I take off in an hour and 45 minutes. Already I feel myself relaxing a bit. I'm able to hear myself think. I needed this.
Anyone who knew me in my 20s would say that I would not wind up a wife or a mother. They would, however, not be surprised that I wound up with two rambunctious dogs.
Family life is one of the biggest challenges I've ever experienced. I am so often out of my comfort zone here. I'm working to integrate it, but God DAMN it's not easy.
I emailed my Kaiser shrink and she hooked me up. Ativan scares me a little bit. So addictive. But something's got to put a dent in how I'm feeling these days. Maybe it'll also help with the flight. I'm such a lousy flier. You'd think I hadn't done it a bunch in my life. But my self-care sucks right now and it's reflected in everything, including the fear of flying. Even just writing this is helping. That's the whole point, right?
Today has been rough in terms of anxiety. I just came to a realization: I don't think I deserve peace. I mean, of course I do. Except I don't. I don't think I can achieve it, don't believe it's mine to have.
Thanks, Mom.
In December, my father sent me an email. "You're not going to believe this. Maybe you will. Call me."
He bought a place in Manhattan. On Friday, I'm flying out to see it.
How many people change?
How many lives are living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?
We were up on the North Coast. It was challenging and very polar. There were moments of severe frustration balanced with times of true peace. I got a lot of thinking done about myself and my work. I was also super annoyed with my kid and my dogs. I love them dearly. The two are not in opposition.
Takeaway: Epic needn't be seamless.
I was just thinking about what pisses me off the most, why I feel this damn rage against certain people. It's because they ask so much, they take up so much time and energy. Those are the same people who never give anything back. Emotional vampires, they're called. I have other names for them.
I'm 11,000 words in and I'm not really having fun. It may show, I'm not sure. I'll let you be the judge. From a snippet of what I wrote yesterday:
Of course I
remember what the fight was about: macaroni and cheese. She bought the generic
stuff. I very gently tried to tell her that I liked the slightly more expensive
type – not the Annie’s, mind you, just the kind that wasn’t so damn gross.
She got pissed off as hell at me. It wasn’t just a request. That’s what she
said. It was a judgment. It was a statement of who she was and how she wasn’t as
refined as me.
Jesus Christ.
Why do women – all people, really – have to be so goddamned human?
I was watching
videos on YouTube when she walked in with the fucking pasta. “Dani California,”
I remember this specifically. Red Hot Chili Peppers. That one where they make
fun of all generations of music, including themselves. That passion. That love.
That amazing connection to what they do. Art. Why couldn’t I have a passion
like that? I, like every other lawyer I knew, hated my job. So many hours and
for what? Problem is that it came easily and paid well. I kept telling myself I
was going to get out of the game, go back to school, reinvent myself. In the
end we never can.
She went in the
other room for a while. I could hear her stomping around. Maybe she chucked
something, I don’t know. Kelly’s good at that. She’s a thrower, a wall-kicker. When
we move out of this place, we’re going to have to scrub the baseboards down
from all the times she decided to use her foot to make a point.
Then she emerged.
At that point I’d decided I was hungry enough to eat her nasty mac and cheese.
It was just as bad as I’d imagined it would be: gloppy, pasty. Not only did
Kelly buy the crappy shit, but she took shortcuts when it came to making it. I
mean, come on. Take those two minutes to really blend it together, you know?
Nothing like getting a mouthful of processed cheese, lumpy and gross, while you’re
trying to choke down your lunch.
