wednesday night/Thursday Morning). 
     However, with the exclusion of making sure my cat was fed, I pretty much had foregone eating again for Thursday. 
     Sometime during the night, around 1:00 in the morning, when I had gotten something like six hours of sleep, and I had a call of nature…  I had sat up and found myself thinking about Will.  This wasn’t the usual pining for what I had lost…  This was more like totally remembering everything I could possibly remember from the beginning when I first chatted with him in Josh’s Rainbow Lounge, to my official break up with him on my 41st birthday right down to lying down after we had broken up and being too numb and too hurt to actually cry. 
     Thursday night/Friday Early Morning  — I wish I had cried like I wanted to 5 months ago.  It would’ve seemed appropriate given that Friday night was officially the five month anniversary for our breaking up and going our separate ways.   However, where I didn’t cry like I wanted to, and almost ached for…  The feeling of loss was most palpable.  I also had the overwhelming desire to go back in time to change the way that I had played things out that way I wouldn’t be where I am today…
     When I woke up the next morning (Friday at around sunrise) I decided to try to pick myself up out of the slump and the funk that I had put myself into when I fell asleep after re-enacting all the good and bad points with my relationship with Will, take a shower, and deal with the issues that I had set in motion when I decided on sequestering myself to my room in the attic. 
     Needless to say, it didn’t go well with Jeannie the next morning.  When she was able to determine where my mind was — she decided on going on the kick-in-the-pants offensive with me threatening that if I didn’t get my ass in gear today, that she would make arrangements to take me and my things to the nearest homeless shelter and be done with it. 
     With the rise of two forms of headaches — the first being the fact that I was beginning the arduous spiral of caffeine withdrawal, coupled with the headache of too much activity after two days without food and little water — I went on the typical offensive along the lines of "pride goes before the fall" and was getting ready to cut off my nose to spite my face; told her that they could take everything that I had brought with me, sell it and take the money, give me the $140.00 that I had loaned them for the washer (which only $100 went to the actual washer as I found that morning from a receipt left on the coffee table from the laundry piles, making me wonder where the other $40 went) and I would pack up myself, a bag of clothes and go home to deal with the bullshit my family would throw at me for failing, and coming home with my tail between my legs. 
     I don’t remember exactly the turn of events at that point.   My blood pressure had been at a dull roar by the time I had woken up around sunrise (and the tinnitus in my right ear had actually gotten down to a low hum), but that rapidly changed around the point when she had used the term [homeless] shelter and I could feel it skyrocketing again to levels well above what I had experienced when I was working at Atlas Supply.  So much had been said both in anger, in admission, in vulnerable honesty…
     She had explained to me that it wasn’t my place to assist her in her duties around the house.  Jeannie had explained to me a whole lot of reasons as to why she wouldn’t accept such help.  Part of it sounded too much like the same willful pride that I had been exhibiting the last two days in sitting in my room and not accepting any generosity (I’m really beginning to think that is a quality of a New Englander as I recall my family and many of the friends that I made in the north refusing the sort of assistance that I’d offer).  Part of it sounded perfectly logical and equitably acceptable (although the more that I sit here, the more I realize that some of the choices Jeannie had given as examples are red herring at best). 
     I’ll be back in a bit…  While talking about the events is relatively easy; there are repercussions and emotional issues that I need to think about a little bit more before I commit them to type… 
[Last Edited 11/13/2005 12:08:57 AM]
     And during the interlude, I went from trying to get my feelings in order to watching the movie Practical Magic and being faced with the Hollywood dream of wishing for a love and the effects of wishcraft and the confusion I’ve been feeling about wishing for love, and being afraid of what such wishing has done in my life.  *sigh*  Nope…  it didn’t help in the least.  I feel as muddled now as I did when I went downstairs to take my break… 
     But getting back to where I was prior to the break. 
     During Friday Morning when Jeannie had made the decision of taking a boot to my butt, she had brought up the fact that a couple of days prior she had made the offer to throw a sort of "Debutante Ball" to introduce me to some of the other queerfolk in the area, for which I had sort of thanked her for wanting to do it, but I had turned it down (I’ll admit that she didn’t get it right during the ass-kicking moment Friday — but the effect was there and I didn’t correct her in the process).  She had asked me why, and I have to say that I didn’t give her all the reasons why I had turned it down.  I recall telling her that I didn’t want to…  That I wasn’t ready to…  But as I sit here and recall the moment, that wasn’t the entire truth.
     The fact of the matter is that I’m finding myself at the same place I was last year when I was attempting to date shortly after I had broken up with Rick.  That is to say that every time I talk with a man, all I’m seeing of the man are their issues, and very little about what they have to offer.  Hell…  I’ve been harboring this defensive dysfunction (for lack of a better term) every time I’ve talked with Jeff up in Du Bois (and I mentioned it a couple of entries ago). 
     But it’s also different this time. 
     In spite of the fact that I’m seeing men for their issues, and not for what they have to offer, I sit here secretly hoping that somehow, someplace, somewhere…  Will’s going to find me and tell me, he wants me back. 
     I don’t think I ever mentioned this in my journal — but part of one of our conversations the last week in May had to do with the fact that we had talked about the separation (because of distance, because of my implosion, because of the hurt I inflicted on him and on myself) was that if we couldn’t handle not being together — we could always come back to the other and try to make it work again.  While I didn’t give the impression that this would be possible — especially given the way the Newlander Curse works — I keep it alive and hoping on it within my heart of hearts.  It’s that secret hope that I have that keeps me trudging through my life (such as it is) until Christmas when in my heart of hearts I believe is going to be the culminating time when Will and I would come back together. 
     Will said to me in May that he wanted his Mikey back…  Well, here I am in November, coming up on the Holiday Season, and I want Will back, and I want to do anything in my power to make it up to him. 
     Not quite the note that I wanted to be singing at the moment.  But damn it, I’m tired of my having to give dissertations to people (and they still don’t entirely understand) where I could use just a word or a phrase, and have Will understand with clarity what it was I meant. 
     *takes a deep breath* I cried this morning when I heard Ryan Cabrera’s song "True" because I didn’t expect it to impact me the way that I did…  And now, as I sit here listening to Plummet’s "Damaged" as I get ready for bed I feel empty and hollow inside because I feel as though I destroyed the thing that I needed most. 
Dreaming comes so easily
Because it’s all that I’ve known
True love is a faerie tale
I’m damaged so how would  I know
I’m scared and I’m alone
I’m ashamed and I need for you to know
I didn’t say all the things I want to say
And you can’t take back what’s been taken away
Cause I feel you
I feel you near me
Feeling comes so painfully
And it chills to the bone
Will anyone get close to me
I’m damaged and I’m sure you know
I’m scared and I’m alone
I’m ashamed and I need for you to know

I didn’t say all the things I want to say
And you can’t take back what’s been taken away
Cause I feel you
I feel you near me

Can’t go back

I must go on

     *sigh* I also shouldn’t have had the glass of wine during the movie this evening.  I knew that this would be the effect.  I knew it would hit me and it would twist a whole lot of things up inside.  So I’m off to sleep it off and tomorrow, when I’m a little bit more sober — I’m going to approach the journal entry tomorrow in a different light…  The light that I wanted to have after I took the time out. 
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