Painfully Lonely

So, my friend Mina suggested that I keep a journal to remind me of what’s going on these days. She said that I’ve been describing it very succinctly, and that I should have a record.

I’m really miserable, and I walk around imagining what life would be like if I left ND. Yes, he’s the love of my life. Yes, he’s the father of my daughter and she adores him. Yes, I would have to be single with a child and likely have trouble meeting someone else… But I look at him and cringe. I have a better time when he’s not there. I feel taken for granted. I feel ignored. I feel so painfully alone that I think I might be happier if I weren’t dangling on the end of his yoyo, waiting for him to be free someday maybe.

When I talk to friends about what’s going on, they all have the same response: “I was wondering about that! How could he possibly take on so much? Running an arts festival, a full time job, being a regional, and having a new baby…” And I think, that’s because his priorities are in that order… And they continue, “I was so surprised that he decided to take all that on while you were pregnant, and he hasn’t seemed to change a thing. I just thought he was amazing for being able to handle so much!! I guess something had to give, you’ve been such a good sport!”

So the festival was this weekend, a smashing success. 10,000+ people showed up, 60 or so core volunteers all raving about ND’s vision and masterful work. And I went all three days to be supportive. And I cried all three days, and ran rings on the paths, alone, with my stroller.

Friday I came out with my dad. He didn’t want to come, but I convinced him it was the right thing to do, for ND, because he thinks so much of my dad and his approval would mean so much. That night ND was feeling reflective. The first day was anti-climactic for him, and he was trying to determine if all the hard work was worth the effort. He asked me what I thought, and I told him that I was behind the event. I get it. I know why it’s a good idea. Good for the city. Good for everyone. But I have mixed feelings about it, and can’t be objective. So sensing my dancing around the real question, he asked me point blank if I thought it was worth it for me. And I hesitated, but said the right thing. That it was hard on me. Especially with a 4 month old baby, and that I wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Didn’t think it was, but ultimately, know what drives him, and know that if it weren’t Fig* it would be something else, and that I love him and want to be happy for him and that makes it all ok. He was relieved. And I quickly realized that I was lying.

Fig* is not worth it. It’s horrible. I cringe at hearing the name. It has taken over my life, and my husband’s life, and all our friends. They’re all into it and working for him and enthusiastic and LOVE him for his great vision and fantastic people skills… And I have become the sole caretaker and single mother of our brand new baby girl. And can’t turn to anyone because I don’t want people to know how bad things have gotten between us. We’re the favorite couple. The most in love. The role models. So I stay quiet. Keeping up the Trompe L’oeil so my pain won’t show. And to spare THEM the pain… My friends are all caught up in his world and THEY love Fig* and they’re are excited and turned on. So how dare I ruin all the fun for everyone by hating it. Because it is amazing. It’s changing the world. Really, it’s changing the entire fucking universe. And yet it’s the reason he can be in a room with me daily and not even notice that I’m talking. And it’s the reason I spend my days and nights alone. And wake at 3am alone to feed Hallie. And carry this lump around in my throat that I can’t swallow. No, Fig* is definitely not worth it for me.

You know, once I was a “doer” too. Once I was working just as hard, if not harder, than everyone else. And I worked crazy hours and people thought I was amazing. But that’s not me anymore, because I am Hallie’s mom now. People understand why I can’t be a doer anymore. And they assure me, when I complain that I want to work, that they don’t expect anything of me anymore… Someone’s got to watch Hallie. And it’s sure as hell not going to be ND. He’s off saving the universe. And renting trucks. And saving parties from rainstorms. No, that someone watching Hallie is me, quietly in the background, crying. And alone.

And of course ND would watch Hallie if I wanted to go out! Of course! No challenge he’s not up for solving! But usually I just stay home, cause I hope that maybe I’ll get an hour of his time.

Saturday I came out to the island and it was really hard. Most of my friends were working and busy, and I felt disconnected to the ones who weren’t. I was depressed. And angry. So fed up with having to put on a good face over and over, no longer able to hold it in… And always having to take care of Hallie out there… Feeding her, making sure she was comfortable, swaddling and singing her to sleep in the middle of NP behind a DJ area. And walking when she didn’t want to stay still anymore.

At 5pm I found ND and asked “So when are we leaving” and he replied “Well I’m leaving on the 7pm boat and going right to the party.” Oh, right. I guess I’ll go take care of Hallie – again. Not a thought to this being a “we” job. Not a thought to maybe I would want some company, if not help. But of course, realizing he’s on the brink of not being such a great guy, he offers “Oh, do you want me to come home with you?” So I left, playing “default mom”, in the rain. It took me 2 hours to get home, had to walk for an hour with Hallie in the stroller in the rain, trying to find a taxi. And when I finally got home, had to rush around getting ready for the stupid party. The stupid fucking party where everyone was going to celebrate the fantastic visionary, MY HUSBAND.

I actually decided at one point that I wasn’t going to go to the party. And why should I go to a party where he’s not going to even have 5 minutes for me, where I’m going to have to stand and make small-talk with friends, praying they won’t tell me again what an AMAZING job I did creating Fig*? Cause if I hear one more person tell me what a great job I did making Fig* happen I’m going to throw up. So I say “I didn’t do anything to make this happen.” and they say “Oh no, of course you did! You’re such a good sport!” But when I told ND that I wasn’t going to go, that I needed a girls night, that I didn’t think I’d get to see him much at the party, he kinda freaked out and put a lot of pressure on me to go… He said “But you have to go! I want you to go! I was planning to spend the night with you!” And when I resisted he pulled out all the stops “Well, you can do what you want, but if you don’t go, my feelings will be really hurt.” Great.

So I went. I didn’t want to go. But ultimately I decided that the Saturday night in the middle of the festival after all his hard work was not the time to finally start taking care of myself. I had to see this thing through, knowing it would be over soon. Go do my wifely duty and show up. But the thought of standing there while people congratulate him for his amazing job creating this festival which comes at such an incredible expense for ME felt horrible.

But I went. Went to be there for ND. Went to make him feel good. Went because I love him. And I cut up my Fig* t-shirt and scraped myself together to go with an open mind and an open heart. And a good mood, and a good attitude. I went in and gave him a big hug, and told him how proud I was of him. And he said “I’m so glad you’re here! Hang on a minute while I go talk to this guy. I just have to ask him a question…” So I swallowed my feelings and wandered off by myself.

And for the rest of the night I avoided as much direct contact with ND as I could to keep from crying. And at the end of the night he kissed me passionately, and looked into my eyes and smiled, and tried to get me to turn to mush with his loving, caring gaze. And as he smiled, he actually had the nerve to say “this is like we’re on the playa. And this time with you tonight is my reward at the end of it all”. I swear to God he thought violins were going to spontaneously start playing. It was all I could do not to let the disgust I felt show on my face. Did he honestly believe that I would be excited to be his reward?? Sorry, but that’s good for my why? After months of his ignoring me and flaking on me and leaving me alone to take care of our new baby? How could he honestly be so blind. And so self-centered!

So we get home after the party and I can’t fake being enthusiastic any more. I say “it was great” when he asks, but my heart’s not in it, and he can tell. And he starts to cry and says “I’m making everyone happy except you”. So we talked for a while, and I told him that I actually had been happy for him, that I was trying, but that his attitude towards me was as much the problem as the loss of his time and attention. I told him how I felt when he brushed me off when we were leaving the island. I told him about how I felt when he left me standing there at the party. And he had no reaction. None. Seriously, he was going to change the subject except I wouldn’t let him… So he explained why he left me standing there, and worked hard to justify it. But didn’t acknowledge that he had done anything. And if anything, he sounded annoyed that I was bothering him with little stupid details. So I let it go.

But then I was thinking about it and thought WTF??? So I called him on it. I asked why he had no reaction. And so he listened, sounded hurt and tired and “Oh poor me”, and said some stuff about how he really was happy to see me blah blah. And after a while I came to the conclusion that there must be a disconnect between how he feels and what he shows me. No really. He’s not REALLY so cold, he’s just ACTING cold… *sigh* I feel like a chump. I’m one of those women now, right? One of those women who’s husbands cheat on them, and they take them back, feeling vaguely like it was their fault? Cause Fig* is his mistress, but she’s one that I have to smile and embrace when what I really want is to throw a drink in her face.

We also talked about Decom that night, but that’s another issue and one I’ll talk about another time… I’ve been considering insisting that he quit being a regional. That would take Decom off the list. But he probably wouldn’t quit. He’d just make me feel like an asshole for asking. Whatever. Oh, let him go plan his stupid parties. Maybe I should just take Hallie and move away. It’s not like my family here would miss me.

Sunday was very hard. I didn’t want to go out to the island again, but felt I should see this thing through and be supportive. When I arrived it started raining — hailing actually, which was kinda cool — so I ran out by myself and took cover in the bus stop and gave children cookies. Went to a lecture. Fed Hallie when she fussed. Lulled her to sleep. Walked around again when the rain stopped. It was pretty quiet and empty, and everyone I knew was working. And I was sort of ok, but lonely. And when I ran into ND’s dad, who was there doing reiki, I burst into tears.

I want to keep going but I’m exhausted. It’s 3am and I have to go to sleep. So quick events… I confided in his dad that it’s hard not working, just being a mom, and having ND as a husband who’s always working so hard. I felt better. Then I saw ND and we spent a little time together. That made me feel better too. He seemed to want to make some time for me, and I enjoyed it. And then because of the rain, and because the workers are my friends, and because I’m such a good sport, I offered to have the after-party at our house. On one level I really meant it to be generous and fun. I love these people, they’re my friends, I always love having people over. And at the same time that party was going to happen somewhere, so I may as well be at home.

Turned out to not be such a smart move. I guess. Cause when I saw Mina on the way back from the island, and she asked how it was being a mom, I started to cry. I didn’t mean to start talking to her about this, but I couldn’t help it. She was outraged. And it made me all outraged again. Even though ND had been nice for a while today, I just felt so powerless. And sad. And ultimately I couldn’t stay at the party the whole time without crying, so I went into the back hallway to meditate for a while.

Ok, going to sleep now…

Empty

I feel so empty. This is an attitude that I would like to shed.

I’ve felt empty this whole weekend, and did nothing positive to change it. I did a heroic “save my husband” move by helping him with a big project that was upsetting him, but in the process I avoided working on my best friend’s wedding invitations, avoided doing the poster he needed me to do, avoided working on my resume, and never packed for Atlanta.

I went to ranger training yesterday. It was the only way I can ranger on the playa this year, so I went, but I wasn’t really fully there. I worked on NDs project while I was there, and paid only half attention. On one hand I’ve been to 4 trainings, so none of it is new, and I wasn’t disrupting anyone. But on the other hand, I acted as if I don’t need to follow the same rules as everyone else.

I feel like I’m floating along, numb, waiting. The way to change that feeling is to do something to show that I am taking care of myself. Take a short walk. Do Bzzy’s invites. Wash my clothes. Eat something healthy. But it’s too late for eating healthy, I ate a burrito and nachos. I feel like crying, and this ache in my chest is throbbing.

Insecurity. I feel lost, like I’m not sure I can take care of myself. I’m going to start saving money in a serious way, even set up a bi-monthly auto pay today to save $2000 per month. I’ll try to stop spending. Set aside for my future. I am not invincible.

Am I dead? Or just acting like it?

Since I quit my job it has been quite a roller coaster. Exhilarating and a huge relief on one hand, but really blah, kind of depressing, and uncertain on the other… First of all, it has been much harder to find a new job than I thought it would be. Well, maybe not “harder” per se, but it has sure taken a lot longer. My last day was February 23rd, so that means I haven’t been working for 6 weeks. Wow. Now that I’m looking at the calendar, that’s longer than I thought. Somehow I was thinking it was only 3-4 weeks. Well, I guess 4-5 isn’t that off from 6… Anyway. The point is that this is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I thought I’d get something instantly. And it’s not for lack of trying. I put in several hours every day on the job hunt, and have lots of great leads. But I’m not in a huge rush to just take something, anything, either. I want the right fit, so I’m just chugging along.

But I feel like I’m not really here, if you know what I mean. Oh sure, I’ve done some stuff… I took a freelance job for a while, took a cooking class, talked to two people about volunteering, gone out some, cleaned a few closets… But mostly I’ve just been playing a whole lot of Civilization. And staying up way too late, and eating too much. And sitting around obsessively checking email. And sleeping. And quietly letting hours pass as I watch TV.

I have the distinct feeling that I’m waiting for something. It’s like I’m waiting for someone to say “Ok, go!” or for someone to tell me that I’m awesome again. And it makes me wonder, when did I stop being awesome? And if I’m still awesome, why don’t I actually want to do anything? The whole world is open to me and I’m drawing a big fat blank. Awesome.

But it’s also not like I’m not interested in anything, or don’t have anything I can or want to do… I have so many little projects… Check that the insurance hasn’t run out on my ring. Buy train tickets for our trip to England. Write to my friend Rick about having lunch. Shorten my white fake fur coat. Make an interior fabric structure for our dome at Burning Man. Re-solder the el-wire connection that broke on my red jacket. Join Weight Watchers again. Take walks in the park, get my bike out of storage. Go shopping for new clothes. For new makeup. Finish playing Zelda on the Wii. Read God of Small Things which I started 2 weeks ago and haven’t made it through the first chapter. Replace the bulb in my head lamp. Find a new OB/GYN. Call Tony Robbins maybe, or check out Landmark Forum… Do something. Call someone. Take action. Stop waiting.

Ok, go!

:/

Boundaries, Guilt, Medication and Journeys

So, today’s my first day of vacation between the old job and the new… The old job was eating me alive, the new job is INCREDIBLE. I want to get off on the right foot with the new place, but I’m finding a lot of pressure to start earlier, do work during this week, push my pre-arranged vacation (in august) etc… I want to be flexible and I want to do a good job, but I’m not good at saying no.

I’m also taking a journey next weekend, with a drug that is supposed to take me to a new place… Because it has MAOI in it, I can’t take my medication or drink coffee or eat a whole bunch of other items… It’s making me cranky!!!

And I’m eating the whole house. So far I’ve lost over 10 pounds, but I’m slipping.

Feeling good tonight

Big client dinner, multiple agencies, stayed on program, big launch tomorrow. The culmination of a lot of hard work for many team members. I feel really good.

Still here, still working on the comeback

I'm not good with using month-long goals to make myself do things I'm not quite ready to do. I think I have to actually be ready to do them in order to be successful, surprise surprise.

So here I am, Staging My Comeback II. This time I'm just trying. I'm not setting major MUST DO THIS goals, I'm just trying. However, I'm on Weight Watchers agin. I promised that I'd be on program this week. I was, and am. I'm 27 points over for the week, but it's the best 27 points over I've ever experienced. Wine tasting with my dad, a little extra butter at LB+D's wedding lunch, Thai Satee when I was unprepared at ranger training…

It's all good. I weigh in in the morning, I think I'll lose weight. I feel good. Myself again. Next week I think I'll try core again.  

Comeback, or go forth?

I've written a post in my head every day this week. I've been thinking about writing, I've composed ideas, come to revelations. Yet I'm hung up on my broken vows and my for-one-month-I-will's…

But rather than berate myself for what I haven't done, I will say this. I do want to stage my comeback. I do want to be present. I do want to lose weight, to be happier, to feel more alive.

The road to reaching my goals is definitely not to focus on what I haven't done, but to pull myself up by my bootstraps and start now. There is a difference between being accountable and being debilitating. 

Who am I? I'm sensitive, oversensitive, distrusting and wary.  

I can use this to my advantage, or I can set myself up for failure.  Smaller goals are key. Forget the month-long all or nothing vows. For one month I will try to keep my goals in focus.

Who am I?

Day 2 of the "Who am I" challenge. I'm feeling much more in my own body today. I feel like I'm being who I am a bit more. Lighter, happier, more relaxed.

ND had a fight with me tonight. I wasn't (and still am not) mad at him, but he was drunk and blew the issue I had (and still have) WAY out of proportion. He started screaming at me, trying to play lawyer "so explain to me why that's the case. I really want to know more about THIS" and so on… I tried to diffuse the situation, explained that I wasn't blaming him, stated my feelings in neutral me statements, but to no end. He felt blamed, turned blamed into feeling attacked, and turned attacked into being furiously angry. Stomping of feet, clenching of fists and walking out ensued.

How does this have to do with who I am?

Well, I'm someone who doesn't let someone else's out of control reactions suck her into a fight. I'm someone who stays cool and level headed, and I'm someone who still cares about ND and hopes he'll come home and let go of this. I would be happy to entirely let this go, or simply table it until the morning when he's sober and we can have a reasonable conversation.

A Dream? Not so sure…

Last night I had a dream that is so completely indicative of my life right now it’s scary. All the emotions, and even my reactions…

First, looking out a window from a very high floor filming (with my new supacam) the devastation of 9/11 or some war… It’s beautiful, red earth like Gone with the wind… Dirt, rubble, no one alive – oh look, there’s someone walking a dog. I always have 9/11 dreams when I’m really stressed out. It sets the tone of the dream. This time there were parts of Katrina mixed in. Houses ripped apart, black children playing in a dilapidated schoolyard outside a broken down housing project, with no other humans in sight. Black mold running up the walls of the cracked brick.

I realize I was at a creative conference of some sort. Looking at design work, realizing that some of my favorite work in the conference was done by people I know, people who are still “artists” while I’m a marketer… I had a nice time though, joking around, trying not to let the feeling of failure get to me. Was having a very nice time, getting lighter, managing the doubt… I was told that I had received an urgent phone message from my father. A recording. I listened to the message and it was old. I was telling me I had to come down and see Aunt Brenda because she was dying.

But she’s already dead, months ago, how old is this message? I listen to the next message. It seems my oldest friend Sam is devastated, and it’s all my fault. There was a bill. Somehow I was supposed to pay a bill for her (maybe it was my bill and she assumed it as a favor to me?) and I never paid it. A passport tax of some sort, $1150 – a LOT of money for someone who’s trying to have a singing career. But I never paid it, and Sam had arranged her very first big vacation. A cruise. And she couldn’t go. She was all packed, at the airport, and they wouldn’t let her on the plane because she owed $1150, and since she couldn’t reach me, she couldn’t pay it. And my father was a messenger, but who knows when he gave the message.

So Sam missed her cruise across the world – from Atlanta to Dubai to Africa to some other totally far out of the way Middle East location (don’t ask me to make sense geographically in a dream!) – and because she couldn’t pay, she missed the starting point, and because it’s a cruise, she can’t just show up late. And because this is her first BIG vacation, she’s planned all these things that she’ll have to give up, even if she were to go late.

I’m devastated. She’s devastated. It’s horrible. I feel horrible. I’m in her hotel room, apologizing. She doesn’t want my apology. She’s numb, finds me annoying. It doesn’t matter the intentions or how it happened, but I should have taken care of it. I follow her into the shower, she wants me to go away but I’m still apologizing, and trying to find a way to make things right. What can I do, what can I arrange, who can I call? And I use the toilet while we talk. #2.

She gets out of the shower, I’m still talking, only now I’m trying to flush the toilet, realizing I shouldn’t have used it while she’s in there, because it smells. Flush, goddamnit! I wrangle with the flusher and it won’t go down. NOOOOO!!! It starts to fill up with water, but nothing’s going down. The pile of shit rising to the top and FUCK, overflowing the rim and landing onto the floor. Panic. Apologies all over the place. Hilarity, levity, somehow this makes things somewhat ok because it’s so pathetic!!

And I follow her back into the main room. We work out a plan, though I don’t remember exactly what it is, and other people start to come in and out, and there’s packing of suitcases and things going on all around me… And before we leave I go into the bathroom, mop in hand, and it’s fucking CLEAN already! WHAT??? “No, no, I had to clean it, it smelled” Sam says. “But that was my shit all over the floor, it was mine to clean, I was going to clean it, I wasn’t going to leave it”. Too late. She had cleaned it. And someone else had packed my bag.

And all that’s left is a pathetic hopelessness and panic realizing that I can’t seem to do anything right. I look around. What have I forgotten?

“Are you coming?” Oh, I guess I’m also making them wait…

Happy Hour

I saw my mother again the other night. It was the first time we’ve seen each other in over a month, and the first time we’ve spent more than a few minutes together since Christmas.

Meeting her is very strange, and strained. It’s like we’re both watching each other, waiting to see what the other will do. From me: Will she stay guarded? Is something wrong? Why won’t she smile with her eyes. Oh, she has been here for a while. Was I late? We said 7:30, no? Oh, 7:15, so I’m late. Uh oh, better explain. I wasn’t pushing you away. I wasn’t being rude. I wasn’t trying to make a statement. I got the time wrong, I would NEVER be late on purpose. Oh please forgive me. I’m bad. Even though I came out with a fever. And after the worst day at work. I’m still bad. I can’t seem to get the rule “make her come first” right.

We had a nice dinner. Stayed for hours had a lot to say. Left, and that was the end of it. Didn’t obsess over the conversation. Didn’t much think about it.

I guess that’s a win. Hooray.