Hey there everyone.
It's just me. I'm back at my little antique-y desk. It was a painfully long drive in the car today and a hellish return home. Both my husband and I struggled with the impulse to smack our child to get him to just stop screaming and shut the fuck up. No one said or did any such hostile thing as smacking or cursing. We just got through it.
Now it's 12:45am. I have a bunch of bullshit emails to get through but nothing really fun. After so many days without the computer, the web feels like an empty void to express anything. I'm not really known to you guys. No one has ever heard my voice or hugged me hello.
But then again, I spent days with my flesh and blood family and it's probably the origin of my discontent. It's complicated and fraught and weird and dumb and familiar and loving and stressful all at the same time. I was the go-to granddaughter. My son and I went for a walk and spontaneously went swimming in our nekkids. There were some good parts. Ah fuck, the pie. I got fat on pie*.
*peach, cherry, coconut custard, apple.
In the stressful times, I ached to talk to my mother again. I felt all over again the grief and permanence of her absence. God I can't even think of it now without sobbing.
My husband tried to comfort me. I told him everything I was feeling and felt, as usual, the lacking of his response. So I took a risk. I told him exactly what to say to me, verbatim. Words I had heard from someone else that had comforted and calmed me. He said them. It didn't work. Seems I essentially needed that other person and it was never going to matter what my husband said.
It's one in the morning of an impossibly long day in the car mostly in the third circle of Hell that is the New Jersey Turnpike. I'm ranting. I feel nothing but alone. And the thought of your comments to the contrary make me feel cynical and weary. I know you're out there reading and paying attention, and that's worth something, it is. But you're there and I'm here. Your life is your life and mine is mine. I turn away from the computer and I'm alone again with my fucked up family and missing mother and screaming child and on and on and on.
It's my unruly life.
I am in it alone.
8 Comments:
I won't be so presumptuous and oblivious as to try to tell you not to feel the way you do--nobody should do that. You need to feel what you are feeling for some reason. Let me just echo two of your sentiments though...
Mmmm, pie.
And yes, the Jersey Turnpike may very well be one of the most sinister, evil places in the world.
You're not alone, first of all. That's part of the mixed blessing of the Internet. We're always here to help you, Wry.
And B, did you stop off at any of those nice rest areas along the NJ Tpk. for Sbarro? Molly Pitcher, Richard Nixon, whatever their names are? Nothing better, when your kids are intolerable, than a big mushroom, grn. pepper, and pepperoni-stuffed calzone.
Oh, and a Diet Coke with that, please.
XO
In times good and bad, just remember the pie :)
DPQ,
Well, think about the future. In fact, think about what life will be like one year from now on this very date. Imagine it being much better than today.
I do.
Miss Collins (Mr.)
07/07/06
There are many, many people that feel the same way you do - we all meet here in the anonymity of the internet and commiserate. We're all here for each other, it's just that a few of us are a little more vocal in there support than others.
Best way to travel the Jersey turnpike? At the highest speed possible. Then the trip doesn't last as long.
Perhaps you are not being prescribed the correct medication. Seriously.
The firt time I landed on the NJ turnpike was a mistake, we were so high and drunk we missed Philadelphia.
HI DPQ,
What? We're not real? We're as real as all the other voices in your head.
Now, get over here, you bad girl, and pull down your pants. It's time for your Spanky.
And if you don't stop talking such nonsense, I'm gonna fetch my camel from Madame X's and have him give you a Rogering of a lifetime.
Uh, just don't take that pill. It will make us go away!
Love,
Chuck
My ex husband (note he is my ex) was much the same way emotionally. Days before I had major surgery I asked him why he couldn't just put his arms around me, pat me on the back and tell me it was going to be alright and his answer was because he didn't know it WAS. I didn't mean that state of the world; I meant just at that moment, lie to me if necessary but at least feel that compassion. He was incapable. For a while I believe he wanted to be capable of it, but then he just stopped ever trying and I drew up papers.
I'm sorry you are going through this. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you it will be alright, because ultimately, it will be. You're strong, and will move forward from this situation and may not look back on it and laugh (I don't) but nod sagely about it, drop it and move on.
I'm with jundercovers.... mmmmm pie.
I want pie.
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