I have been feeling really down, whiny, woe is me, anxiety-ridden, bored, depressed, alone, lonely, jealous, self-depreciating, and, as usual, confused. I'm tired of feeling like shit but I can't think of anything to do about it. Maybe I just have to fucking put up with it. I can't get over the sensation that I have absolutely no real friends. Certainly I have a decent-sized social network of caring, intelligent, funny, adorable people. Certainly these people have good qualities that would make them excellent friends.
The complete confusion that is Ponge and I is a big part of all that, I'm sure. It all makes me want to go travel some place and work on a short-term project, like a month's worth. Get out there and worry about someone else's problems. Get so overwhelmed with stimuli to process that I don't sit here and self-involve to death. There's something to be said for dealing with your problems, but when "dealing with" them just goes in circles; there is something to be said about distracting yourself as well.
Well. Yesterday was M0rgan's funeral. I don't know what to say about it. Tom didn't go because he was sick, but the majority of us met over at the E11iot House (house where Tom, Jeremy, Corey, Tracy, and Don live) to watch stupid movies and drink red wine. Mostly to watch Showgirls, which is this really terrible movie that M0rgan loved.
Anyway, I got there before everyone else and Tom asked me how the funeral was. I paused a long time and said, "Good?....I don't really know how to answer that question." Her death was untimely, and tragic. She made a few poor decisions and gained an addiction and overdosed.
There were maybe 100 people at the funeral, many of them my age. At least 20 of the attendees were people my age who knew M0rgan on a friendship/ social level. I surprised myself by crying quite a bit. I've never cried at funerals, just felt numb (and stupid for not crying).
I had it pretty together until M0rgan's brother came over to us while we were in the sitting room and asked how we were doing and told us to take our time before services started to visit with her. Then I teared up a bit - I can't imagine being that composed if I were at my sibling's funeral. I would be fucking devastated. Then we all sat in the little room, and they didn't have enough chairs so lots of people were standing. Then M's brother got up and started reading a poem she had written when she was in fourth grade and I lost it again. I cried quite a bit...at various times.
And I'm sitting here and asking myself why I would be affected so deeply. I liked M0rgan a lot, but knew her from various social encounters arranged by other people. I had her number and was supposed to hook up with her when I was in New York this past summer. She lived in Williamsburg close to where the friend I was visiting lived. I knew very little about her...she had a really bright face/spirit that I found attractive & good-natured. I saw her at stitch n bitch and Isabelle's fashion shows and bars and parties and that was about it. Yet I was sitting at that funeral with tears streaming down my face and sucking up snot because blowing my nose seemed too loud.
And I didn't even know really who was close friends with her. I wasn't aware that she and Natasha were best friends. Natasha who accused me of having my shit together and asked how I did it? I was surprised as hell and asked her who the hell ever said I had my shit together? I just don't demonstrate it publicly unless I'm really upset or drunk or both. She said, yeah, that's called having your shit together. She said, you're such a hard ass and I'm getting drunk all the time and...
Hm, a hard ass? Is that how people see me...bad ass I don't mind, fits my fantasy self-image. But I'm really not as tough as maybe I come across as. My stoic facial expression is not a reflection of my feelings. My calm external self (except when drunk) is not really me? I feel conditioned to not act out. I don't act out. Except when I'm drunk I sometimes get manic. No wonder I like drinking, I don't have to feel comfortable around someone to put away that reserve I blindly maintain the rest of my life.
No wonder I feel so fucking alienated from everyone, I can't really open up to people. I think I used to be able to?
Isabelle asked me how P-diddy was (her nickname for Ponge) last night. All I could say was fine. He lost his soccer game on Monday. Ponge is not part of my life at all, yet this enormous part of my life at the same time. He doesn't know my friends and I don't know his. He doesn't like my activities and I don't like his. He's mature and responsible and I am not. Maybe I'm doing better than some almost-25 year olds, but not by much.
I feel like I'm hanging on to this normal life, this nine to five by a thread. If I wasn't dedicated to a year I'd be looking for another job. Living in Minneapolis, $4.85 an hour is fucking ridiculous. I guess the stipend at the end might make it worth it. I guess I'm getting to know the affordable housing community in the Cities and that's worth it. I work with some great people and I like that. But my job is SO boring most of the time. And if I'm going to work a boring job I want to have enough money so that I don't have to lead a boring outside life. As is I have to fucking strip just to make enough to have a little fucking fun.
Fuck, I tried really hard last night to rationalize. I said, look you're life is just fine. You have people who love you and a nice apartment and a great cat and the job could be so, so much worse and you're materially priviledged even if it doesn't feel like it because you covet so much and yadee yadee ya. But logic wasn't helping at ALL.
I feel like shit and I highly suspect that the reason I was/am so affected by M0rgan is that it gives me something solid, something with a name, to feel upset about. I suspect I'm just being a selfish bitch and riding a wave of grief to my own ends.
I feel really fucking alone and I hate it.
I gave up V for P. I might have done it anyway (given up V). But I don't think what I miss about her is the relationship/fuck/etc. part. I think I just really miss being an important part of her world, being a confidant and trusted friend. I miss her deeply, and she lives like 9 blocks from me. I miss being comfortable being physical with her...snuggling, hugging, planning projects together. What was it about that summer? It was like being a little kid again, a last vestage of innocence..
Everything feels unnatural.
What ulterior motives did I have for stealing that poor boy from his family and everything he knew?
Because I wanted children, is that an excuse to marry someone you just met; someone you basically got together with just to get laid and see a different part of Senegalese life than what you had yet been exposed to? To meet people and go slummin it? Because I wanted him to be able to follow his dream of coming to America and "making it?" Because I wanted to take part of Senegal home with me? He asked me, but I said yes. Eventually. The decision was heartbreaking, impossible. That alone should have told me something. Should have told me not to do it.
Yet will I regret this in the long run? Maybe it's just right now that everything feels horrid. Maybe I need to start thinking about right now a little more fucking often. It seems like my plans are always about the long term, the fucking long term for which I choose to suffer. There IS NO long term, fuck! I don't LIVE in the the long term I live in the goddamn NOW.
It's a circular argument though, because if I act without thinking of the future, the present of that future will be just as horrid. Balance, my friends, balance.
What the fuck ever. Maybe I should just do like I used to and wear all black and a bunch of goth makeup and listen to fuckin Joy Division a thousand times and go to a coffee shop and mope. I hate everything. I hate transition, it's painful. I hate stagnance, it's stifling.
Wasn't I dreaming about sorting through a bunch of boxes and throwing shit out but being completely overwhelmed with the task? That's what I need to do with my soul, my life. Maybe I should just break the fucking lease - fuckit. How tempting is it to just pack a bag of clothes and fucking leave? If I run too short on cash I can strip anywhere. I could make it on the road. I would start on the west coast, maybe take a train. Amtrak is only $160 for a one-way to Vancouver.
But no, can't do that. Hafta build my name, build my career. Blah de fucking etc. When this year is over I'm not committing to a fucking thing. No way am I ready for grad school with these sorts of feelings. I am going to find some place amazing to go and do shit I care about. I have organizing skills to develop, and I don't have to get a fucking degree to prove that I am capable...though I might enjoy that at some point.
This fucking sucks and the Mpls people I would ordinarily turn to with my shit are dealing with too much of their own for me to feel comfortable going that route. I would love to talk to my dad, but I really don't feel great telling him that P and I aren't happening. Probably aren't happening. Aren't happening. God this is so UNCLEAR. Anyway, I don't want to hear any shit from him, predictor of doom, the man who condemned my marriage to failure. So it failed. Is failing. Might not fail. Failed. I don't know.
But if it failed it's NOT because of what he thought would happen - that P would meet a nice Muslim girl here in America and naturally be more attracted to her and have more in common with her. No, it's not another girl. At least not on his end of things. With me it might be, I don't think I ever did really accept the hetero lifestyle I was adopting when I got married. I think that still freaks me out. Being with boys, okay. Being fucking married to one! Holy balls.
When I was waiting for P to get accepted and come over (I came back in June 2003, he came in October 2003) I wasn't thinking oh I miss him I miss him (I was thinking that, but not just that), I was thinking Oh fuck I think I just ruined my life, made the biggest mistake of my life, and I can't talk to anyone about it.
We're done, we have to be done. It can't be right to have those sorts of thoughts and feelings about your partner. And I don't give a shit if lots of married couples have regrets and doubts, lots of married couples probably should get a divorce. I am not lots of married couples. We have to be done, I can't take it, can't take the ambiguity, the responsibility, have to be done. LAME.
This hurts. (love hurts, love scars...)
I shouldn't be seeing a marriage counselor, just a fuckin counselor period.. because maybe at that funeral I wasn't mourning just for M0rgan, her family, her friends...I was mourning my marriage, my mistakes, my losses.
When I was 14 I listened to that song (Love Hurts by Nazareth) over and over one summer when some close friends moved away and I felt completely abandonned and alone. I guess I must feel that way again, since instead of seeming cheesy it seems meaningful.
At the end of the funeral they played "Would You Change?" by Tracy Chapman. Everyone cried anew.
all i want to do is cuddle with a friend and cry and talk.