Day 28: Revelations or something like it.
Today, I am at my mom's house. My old house and life from the past year are now EXTINCT. I don't know if this is much better. I am trying to be optimistic, but in a very small town where I have very small friends (1 is the loneliest number...blah, blah, blah) it's hard. "I have no one to talk to about not drinking!" I whispered into the phone to Dick, earlier. "You have me," he soothed. But I didn't think he understood. Al did not waltz into his life and FUCK IT UP.
I think I have to write with more frequency for this to really work. Do you know how much fucking pressure there is out there to drink? ANYTHING? SOMETHING? WITH ALCOHOL? The remarks are small - Jane! You are sexy when you drink! Jane? JANE! HERE! DRINK THIS! Jane, you are more fun when you drink! - and mostly uttered by people who are drinking, but I want to scream at them, "DON'T YOU THINK I WANT A FUCKING DRINK? THAT I WANT TO TASTE THAT FUCKING BOTTLE OF MERLOT/SAKE/BEER THAT YOU ARE WRAPPING YOUR LIPS AROUND RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE I DO! BUT I'M TRYING TO DO SOME GOOD HERE, SO KINDLY FUCK OFF!"
I got some pictures from an old friend I went to school with. He and some very good friends of mine, including Al, got together. And GOD, looking at those pictures. I wanted to be there. But I do this every time Dick and I separate. I am so afraid that THIS.IS.IT that I am desperate for someone to be in my life. I don't think that he understands that, either. Al does. He tells me "Call them. Reach out to them." And, while drunk phone calls were pretty much the norm in college, it's just kind of creepy now that we're in our 30's. A nuisance would accurately describe it, I believe.
I always feel like I need some kind of validation out of my old relationships. If they still love me, then they can see that happy sunny girl that I used to be. Somebody who knew me when said, "There's something in your eyes. So much sadness." And until I can learn to drown (yes, I know, process, grieve, what the hell ever I have to do to get it out.) that out, that attention needing me will never take a back seat to the woman that I am trying to build. She will scream out for another drink and drink and drink and drink until she finally believes that everyone loves her (even if they are really only embarrassed by her and feel sorry for her).
Which is maybe why I feel nostalgic for those days when I was 14 and15 and 16. When I drank that whole Vodka and Orange Juice because the boy that I adored whispered, "I love you" into my cup and then carried me home and fed me crackers and handi - vac'ed me clean. Harmless, really. That was the only time that he was really mine, all mine. Which is very, very sad.
Now that I am 30, I am ANGRY when drunk. That young girl has gone away. And now that I am not drunk, mostly just angry. Aimless.
What relationships Alcohol forged for me as a teenager, he quickly destroyed as I became an adult.
1.) My cousin, who called me a whore because I was drunk and kissed a boy.
2.) Jill, who feels uncomfortable around me when I drink.
3.) Sally, who I let down when I got drunk and kissed another boy.
4.) My cousin, who was mad at me for flirting with her husband (when I was drunk). Pattern?
5.) Dick's sons. The eldest who doesn't like to be around me when I'm drunk. Ditto for the younger.
The list goes on, but it's still too raw for me to continue it. And believe me, I could go all the way back to college. I always told myself that it didn't matter, but it does.
I quit because I was afraid Dick would top that list VERY SHORTLY if I didn't STOP.
But then stopping and coming back to the place that makes you the most crazy is probably the least smartest thing I've ever done. Especially when it makes me want to drink that much more. That my time here is indefinite makes it all the more STIFLING.
I feel really...FAKE. And irked by my self-centered ness. It's nauseating.
Jane says: Dame mas gasolina.
I think I have to write with more frequency for this to really work. Do you know how much fucking pressure there is out there to drink? ANYTHING? SOMETHING? WITH ALCOHOL? The remarks are small - Jane! You are sexy when you drink! Jane? JANE! HERE! DRINK THIS! Jane, you are more fun when you drink! - and mostly uttered by people who are drinking, but I want to scream at them, "DON'T YOU THINK I WANT A FUCKING DRINK? THAT I WANT TO TASTE THAT FUCKING BOTTLE OF MERLOT/SAKE/BEER THAT YOU ARE WRAPPING YOUR LIPS AROUND RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE I DO! BUT I'M TRYING TO DO SOME GOOD HERE, SO KINDLY FUCK OFF!"
I got some pictures from an old friend I went to school with. He and some very good friends of mine, including Al, got together. And GOD, looking at those pictures. I wanted to be there. But I do this every time Dick and I separate. I am so afraid that THIS.IS.IT that I am desperate for someone to be in my life. I don't think that he understands that, either. Al does. He tells me "Call them. Reach out to them." And, while drunk phone calls were pretty much the norm in college, it's just kind of creepy now that we're in our 30's. A nuisance would accurately describe it, I believe.
I always feel like I need some kind of validation out of my old relationships. If they still love me, then they can see that happy sunny girl that I used to be. Somebody who knew me when said, "There's something in your eyes. So much sadness." And until I can learn to drown (yes, I know, process, grieve, what the hell ever I have to do to get it out.) that out, that attention needing me will never take a back seat to the woman that I am trying to build. She will scream out for another drink and drink and drink and drink until she finally believes that everyone loves her (even if they are really only embarrassed by her and feel sorry for her).
Which is maybe why I feel nostalgic for those days when I was 14 and15 and 16. When I drank that whole Vodka and Orange Juice because the boy that I adored whispered, "I love you" into my cup and then carried me home and fed me crackers and handi - vac'ed me clean. Harmless, really. That was the only time that he was really mine, all mine. Which is very, very sad.
Now that I am 30, I am ANGRY when drunk. That young girl has gone away. And now that I am not drunk, mostly just angry. Aimless.
What relationships Alcohol forged for me as a teenager, he quickly destroyed as I became an adult.
1.) My cousin, who called me a whore because I was drunk and kissed a boy.
2.) Jill, who feels uncomfortable around me when I drink.
3.) Sally, who I let down when I got drunk and kissed another boy.
4.) My cousin, who was mad at me for flirting with her husband (when I was drunk). Pattern?
5.) Dick's sons. The eldest who doesn't like to be around me when I'm drunk. Ditto for the younger.
The list goes on, but it's still too raw for me to continue it. And believe me, I could go all the way back to college. I always told myself that it didn't matter, but it does.
I quit because I was afraid Dick would top that list VERY SHORTLY if I didn't STOP.
But then stopping and coming back to the place that makes you the most crazy is probably the least smartest thing I've ever done. Especially when it makes me want to drink that much more. That my time here is indefinite makes it all the more STIFLING.
I feel really...FAKE. And irked by my self-centered ness. It's nauseating.
Jane says: Dame mas gasolina.
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on Saturday, June 17, 2006 at 10:33 PM.
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