This is the end of a very bad day indeed. For a while there I thought it was just hormones, but I am in a very bad state. I can't seem to stop crying. This week. It's just been too much of a rollercoaster for me.
I quit smoking weed a week ago. I have been pretty much a daily smoker for about a year and a half. It just kind of ended up that way. Now I've quit and I fucking feel like my heart is going to fling itself out my mouth and throw itself in front of a train. I'm sure it's healthy to be feeling things, but the intensity of my feelings is a bit frightening to me right now.
I can't sleep, I'm so overwrought. Everyone I saw today said I looked really tired, asked if I was sick. This is not a good sign. I went to Pitt Meadows instead of Port Moody to deliver flowers, they both have a Lehman Place. That made me get in rush hour traffic....I don't know. Just nothing went right all day. I had to yell at my bank to correct a mistake THEY made, so I wouldn't be flat broke for another week. Jerks. Don't they work for me?
Then on my way home I ran a red light, much to my horror. It was a pedestrian controlled light, and I wouldn't even have noticed if it wasn't for the scary man who yelled at me. "Hey, you fuckin' asshole, you just ran a red light." He was huge and angry and riding a bicycle. I was already at my wit's end, then that. I got so vibraty with anger and sadness and I don't know what...then he pulled up next to me on his bike a few blocks later and called me a fuckin' bitch for running the light, and I lost it. I screamed, and I mean screamed, at him, "Fuck you, it was a mistake. A mistake!" Then he started screaming obscenities at me and got off his bike and picked it up over his head and smashed it against my car and kicked my car and called me more names and I was fucking terrified. I drove home, came in the door and burst into tears. My roommate Chris got scared something terrible had happened. I explained through sobs and he sat me down and got me a beer and hugged me. I calmed down for a good portion of the evening. Katrin cooked a nice dinner and we watched America's next top model and read Strongbad emails on homestarrunner.com.
Then I decided it would be a good idea to go for a walk, I needed to deposit car insurance into my chequing account, so I thought I'd pop into the comedy night at El Cocal then walk up to my bank. I got to El Cocal and all the comics were around but no show. They had no audience tonight so they were just hanging out drinking beer. Mr. Married was there, dammit! I'm so fragile today, it just threw me for a loop and I felt so awkward. I wanted to curl up in his arms and just let us love each other. It feels worse to be reminded what it feels like and then just watch it evaporate. So we hugged, awkwardly, and I ended up sitting outside and crying my eyes out, after they'd all left. Crying walking to the bank, crying walking home.
Ultimately I'm completely confused about what I'm feeling. I know that a lot of this crying is over my father. I decided, for whatever reason, to read my dad's online obituary a couple of nights ago, where people left notes about him, how they knew him, how they felt about him. I hadn't read it since right after he died, and there was a lot on there, including a note from someone very dear to me who I lost contact with 9 years ago. I have thought about this woman probably every day since then and missed her. So I emailed her and thanked her for the note, and now we are exchanging emails. It is wonderful, and very emotional.
And my brother is having a crying week, and that's making me sad.
And even though I loved being in Bellingham, it was a huge stress, and also emotional, talking about my dad so much with those guys.
And the Mr. Married thing. I am happy it happened, don't get me wrong, I stand by what I wrote yesterday, but today I can't seem to separate out all my feelings and understand what's real, what's hormonal, what's what. I feel like smashing things. Like throwing rocks through windows. I am so bloody angry.
Then there was the little run in I had on Monday with an old family friend who is also very ill, and he thinks I should be doing further investigations into my dad's will, for whatever reason, and we had an ugly fight about it. He said some things that were very upsetting.
The cosmos are very dramatic for me right now, obviously, and I honestly don't think I'm creating the drama. I mean, except for the married man thing...which I suppose I could have avoided. But I don't know, I mean, we've liked each other so much for two years. Something was bound to rear it's head. Of course, I feel foolish around him, and think about him every fucking second. I'm hoping when the pms passes this all seems like a bad dream and I can get back to feeling sane. Right now I just feel unbelievably lonely and edgy. Very close to snapping. Even a long walk didn't clear my head the way I would have liked. And I want to smoke a joint and not think about anything. But it just seems like a bad idea. I don't know. I haven't decided. So far the only real benefit to not smoking seems to be an ability to tidy more often. And I remember to return phone calls. But it's not making me smarter, or happier, or anything.
And I want to see my therapist, but not actually. Because I don't think she's the right therapist for me. I don't think she has enough edge, doesn't get me. She's too nice, or not smart enough, or something. I told her a couple of weeks ago that I thought that I was smoking too much pot and I wanted to stop and we talked about it a bit and she didn't even ask me about it the next time I came in. What good is a therapist who doesn't challenge you? I don't need to be coddled. I need to get to the root of things. Of course, I feel the same guilt one feels when one wants to change hairdressers. I just feel like I have to coddle her, protect her a bit from my edge, and that's no good.
Yes. I'm intense. I feel it just oozing out my pores, this bizarre intense energy. I haven't felt this way in years. Today I'm a bit worried, but I'm hopeful that it will pass, which is, I guess, the main difference in things. I never used to be able to see the other end of things.
I'm going to Value Village tomorrow to buy cheap dishes and then I'm going somewhere to smash them. I need to scream and sweat and get really, really mad.
Even writing this didn't make me feel better. This sucks. How is it that I can know so surely that I am loved by so many amazing people, and yet feel so completely alone? My stomach hurts. I find myself praying a lot. God, maybe all the grief in the world over the Pope dying has got me bent out of shape. You know, I always get a bit out of sorts when something huge happens on the planet. Like I can feel all the chaos and emotion swirling around. Let's not forget that 2 billion people are Christian. That's a lot of sadness tornadoing about our atmosphere. Poor me, poor everyone. What will become of us? The existential angst. I'm going to give myself an ulcer if I'm not careful. I remember how much I fight with my own brain when I let it run on and on.
I need a fucking hug. And I don't want to have to get in my car to get it. I want to be held all night and brought tea in the morning. I want my tears gently wiped away with a strong, calloused thumb. A hand holding my head, a kiss in the hair. I want a month in the desert. I want quiet and respite and recuperation.
I gotta go. So much tossing and turning to do.
Thanks for listening.