I wish I could shake this feeling. Oh well, time to embrace it I guess.
I wish I could shake this feeling. Oh well, time to embrace it I guess.
Go cry about it, why don’t you?
-Slow Dancing In A Burning Room, John Mayer
I very nearly cried this morning.
I’ve been stressed out, worried, frustrated and I think that’s what’s been affecting my emotion tolerance threshold. Because, God knows, I am not usually this way. It’s like when I’m sick and my tolerance for bullshit drops so low that I won’t take anything from anybody. I sorta like that version of me; this one, not so much.
Either way, I felt my eyes pricking upon hearing something I probably wasn’t supposed to know. That, in and of itself, hurt enough, but not enough for me to cry about. No, the almost tears came from the realization that I really could lose someone else that I care about and he has no idea how I truly feel about him. And it could be happening as soon as tomorrow.
I still carry residual guilt about not seeing my father before he succumbed to a heart attack that left him brain dead. Still remember the frustration I felt when my sister called me at work to say he was in the hospital and my only response was an irritated again? after learning he was ok. I could never have guessed that less than 12 hours later, I’d never hear his voice ever again and that 4 days later we’d be burying him.
At least my dad knew I loved him. I never left his presence without saying so.
I always think there’ll be more time. Time for me to be forewarned so that I have the right words to convey what it is I want to say when the actual time comes. Instead I sit, thinking about all the things I should have said, but didn’t. And how I never get the chance again.
Guilt is a bottomless dish. Every time your plate gets cleared, more gets served to you- free of charge, of course.
Don’t wish, don’t start;
wishing only wounds the heart.
-I’m Not That Girl, Idina Menzel (Wicked Soundtrack)
I don’t handle bad news well.
Sometimes- ok, most times- I don’t handle it at all. I shut down, go numb. It’s my defense mechanism. I did that when my mother called me at work to say that we’d be taking my dad off of life support, I did that when I found out a close friend died this summer, and I did it again yesterday after hearing some things that I still haven’t fully processed.
But before shutting down, I may have temporarily gone postal and flipped out on someone who just took it in stride. I know that I didn’t plan on saying what I did, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t mean what I said. I meant every word.
It was a bit unnerving to hear it all, for a second time. At one point, I swung my head around to visually confirm something with the person I flipped out on, and found him watching me. As if he was waiting for me to react again. He is probably the only one who got a true read on what I was feeling. And that was accidental.
As it was, the giver of the bad news shifted his glance to me a few times and held it there, like he was trying to read me. My expression never changed the entire time he spoke; of that, I am certain. I won’t even pretend to think that he was worried about my reaction.
The whole situation reminded me of a time where he was the one who watched over me after my mother made that awful phone call to me six years ago. He knew before I did that we’d be terminating my dad’s life support. I only found out about this when she told me later that day, on the way to the hospital.
You see, it turns out my mother made two phone calls that day. I was the second one. She called and spoke with him first because she wasn’t sure what I’d do when she called me and told me what we’d be doing. She wanted to be called if I fell apart and became an emotional, inconsolable mess.
I never did thank him for what he did for us, but I think about that moment every so often, wanting to acknowledge it. It’s never the right time. That ship has probably sailed around the globe several times over by now.
I want to thank the person who was looking out for me yesterday. (You know who you are.) You didn’t have to tell me what you did, so appreciate that you did so.
I wish I was like you, easily amused.
Find my nest of salt, everything is my fault.
-All Apologies, Nirvana
I heard Nirvana on the radio today while driving to my parents’ house.
Let me be clear about one thing here- I don’t like Nirvana. Never have, never will. And I tried, believe me, I tried. My ex worshipped them, so I tolerated Kurt Cobain’s scratchy vocals and overproduced guitar riffs to the best of my ability while he put up with my love of John Mayer.
So imagine my surprise when I flipped radio stations, found myself in the middle of a Nirvana song that not only could I identify it, I could identify with it. Damn it. That should have been the first clear sign that I should keep my mouth shut today because the song was “All Apologies”. Instead, I ignored my warning, and proceeded to trample over everyone who I came into contact with’s feelings like I was a raging bull in a china shop. Without even realizing I was doing such.
This is why I don’t talk directly to Blue much anymore. Because as much as I want to help, I will hurt someone (him, myself, him and myself) in the process. It’s also why I shy away from people. I threw out a couple of inquires within the last 72 hours that I was nervous about responses. #2 was positive, probably made more so by the fact that I don’t know this girl personally and it wouldn’t have devastated me if she hadn’t responded, or responded unkindly- which, from what I’ve read, isn’t really like her.
#1, however, I haven’t heard a peep. I was attempting to ascertain if my feeling about someone was legitimate, and if so, what I could do to help. The fact that I haven’t heard anything should speak volumes. I’m trying not to let it bother me, but damn that’s hard, because I’m heavily invested in its subject.
I found myself reading a story backwards today. Maybe I should clarify that too. I started at the top of the ending chapter, and when I reached the bottom of it, I moved forward and began reading the preceding chapter. And so on. It was like seeing an accident and rewinding little nuggets of time to find out just how it came to be. Where did everything go wrong? Was it inevitable or was a wrong choice made? What was the beginning like?
I felt like I was pulling a Momento on myself, except I was fully aware of the time reversal and do not have short-term amnesia. I almost want to read my next book like that. Would I absorb the story any differently? Would I lose the impact of the ending? Or would I save myself the frustration of struggling with a story only to be angered at the vague ending, a la Atonement? I have lots of questions with no real answers.
My issues with communication are leaping off of this page and that frightens me a bit. Maybe someday soon, I can get them under control. Until then, I guess I’m going to have to be “All Apologies”.
It’s dinner, then it’s bed alone.
– The Hurt, John Mayer
It’s been several days since I’ve seen Blue.
I realized yesterday that despite this, I haven’t missed him. What shocked me wasn’t that I didn’t miss him, it was why I didn’t. See, it turns out that my fears for him were founded. And because of this, he has been a part of my thoughts nearly every day.
I can imagine all the things he’s going through, the things he’s feeling and thinking because I was there not so long ago. His siblings all have significant others to lean on and Blue has…friends. He’s not entirely alone, but still, it’s not the same. And this is part of the reason I hurt on his behalf.
I know what it’s like to go home filled with uncertainty, afraid to voice anything aloud in case it’s true (like you fear) and you don’t want to burden the others who have families to return to so you stay silent as persistent thoughts nag at you all night long. Break down when and where no one can see or hear you. Get up after minimal, if any, rest. Repeat.
I don’t want any of this for him. Unfortunately, I cannot stop whatever he’s actually going through, even though I would give anything to try.