Or, at least, I have finished this day.
It started out fairly modestly, turned into fairly exciting, and ended with me sticking my feet in six inches of freezing water, searching for a metaphor.
I guess you could say I relapsed again.
I knew this was going to happen, a few times a least, when I set out to do this. I knew I would break down at least once to my new friends. I knew I would battle the sadness and the shame more than once so that I might come out of it stronger. I just wish it hadn't been so petty, what sparked it--although, you can hardly call anything sparking my moods, they build up until I break and I kind of just have to let the flood gates open. It's pathetic and stupid, but it is who I am, for now I suppose. I would like to, someday, not be so blatantly emotional, but maybe it is right and it is good that I am. Maybe, I just haven't found the good of it yet.
The water was freezing, and I could only last a minute, but I urged myself to last longer. I begged myself to stay in. I made myself stand there and look through the interlaced branches above, up into the stars. Except for the numbing sensation in my toes, it was peaceful, and perfect. We can say now that it was underwhelming, not really what we were planning, but it wasn't wrong in any way.
Last night, as it is now, I took a few drags from a cigarette, I had four beers, I watched a movie and rewrote many of the lines with my friends. Friends, people that I want in my life, but when it comes down to it, I tend to push away. I tend to not want to get close, when what I truly need is a good hug and someone to have coffee with. But, the people in my life who tell me that they love me, those people have always managed to disappear. Whether they use me and lose me, or just walk away, or leave angrily at something I selfishly have done, it doesn't matter. Anyway it happens, it happens. It's sad, and it's a little pathetic, but it is life. It is a life I am not happy with, a life I am constantly battling against, and yet I push away those who tell me they are here, and who I should probably believe. I have often said, if I could get myself to put stock in anything, maybe something would come of it. I am sure that is true of friendship.
Amanda said something, something I should have been happy about. Something a true friend celebrates for another. And yet, I wasn't. I turned bitter and the facade of the day broke. The little game I had been playing was forfeit. The little mask I was wearing ripped off.
But they stood by me. Amanda and Kirstie, when I was a bitch, when I was a cold, jealous bitch, stood fucking by me.
They said something, something I don't know that I have ever actually heard: "I'm not going anywhere, no matter how hard you push."
And I push pretty fucking hard.
So I cried, in the car, just fucking sobbed in their arms for a while. Because, every now and then you should do it in somebody's arms. It's one thing to cry in doorways and the shower, it's another to do it against somebody's bicep. It's humiliating and freeing all at once; I think we need more of this combination in our lives.
It was offered several times for someone to drive me home. I was in the process of driving someone home when I broke, and now everyone was rushing to take me back to my house. But, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be couped up. I wanted to drive, I wanted to breathe, I wanted to do anything but go home alone. So, Kirstie got in the driver's seat, and I scooted to the passenger's, and we proceeded to drive.
I flipped on my iPod and scrolled to The Beatles. Searched through all of their songs until I hit the one I wanted. Pressed play, lifted my feet to the dashboard, curled my arms across my chest, and watched the world pass by. As the song played, my favorite song, the one that can make me smile no matter what, I began to cry. Kirstie reached over, and without saying anything, took my hand. The night went on outside, the music played softly in the car; everything was still for just that moment.
We went to IHOP for cheap coffee and I made her laugh when I didn't mean to, and a little bit when I did. And we talked about deep things. She told me her first impression of me, and how she wanted to know what broke me. No one has ever asked me that before. I still haven't really answered, I don't think.
And, she told me this, when I said that at the end of all of this, all I truly want is to be able to say, "I accept who I am, and I forgive whomever hurt me, including myself." She said this: I think you need to start with forgiving yourself.
And then there was this idea in my mind, to cleanse, to wash clean. So, in the spirit of the memoir and the project I am attempting to right my life, I took her out on a little adventure.
There is a creek that flows behind the neighborhood where I grew up. I stood in it, barefoot, because I didn't have the ability to jump into a river.
I would have, would have stripped down and thrown myself into a pond or a lake or a river, but everything was frozen and I wasn't wearing panties. But I would have. I would have jumped from a bridge into the Arkansas if I didn't think I might actually die from it--or land on a sand-flow and break something important. I wanted so desperately to be baptized of this feeling, that I would have done it. A bit of me wishes I had, if only to wash everything away, because the metaphor is so sickeningly sweet to taste. But, life isn't a television show, and there isn't always a river you can plunge into. I took what I could get, a freezing creek in the middle of my old neighborhood, and I made of it what I could.
And it didn't seem so cold for the five seconds I let go and stared up into the sky. It didn't seem so bad, not when there was so much out there to see.
We walked around a bit after; I shattered a mug we found in the mud and we screamed in a drain tunnel. We could have gotten onto the highway and just driven, could have gone anywhere we felt we could go. But, what we did, though small and seemingly useless, was better for the both of us. She came with me, kept on following me, didn't let go. She held my hand as I stepped into the water, and she reached out to grab it as I waded out. She was in it, with me, for me. She was there, and I finally believed she was going to be.
When we got in the car, shaking and shivering, she asked me how I felt. I told her I felt like I could make it 'til tomorrow. I was alright for tonight. And we headed home.
Alone in my car, I turned up The Beatles, and nearly went hoarse singing along to whatever came up on shuffle.
I think I am starting to grasp the concept that life isn't always what we want it, but we can make of it what we have the ability to; everything doesn't have to go according to plan, and that isn't so bad after all. Because, life boils down to the little adventures; the spontaneous moments in the dark; the people you chose to take along with you. And, if you stand still for a moment, and look at all the things there are to see, and try to take them all in, the pain doesn't seem so aching and the numbness doesn't seem so cold.
Eddie Izzard, Shitty Coffee, and a Few Adventures
It started out fairly modestly, turned into fairly exciting, and ended with me sticking my feet in six inches of freezing water, searching for a metaphor.
I guess you could say I relapsed again.
I knew this was going to happen, a few times a least, when I set out to do this. I knew I would break down at least once to my new friends. I knew I would battle the sadness and the shame more than once so that I might come out of it stronger. I just wish it hadn't been so petty, what sparked it--although, you can hardly call anything sparking my moods, they build up until I break and I kind of just have to let the flood gates open. It's pathetic and stupid, but it is who I am, for now I suppose. I would like to, someday, not be so blatantly emotional, but maybe it is right and it is good that I am. Maybe, I just haven't found the good of it yet.
The water was freezing, and I could only last a minute, but I urged myself to last longer. I begged myself to stay in. I made myself stand there and look through the interlaced branches above, up into the stars. Except for the numbing sensation in my toes, it was peaceful, and perfect. We can say now that it was underwhelming, not really what we were planning, but it wasn't wrong in any way.
Last night, as it is now, I took a few drags from a cigarette, I had four beers, I watched a movie and rewrote many of the lines with my friends. Friends, people that I want in my life, but when it comes down to it, I tend to push away. I tend to not want to get close, when what I truly need is a good hug and someone to have coffee with. But, the people in my life who tell me that they love me, those people have always managed to disappear. Whether they use me and lose me, or just walk away, or leave angrily at something I selfishly have done, it doesn't matter. Anyway it happens, it happens. It's sad, and it's a little pathetic, but it is life. It is a life I am not happy with, a life I am constantly battling against, and yet I push away those who tell me they are here, and who I should probably believe. I have often said, if I could get myself to put stock in anything, maybe something would come of it. I am sure that is true of friendship.
Amanda said something, something I should have been happy about. Something a true friend celebrates for another. And yet, I wasn't. I turned bitter and the facade of the day broke. The little game I had been playing was forfeit. The little mask I was wearing ripped off.
But they stood by me. Amanda and Kirstie, when I was a bitch, when I was a cold, jealous bitch, stood fucking by me.
They said something, something I don't know that I have ever actually heard: "I'm not going anywhere, no matter how hard you push."
And I push pretty fucking hard.
So I cried, in the car, just fucking sobbed in their arms for a while. Because, every now and then you should do it in somebody's arms. It's one thing to cry in doorways and the shower, it's another to do it against somebody's bicep. It's humiliating and freeing all at once; I think we need more of this combination in our lives.
It was offered several times for someone to drive me home. I was in the process of driving someone home when I broke, and now everyone was rushing to take me back to my house. But, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be couped up. I wanted to drive, I wanted to breathe, I wanted to do anything but go home alone. So, Kirstie got in the driver's seat, and I scooted to the passenger's, and we proceeded to drive.
I flipped on my iPod and scrolled to The Beatles. Searched through all of their songs until I hit the one I wanted. Pressed play, lifted my feet to the dashboard, curled my arms across my chest, and watched the world pass by. As the song played, my favorite song, the one that can make me smile no matter what, I began to cry. Kirstie reached over, and without saying anything, took my hand. The night went on outside, the music played softly in the car; everything was still for just that moment.
We went to IHOP for cheap coffee and I made her laugh when I didn't mean to, and a little bit when I did. And we talked about deep things. She told me her first impression of me, and how she wanted to know what broke me. No one has ever asked me that before. I still haven't really answered, I don't think.
And, she told me this, when I said that at the end of all of this, all I truly want is to be able to say, "I accept who I am, and I forgive whomever hurt me, including myself." She said this: I think you need to start with forgiving yourself.
And then there was this idea in my mind, to cleanse, to wash clean. So, in the spirit of the memoir and the project I am attempting to right my life, I took her out on a little adventure.
There is a creek that flows behind the neighborhood where I grew up. I stood in it, barefoot, because I didn't have the ability to jump into a river.
I would have, would have stripped down and thrown myself into a pond or a lake or a river, but everything was frozen and I wasn't wearing panties. But I would have. I would have jumped from a bridge into the Arkansas if I didn't think I might actually die from it--or land on a sand-flow and break something important. I wanted so desperately to be baptized of this feeling, that I would have done it. A bit of me wishes I had, if only to wash everything away, because the metaphor is so sickeningly sweet to taste. But, life isn't a television show, and there isn't always a river you can plunge into. I took what I could get, a freezing creek in the middle of my old neighborhood, and I made of it what I could.
And it didn't seem so cold for the five seconds I let go and stared up into the sky. It didn't seem so bad, not when there was so much out there to see.
We walked around a bit after; I shattered a mug we found in the mud and we screamed in a drain tunnel. We could have gotten onto the highway and just driven, could have gone anywhere we felt we could go. But, what we did, though small and seemingly useless, was better for the both of us. She came with me, kept on following me, didn't let go. She held my hand as I stepped into the water, and she reached out to grab it as I waded out. She was in it, with me, for me. She was there, and I finally believed she was going to be.
When we got in the car, shaking and shivering, she asked me how I felt. I told her I felt like I could make it 'til tomorrow. I was alright for tonight. And we headed home.
Alone in my car, I turned up The Beatles, and nearly went hoarse singing along to whatever came up on shuffle.
I think I am starting to grasp the concept that life isn't always what we want it, but we can make of it what we have the ability to; everything doesn't have to go according to plan, and that isn't so bad after all. Because, life boils down to the little adventures; the spontaneous moments in the dark; the people you chose to take along with you. And, if you stand still for a moment, and look at all the things there are to see, and try to take them all in, the pain doesn't seem so aching and the numbness doesn't seem so cold.
Eddie Izzard, Shitty Coffee, and a Few Adventures
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