So, I had a weird dream. I wasn't going to write about it but I decided to now.  It was another resort dream, only a bunch of us were all young, or sort of our age but younger feeling.  Like we were all working there in hospitality or entertainment "we" indicating here a blank faced mob of peers and friends.  We partied in an open air bar at night with people we thought of as "them" like there's "us" the help and "them" the patrons or guests.  One night, during the usual whirlwind of activity, you showed up.  If you're still reading this, you know who you are.  You probably quit months ago.  Anyway, there you were, under the bar lights. Wearing clothes that didn't look like you picked them out.  Wrong fitting baggy jeans, weird shirt, sideways baseball hat.  All the tags were attached, stickers on the jeans still.  But the clothes looked worn and grimy, sort of saggy and frayed, in need of a good washing.  You hadn't shaved in a while. Your skin looked waxy and pale, and you were covered with a sheen of sweat.  I felt concerned and ran up to you.  I took one of your hands in mine, immediately wrapping you in a hug.  In my dream, I murmured "I love you."  I needed to edit this and stress that this all happened in a moment.  In that moment, it felt exactly right, unhesitant.  I miss the feel of you, and it was bittersweet.  Then I woke up.

I'm going to close this page before I decide to delete this.

I keep thinking I've been writing a lot.  I check here and it's been two weeks.  Maybe I'm composing a lot.  There hasn't been much to speak of, lately.  Things have been quiet, a little weird, but mostly good.  The process is rolling with the house, and that always frees me up a little, mentally.  The house is clean and quiet, both literally and metaphorically.  All the weekends have been interesting, and a little busy, but not overwhelming.  I like January, so far.

I've been feeling younger, lately.  The cycle is rolling that way again.

I've been tackling writing lately like I doodle and draw.  I get this intent to fill up a page from corner to corner. Put it all out there, use every technique, get rid of all the white spaces.  That's how I used to go, and it became bigger than it needed to be.  Now I stop when the piece says stop.  Nothing's more interesting than rough edges and things left hanging.

2013 was interesting. It was a year of stagnancy, waiting, frustration.  It was also a year of high emotion, loving, fighting. I'm not going back over it.

I seldom make New Years resolutions. If I see a problem, no matter what part of the year it is, I aim to fix it.  But, some changes have been happening in December, and this is timely. So, in the spirit of the day, this is what's going on.

I vow, this year, to bring more art into my life.  Not just collecting, but creating also.  Lately, I've been hanging out with tons of artists.  Luiz is renewed, and on the verge of selling one of his big pieces.  That's a big thing, and his creativity in the house is refreshing.  For Christmas, Irv bought me a painting that I had my eye on. Luiz has a work in progress for me.  I actually got art supplies as gifts.  It's time.

Here's hoping I'll have new walls to display all this art before 2015.

...as a cloud.

When I'm not in the mood for people, I just go underground.  I get a lot of reading done.

I haven't been in the mood for people.  It's the holidays, though. It's the only thing we make a big deal over, so for that I have to rally, and deal with people extra.  I'm not there yet.

There are a lot of things I think about but don't write about.  I write a lot then delete it.  That's how antisocial I am, I can't even talk to myself.  Pressing these keys is such a deliberate act. They're so heavy.

I'll probably delete this.

Patients

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.

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.

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.