well, clearly the emo chick just won’t die. i’m sorry about that, and i promise i’ll try to make her shut up for a bit in the next post. there’s not much i can really do about it at this point; i paid $26 for a domain name to be hosted here for a year, so i can’t go back to the other blog. we’re all stuck here for another 12 months. if that’s a problem, there are many other far more light-hearted people you can read and hang out with on the internet.
yesterday was a very very very (x 10,000 more verys) bad day, you guys. i slept in my yoga pants. i woke up in my yoga pants and did not change into regular clothes. i did not shower. i had zero make up on (sometimes i’ll say: look, here i am! noooo make up! and think about posting a picture of me to boldly show the world what i look like sans help from l’oreal and maybelline. but really it’s just faded make up; i am most frightening when i seriously, literally have no make up on). my hair was lank and greasy. literally, i laid on my sofa all day, in yoga pants, while miss m watched completely inappropriate pg-14 netflix cartoons and youtube videos, and i really don’t care what you think or have to say about that. she was contained and safe, and so what if she knows what an “asshole” is; they’re out there, she should know about them and what to call them.
she did read some. and did some homework in her brain quest workbook. and she drew a lot. and begged me to take her to sky zone, which is a place where the floors are made of trampolines and you can jump everywhere…and i was all set to take her, and actually do some jumping myself because it looks like ridiculous fun. but then i’d remember my life and the crappier things in it, and i just couldn’t; i literally could not pull myself from the couch. so then she’d be mad at me, and go make up complex and totally dysfunctional stories that involved the majority of her numerous dolls, which are all in various states of undress from fully-clothed but messy hair to semi-naked to full frontal, stripper-level. Each dysfunctional story centered around a horrible mother who was abusive and unfeeling and was only doing things to hurt her child on purpose.
children = little, angry narcissists.
while she did that, i laid emotionally crippled, watching a 4 hour HBO documentary about frank sinatra. with whom i completely identify now that i know his whole life story. actually, i’ve decided i vary identifying with sinatra and anais nin, depending on who in my life is being consistent with me that day or week, the season, what the weather is like outside, my hormone levels, how confident and cute i’m feeling, and what time of month it is. (clue: this is a baaaaaad time of month right now.)
i tried to find 3 beautiful things, like liz gilbert’s spirit guide/s once told her to do when she was at the bottom of a similar deep well, and she walked outside and saw three stunning circus elephants walking down 1st avenue. this is hard to do in a small apartment you have no intentions of leaving that day because it’s pouring buckets. so i looked around my house. i thought about the christmas tree, but honestly you all, it just needs to come down. the christmas tree is depressing the shit out of me. that tree should be up in a house, with the entire family of 3 people represented on its branches. putting it up should be joyful, and taking it down sad. this year, it will be the opposite.
and i thought about miss m, because honestly she’s the most beautiful thing in my life right now. but then she’d bring me a naked barbie with half its hair chopped off, face tattooed with purple marker, and let me know THIS is what mommies who don’t take their children to sky zone end up looking like. and, quite frankly? yesterday? i could only agree.
ava gardner was very pretty in the frank sinatra documentary; i thought about maybe using her as one of my beautiful things. but then the documentary let me know she was actually kind of bitchy to frank, and it occurred to me that beautiful things can be quite deceptive. and why are deceptive things going to make me feel better again, liz gilbert?
after that, i was done looking. there was nothing of great beauty about yesterday, other than the fact i didn’t have to work.
that was about it. mourned my life, in yoga pants, trying to find something beautiful and giving up eventually to go get mexican food (aka: cheese) and then go to bed…in my same yoga pants. plus, it rained all day yesterday (Georgia! STOP RAINING!!!!!), so there wasn’t anything outside to be amazed by, though i briefly considered using the rain as my beautiful thing because, while depressing, does have sort of a tragic pretty to it as long as you don’t actually have to go out into it. and c always likes to remind m and me that it’s not actually just rain – it’s free water, and free is always beautiful. but then i remembered i just read on a science blog the other day that most of our planet’s free water was actually once dinosaur urine. and urine isn’t something i’d put on a list of beautiful. (i am typing this in my yoga pants from yesterday, by the way. i will change into actual clothes, though, today. but only because i have a dentist appointment.)
mostly, i am homesick, internet. i cannot begin to tell you how very, deeply homesick i am, and not just for the actual house. i miss c a lot. i miss hearing c’s voice. there are things about c i do not miss at all, just as i know there are things about me i’m 100% certain he’s relieved not to have to deal with daily any more. there are things i think about and go: if i go back to that, i’m going to land myself right back where i was, which means i’ll be right back here at square one. because i’ve been spending a lot of time dissecting exactly why i left. i was so angry, so resentful. and there are still patterns going on, i can see them pop up now and then and my resentment and anger flare, tempered only by the knowledge that c’s in a dark place, too. and that he wasn’t and isn’t a bad guy…i’ve run into bad guys, and c is just not a bad guy. c has good character and is loyal and honest and friendly and smart and forgiving and he takes care of people. mostly, with c, i think what happened is that i simply didn’t feel loved anymore. and not feeling loved made the other things harder to work through. i knew i was loved, but i didn’t feel it and feeling loved vs knowing you’re loved makes a huge difference. i think, to make a love relationship work, you need both – you need to say it and to show it and it needs to be a reciprocal thing. i stopped, he stopped, we both stopped…and then blam. all the other issues became huge. and now here i am, staring at a christmas tree that makes me cry.
the last three years of my marriage i was never kissed, never touched, never hugged, never told i was loved. all of that stopped at some point, and when it did there was no reason to fight anymore. and that’s when the anger and the resentment took over. (or did the anger and resentment take over…and then the physical and emotional affection stop? i dunno…maybe this is actually a chicken/egg issue.)
a truth i’m discovering about myself is that i would like to be with someone who will love me but leave me wild.
and when i say “loved,” i do not mean just physically; i have learned i actually need to feel loved. not possessed, not controlled, just loved and free to be me. i’m usually pretty good about accepting people as is; it’s when i don’t feel it back we run into rough waters. but more than anything, if i don’t feel loved, whatever kind of relationship we have feels empty. i sense there will be much fewer reasons for me to lie paralyzed on sofas all afternoon if that were to happen. i am so tired of feeling empty. i am so tired of chasing love. i am so tired of wondering what is wrong with me. i only want to lie around on sofas in yoga pants because it’s my day off, miss m is at her dad’s, and i just feel like having a lazy day…not because i have no energy to deal with life in that moment.
….maybe i just need to grow a better backbone. (another truth i’m discovering about myself: my backbone, believe it or not, is 10 million times stronger than it once was…but it is still very, very weak. so i’m sure you can imagine how amazingly fun it was to be me at, say, age 20-29.) it could all just boil down to backbone. how much love weaves its way into my life will be in direct proportion to how much backbone i grow so i can say “no thank you,” to offers that look like love but are really just tiny little boxes of darkness that will leave me feeling like utter shit and writing blogs, wondering out loud to a nameless, faceless web of technology when i’ll finally grow a backbone and be consistent with myself.
a friend of mine recently said i need to get a cat. but i really hesitate to do it, because i think about days like yesterday. days i’m lying on my sofa in an emotionally catatonic state. i don’t know that i should subject another living thing to that. plus: cat litter. ew. and i actually would like a dog, i think, because they just seem more positive – dogs are always happy to see you. choose wrong, and i’ll get a cat that’ll make my depressive emo shit look positively pollyanna. however, cats are easier to take care of and you don’t have to walk them. there’s a friendly little red-haired dog in our building named ginger, and miss m is desperate to have a dog just like ginger. and m would love to have ginger over for a play date, but we’d have to walk her and pick up her poop; dogs can’t just run free you know. but there’s also a friendly yellow-orange striped cat in our building named tybee, and miss m and i love her and wouldn’t mind her coming to spend the night once in awhile. we see her prowling the grounds around our building most afternoons; tybee is both an indoor and an outdoor cat…a little domestic, a little wild. running up for head pats, unafraid to show and feel love, on her own terms.
once, we thought tybee was lost forever because the nice lady she lives with was posting LOST CAT posters on the building and hadn’t seen her for going on two days. but she was fine; a neighbor in another unit thought she was lost and took her in for a couple of days. i don’t know what prompted the neighbor to let tybee back outside to wander again.
maybe something just told the neighbor this was a cat who likes to be loved, but also needs to be wild.