Being in a hospital is weird. No...being a patient in a hospital is weird. My whole world is reduced to a very small white sterile thing. It's a series of small events that become huge. Milestones to look forward to every day. I joked yesterday that my whole day revolves around mealtimes. 8, 12, 5. The food is miserable, but it's still one of the more interesting things to happen. Other things I look forward to are my shower at night, the 'changing of the guard' when I get to meet my new nurse for the day/night. I've been here long enough to develop favorite nurses.
The big thing is people. Having people here is a weird thing, too. On one hand, I fucking deliriously love seeing a familiar face walking through my door. On the other hand, I feel and look like shit, so there's an element of being self conscious, like I have to be "on" for them. When I was on the morphine and Dilaudid, it was extremely difficult, but now that I'm clean and sober, so to speak, it's easier. When I'm at my best, long exposure to most people exhaust me. Irv is an easy presence, he's the exception. He can chill and read the paper or watch TV all day, not needing small talk, or to fuss. Luiz is uneasy here, and yesterday with him sitting around all day, plus Alden, I felt a little claustrophobic. Jake came to visit, and I was so happy to see him, but that was one of those bad nights, blurry with pain meds and pain, I don't remember a whole lot. When my mother is here, she fusses, she hassles the nurses, but she's a professional visitor, so if I need something, she gets it...in spades.
I like walking around the hallway, but since I wear street clothes, the nurses think I'm gonna bolt. I joke with them, but I'm seriously not. I know why I'm here.
That's another thing. I'm *here*. It sunk in last night. Tuesday was a morphine blur. Yesterday was a giant hang over, but sort of a day to let it all soak in. I didn't have much stuff here, clothes or recreational stuff. Last night, though...Irv left around 10, and it was teary. Just thinking about it, I'm all teary. He goes home, sleeps in our bed. I stay here and don't sleep. But it doesn't look like I'm going home soon...and by soon I mean tomorrow. There's a weird level of acceptance, where I'm like, yeah, I need clothes...yeah I need my toiletries...fuck, I need my netbook.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 18, 2013
Timebomb Meltdown
After that post, we met our friend Jon at the bar. I was a little high, and starting to get drunk. I was happy to see him, but it's not really my crowd, so I sat fussing with my iThing while Irv joked and talked. Oh, and I was drinking, hard and fast. Irv made me eat something to slow down. I was chatting with Todd, and convinced him to join me, so he came all the way from South River. Good guy. As an aside, he's the platonic dude friend I need. He can show up and hang out at the drop of a dime, is unjudgemental, cool, intelligent, artistic and can drink me under the table. Easy on the eyes, too. Anyway, he turns up and my night is improved a hundred percent. But, when there's Todd, there's shots. To make a long story short, and this is why I value the guy so much, I had a major meltdown, and he didn't so much as bat an eye.
We had a jolly time, me and Todd, drinking, sharing secrets, talking shit about the strangers at the bar, scoping out the women. Irv was having a blast with Jon and that whole crowd. I thought for a bit that things were getting better. We left on a high. Then I kept drinking. Till I puked in the yard. Then I kept going. Till Irv somehow broke our entire handle of Jim Beam on the table. Apparently, it got all over me, and I locked myself in the laundry room having a temper tantrum, screaming and crying. This I don't remember at all. I threatened to walk across the house naked. Luiz, apparently had to hold me, naked, wrapped in a shawl, so I wouldn't go staggering out into public. They got me into one of my many sundresses, and that's all I remember....and apparently, I kept going with Fireball. I have no recollection of most of that, besides fuzzy shutterclicks. Total fucking meltdown. I woke up feeling like hot death in a mug. I just opened my eyes. and wanted to burst into tears. Irv laid in bed with me, all morning, rubbing my back and patting me. Luiz joined in, and for an hour I was in heaven, but felt too fucking grey and drawn out to appreciate it. My guys holding me, talking me through...whatever. Irv said I looked like I just wanted to find a corner and curl up to cry. He nailed it. I still feel like that.
I shouldn't have drank. I should have stuck to the greens. I still need therapy, I think. I feel better than yesterday, but only because my whole day was spent moving slowly, avoiding people, sleeping. I've been verging on tears the whole day. I feel the moisture sitting heavy in my lower lids, as I type this. If I blink hard, they'll spill.
My week starts tomorrow, but at least I'm easing into it, spending time with Michele. One of the few people I can stand for more than ten minutes at a clip right now.
We had a jolly time, me and Todd, drinking, sharing secrets, talking shit about the strangers at the bar, scoping out the women. Irv was having a blast with Jon and that whole crowd. I thought for a bit that things were getting better. We left on a high. Then I kept drinking. Till I puked in the yard. Then I kept going. Till Irv somehow broke our entire handle of Jim Beam on the table. Apparently, it got all over me, and I locked myself in the laundry room having a temper tantrum, screaming and crying. This I don't remember at all. I threatened to walk across the house naked. Luiz, apparently had to hold me, naked, wrapped in a shawl, so I wouldn't go staggering out into public. They got me into one of my many sundresses, and that's all I remember....and apparently, I kept going with Fireball. I have no recollection of most of that, besides fuzzy shutterclicks. Total fucking meltdown. I woke up feeling like hot death in a mug. I just opened my eyes. and wanted to burst into tears. Irv laid in bed with me, all morning, rubbing my back and patting me. Luiz joined in, and for an hour I was in heaven, but felt too fucking grey and drawn out to appreciate it. My guys holding me, talking me through...whatever. Irv said I looked like I just wanted to find a corner and curl up to cry. He nailed it. I still feel like that.
I shouldn't have drank. I should have stuck to the greens. I still need therapy, I think. I feel better than yesterday, but only because my whole day was spent moving slowly, avoiding people, sleeping. I've been verging on tears the whole day. I feel the moisture sitting heavy in my lower lids, as I type this. If I blink hard, they'll spill.
My week starts tomorrow, but at least I'm easing into it, spending time with Michele. One of the few people I can stand for more than ten minutes at a clip right now.
Nov 16, 2013
Needs
I'm still not ready for people. I'm in a funk. I called out of work yesterday, and today. I'm really not ready to open up, empathize, and help people tackle their issues. Fragile. That's a good word for it. I'm feeling fragile. I couldn't really pin it down, till today. Irv helped me frame it in language. I'm still sort of bummed about my father, and his open hostility towards me. We pulled some cards together, and now I can sort of see his reasons, but that doesn't magically fix how I feel.
I'm such an introvert, just spending a week straight with other people is enough to ruin me for the whole next week, especially this trip, where Alden was in our room. I didn't have one moment of time alone, except bathroom time, and even that was always hurried. Rushing to do the next thing, feeling obligated to not sit in our room alone, but go to Chris or Dad's room and socialize with the family. I can only do so much of that in the best of times. Add dealing with my father who was hostile, grouchy, demanding, demeaning, anxious, mean, sexist, and generally miserable and on a mission to make the rest of us miserable...and I can't even. We got home the day before yesterday, and I still don't feel fully myself, or "home".
I'm roaming around here, trying to stay drunk or high all day, and on the verge of tears, when I'm not. I've got no motivation to do anything that I love. No urge to seek out my friends and loved ones to talk to them. I'm fucking lost right now. Maybe a few more days in isolation will help. Maybe the cards we read today will get a self-dialog going, so that I can work through this. Just touching the sore subject of my parentage/my father's issues with females (which means issues with me), and my mother, is enough to make me burst into frustrated tears. I always said I was thoroughly happy not knowing where I came from, but every year, the mystery gets more and more...mysterious. More and more little slips and revelations. Details come to light, but they only provoke more questions. I'm not even being deliberately vague right now, but I don't even think I have the stamina to tackle the issue head on. I will. I'm trying to get myself there.
It's five pm. I called out of work. I have plans to go to a birthday party of a dear friend...a half hour ago. I'm still unshowered, and thoroughly dreading the evening.
I need therapy. I need silence. I need answers. I need to understand. I need to recharge. I need a good cry. I need to find the tears first. I need to find the words. I need to get back on the horse and tackle life head on. Fuck.
I'm such an introvert, just spending a week straight with other people is enough to ruin me for the whole next week, especially this trip, where Alden was in our room. I didn't have one moment of time alone, except bathroom time, and even that was always hurried. Rushing to do the next thing, feeling obligated to not sit in our room alone, but go to Chris or Dad's room and socialize with the family. I can only do so much of that in the best of times. Add dealing with my father who was hostile, grouchy, demanding, demeaning, anxious, mean, sexist, and generally miserable and on a mission to make the rest of us miserable...and I can't even. We got home the day before yesterday, and I still don't feel fully myself, or "home".
I'm roaming around here, trying to stay drunk or high all day, and on the verge of tears, when I'm not. I've got no motivation to do anything that I love. No urge to seek out my friends and loved ones to talk to them. I'm fucking lost right now. Maybe a few more days in isolation will help. Maybe the cards we read today will get a self-dialog going, so that I can work through this. Just touching the sore subject of my parentage/my father's issues with females (which means issues with me), and my mother, is enough to make me burst into frustrated tears. I always said I was thoroughly happy not knowing where I came from, but every year, the mystery gets more and more...mysterious. More and more little slips and revelations. Details come to light, but they only provoke more questions. I'm not even being deliberately vague right now, but I don't even think I have the stamina to tackle the issue head on. I will. I'm trying to get myself there.
It's five pm. I called out of work. I have plans to go to a birthday party of a dear friend...a half hour ago. I'm still unshowered, and thoroughly dreading the evening.
I need therapy. I need silence. I need answers. I need to understand. I need to recharge. I need a good cry. I need to find the tears first. I need to find the words. I need to get back on the horse and tackle life head on. Fuck.
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