"The Simple Story...unfurling slowly...is if you lay down with a dream...you'll wake up lonely"~Jane Berkin fet. Feist (remix album)
Oh Gosh, where do I begin? See, this is what happens when I stop doing a "weekly" blog. I have to catch you up on so many things that writing becomes a hurdle to be jumped (like everything else in life) as apposed to just a quick little trip into my psyche.
Well, a few months ago I met a guy. Online. Puke. Barf. and Double Puke. God, how I hate online dating. We lasted exactly six weeks, which I must say is a bit of an improvement from my track record over the last ten years. I used to have two week "honeymoon period" relationships that ended when the honeymoon was over. I had two relationships with the same person, five years apart that each lasted for five months, so I guess you could say that my longest relationship in the last ten years was ten months long. But that's cheating. So, back to the guy. He was Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. I felt like I was FINALLY getting what I deserved after giving so many trolls a chance. Okay, he was gorgeous, quirky, funny, down to earth and whatnot. Now this is what I thought in the begining. After getting to know him I learned that he was a "Dry Drunk" (from what I understand, that's an alcoholic who stays sober but still doesn't grow spiritually or whatever--basically they still act like an alcoholic even though they no longer drink). He also had Mommy issues and was a narcissistic hermit. Winning combo. Man he was fun (groan).
Now, because I'm me and I like to beat horse until it's beyond dead (basically, I dig horses up from their graves and beat them senseless in the middle of the night when no one else is looking, but believe me...the horse knows...oh...it knows) I didn't dump this guy. I let him dump me. Apparently, I looove to be dumped. I can't break up with anyone to save my life. I used to break up with people. That was years ago. I don't know what happened to me, but my will to end a relationship is nonexistent. It doesn't matter if you are the worlds biggest loser and I hate you. I will not go down without making a visit to the horse grave yard. I can't be helped. Dump me. Dump me now. I implore you!
So, there I was, post dump (even though it really just fizzled out, but I liked to think of it as me getting dumped cause I am sick and twisted and like to wallow in self pity) and I was feeling rejected, dejected, ugly and unlovable. You know, the usual. On top of this, I'm STILL dealing with/grieving the loss of my BFF, adjusting to living back in Lala Land in an apartment that I hate and barely scraping by financially, I reached a new low. Now, don't get your panties in a twist people, this ship has sailed and I am talking about the past, but I was starting to feel like life wasn't worth living any more. This was not the first time I had felt this way, so to say that this was a "new" low is kind of a lie, but it was new again, so let's just go with it. My therapist made me call her every day to check in with her and after about four or five days, it passed. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for most and I know that the only people who read this blog are people who know and love me, but if I keep NOT addressing these uncomfortable topics (trust me, there is so much that I've been want to write, but haven't been able to), I'm never going to write a blog again. I gotta tell it like it is or it's not worth telling. Having your BFF die on you changes you and makes you feel things you never thought you could and makes you think things you never thought you would. I often find myself saying to her (but in my head) "I don't blame you." Sometimes I envy that she's done with all of the hard work.
Well, low and behold, right about this time I meet someone new. Someone like me. Someone who is questioning whether or not it's worth giving another day a go. We connected in our depression and desire to self destruct and a new relationship was born. Let's call him Mr. X. Mr. X is a wonderful guy. I'm not being sarcastic either, he really is. He's brilliant. Probably a genius. He's easy going, super duper friendly, has a lot of charisma and for some reason I find him incredibly sexy. Not sure what's going on with that last bit. I don't usually describe men this way. In fact, I've never done so before. I dunno, it's weird. He was kind to me, a great listener, he understood and he reached out when nobody else was doing so. We were both in a bad place and since I've learned that we attract what we are putting out there, we were immediately inseparable. It lasted two months. A NEW RECORD! Why did it end? Well, Mr. X has an insatiable appetite for self destruction. I won't get into particulars because I don't wish to tell his business, but let's just say, I couldn't keep up with him. And I tried. Boy did I ever. It was like reliving the worst parts of my twenties all over again. The thing is though, the worst parts of my twenties also housed some of the best parts. Incredible experiences that are a right of passage at that age. If you choose to look at it that way. There are many ways to look at over indulgence, experimentation, and living on the edge. Take it how you like it. My mind can change on this subject from minute to minute and I guess maybe that's how I so easily revisited a certain way of life that I thought I had long been done with. Whatever. It happened. The thing is, being with him made me feel better and having someone to talk to and do things with, to hold was all I really wanted. And because I was feeling better, I no longer wanted to self destruct. Unfortunately, my charms didn't have the same affect on him. I don't know if it was a lack of attraction or anything having to do with me at all. He's expressed that he is not up to talking about "us" at this time, so I can't really speak for him. All I know is, even though he had me, he still had a need to numb and escape. And again, I don't blame him. I'd like to think I was sooooooo awesome that he'd just want to clean up his act so he could bask in the glow of me, but...that's wishful thinking.
Okay, so I couldn't keep up and he knew I couldn't and he's not ready to get off that train, but I knew if I didn't get off, I'd be reunited with my BFF sooner than I would like. I started to make more and more comments in reference to maybe going in a different direction and I guess he reached a point where he didn't want to hear it anymore. So, basically even though I knew it was over before it even began...I let him dump me...just to keep my perfect record. I mean, why spoil a good thing? Being with him was indeed like "Lay[ing] down with a dream" and yes, when I woke up, I was often lonely. As time went on, it was lonelier than being by myself. When the novelty of being with me wore off for Mr. X his behavior towards me became inconsistent. The honeymoon had long been over...actually, I'm not sure it had ever begun.
It's hard to watch another person who I care about go down the same path that led the the demise of someone who I cared so deeply for. I think a part of me wanted to see if I could make up for not being able to save my BFF. You know, maybe if I could do things differently, care more, say more, do more, love more, not just stand by and watch, maybe the world wouldn't have to lose another amazing human being before it was ready. There's no doubt that that was part of the attraction with Mr. X. Oooh goody! My chance to get it right this time! And they are a lot alike Mr. X and my BFF. Two of the most easily likeable and bright shiny people that you could ever meet (with a blackness that few, except for myself, get to see on the flip side). There's a nutty part of my brain (the part that sometimes wants to believe in ghosts and other weird inplausible stuff) that indulges in those fantasies of "Oh maybe BFF sent Mr. X to me so I can do with him what I couldn't do with her." You know, you can't blame me. Those are the types of thoughts us big hearted half crazy humans have. Sue me.
I know that I have to let go and I have. I didn't even get closure this time and for the first time in my life, I'm okay with it. I'm growing!! I can't and won't stop caring, but I know that there's nothing that I can do other than let this person know that I'm there for them should they need me and there's not much else I can do beyond that. But, oh how the mind loves to continue to go back to that place where it says "You can do it!" No, I can't. Like I said (previous blog), all the kings horses and all the kings men...they couldn't do it and neither can I. Now, there is absolutely no guarantee that Mr. X will meet the afore mentioned fate and god willing, he won't. A lot of people that I've known in my life, including myself have been to dark places only to rise from the ashes. It happens every day. I am rooting for him and I have a lot of faith.
The long and the short of it is, I gotta worry about me. I gotta take care of me. And that brings me to what I really came here to write about. I am fuckin' WORRIED about me. And YOU too! Don't even get me started thinking about kids and what they are all going to have to deal with when they get older (global warming, our food and water supply, those are just for starters). I'm worried about everybody! For realz dawg. Shit be scary out there. I know that the thoughts that I'm about to share border on compulsive and are part of my lingering depression (that is improving daily, thank you), but here they are and they have to be worked through. What the hell is going to become of me? And when I figure out what I want to do to earn my keep for the duration, what is going to be the point of it? (A few things that make life worth living that I will interject so you don't get too depressed: Babies, Music, Art, Laughter--I haven't given up, I swear!). Existential crisis anyone? Yes, I'll have one of those please. I was driving home from a crappy movie a few hours ago and I just started feeling really panicky. I'm worried about social security and my retirement and shit that I really don't have to worry about right now, but then again, I do. Right?! I mean, RIGHT!? I'm gonna be old before you know it. I keep getting older every day and I'm just so worried about the state of the world right now and how it's all going to affect me. I'm currently looking for a second job to supplement my income cause I literally don't make enough right now to even cover the most basic necessities of food and shelter. It's damn scary and all I can think is of the AUDACITY that I had to quit my job last August and up and move out of my awesome apartment. I had NO IDEA what was going on in the real world. I really and truly didn't. I lived in the bubble of Hollywood and the security and comfort of a job that I'd been doing for almost eight years. I had no idea that things were getting so scary out here in the real world. Since I got my shit together in my late twenties my parents have been more than willing help me out of a pinch now and again. But, they are both getting older and their income is going to become fixed soon. The world is getting scary for them too. So, what happens when I no longer have that safety net? That question needs to get answered and soon.
The life that I'm living right now is something that I heard about on the news and that I only thought happened to other people. I used to live in a fantasy world of hope and dreams that consisted of me thinking that some day I might actually go back to acting or singing and maybe I would get "discovered" or get my "big break" or whatever and I would live happily ever after. Next thing I know, I'm almost forty and that shit just sounds plain crazy now. I just want to make sure I don't end up homeless at this point.
Where are we headed people? How much worse is our economy going to get? How much more corrupt is the government going to get? How much wider is the gap between the haves and the havenots going to get? And we can't even have a revolution. Not with technology and weaponry where they are at now. We mere mortals, civilians, peasants, broke ass mofo's, we don't have a prayer in the world of turning things around. I don't want to be one of those people who fixates on how the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but dang...I'za sceered. I know that some of this will pass and I won't worry so much as I feel better and crawl out of the whole that I dug for myself while I was on a tear with Mr. X--it takes time to normalize again afterall--but in the meantime, I have to figure out a Plan X,Y, and/or Z (and I will repeat the mantra "Babies, Music, Art, Laughter" over and over). I can't just stick my head in the sand and pretend like it's all going to be okay without me taking an active part in the security of my future. I feel like I've been living in a dream for the last 37 years and I've just woken up to find out that I'm not in Kansas anymore.
For now, all I can do is take things one day at a time and be happy that I do indeed have the stamina, the will and the downright desire to wake up each day and try to make a go of it. At least I know that I'm no longer dreaming...and I'm okay with just waking up with myself.
