Comments should be fixed now!

I apologize for the inconvenience.

On a side note, I am in the running for a professional blogging job. I will keep you all posted.

Risen from the dead

I'm not dead yet! Despite the silence to the contrary.

I needed to retreat into myself. Writing forces too much self-confrontation, this blog was a mirror from which I needed a rest. I actually started doing much better after that last post. My new medication was raised to a level that finally seemed to work. The never-ending obsessions in my mind quieted and then disappeared. So I came back to NY and back to teaching. Which frightened me.

My mother, inspired by the changes she saw in me, decided to go to a psychiatrist and have her medication adjusted. She also started taking her therapy more seriously, which she began after attending a session with me. These things helped her quite a bit. And helped us living with her as well. Our relationship has vastly improved. Better than it has ever been I suspect.

Anyway, I've been back in my little apartment in Jersey since late January. I didn't have internet at my house until 2 weeks ago. I didn't think blogging anonymously about my love life was a good idea at work. And I still felt like my footing on the ground was tenuous, liable to slip back into madness at any moment. So I kept things in my life as simple as possible.

Turns out, I have some sort of unholy combination of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder-Depression-and ADD!! What fun for me! This explains why the depression would never go away, why I tried to kill myself ten years ago to get my head to shut up, and why I felt so unstable and crazy after I went off my meds last year. Good to know.

I have new dating stories and new observations, if any one out there is still interested. I'll try to start blogging regularly again. But I can't make any promises.

Remember the movie "Never-ending Story"? The scene at the end when the hero has to face the mirror that shows you as you truly are, this was supposed to be the most difficult challenge of them all, and it never made sense to me as a child. I watched that movie over and over, and always puzzled about that stupid mirror. Big deal, you see yourself as you really are... how hard can that be?

Now I know. It is devastating. Once you get enough years under your belt, have lived long enough to have regrets and memories you thought you'd forgotten, then being forced to remember and see all your flaws is one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. (And I have known some serious pain). This was what I was obsessed with, every mistake I ever made. My mind played the memories for me over and over, so I would compulsively shout to myself "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" The shame would flood my entire body. After this went on daily, every minute that my mind was not otherwise occupied, it made me non-functional. The routine lasted for 12 months. It still comes back now, but only when life makes me unbalanced or stressed. And the noise isn't as loud as it used to be.

It killed my heart and my soul. So I am rebuilding. Rising from that death. Hopefully.

Have you ever escaped a shipwrecked life?

Ahh, to relive one's childhood abuse, on a lovely Saturday evening, 'tis grand.

Curled up in bed, crying again, my mind turned to the blog, "I should write and I'll feel better." Then I thought, "no one wants to read about this. It's pathetic. A grown woman reduced to this because her mommy got mad at her?" Ah...but then I remembered many of the comments left here, people who say they appreciate reading that someone else suffers as they do, to read their own thoughts in another's voice.

People do not talk about their abusive parents. Not unless they are in group, but who wants to do that? Mormons are especially silent about domestic abuse. Because 'families are forever' (that song used to make me cry), families are a god-given gift, they are sacred, we are so lucky to have them, we should cherish them, etc., etc., etc...excuse me while I vomit. I know my family can't be the only abusive mormons, there has to be a reason Utah has the highest rate of anti-depressant prescriptions in the county. So here's my story.

We could never please my mother. We never knew when she was going to blow, or why. It was just best to assume that she would be angry, that way there would be no surprises. However, over the past ten years, she has mellowed tremendously. And she has made a huge effort to reach out to me. She often does nice caring things for me, which almost never happened when I was a child. So then I slowly let my guard down and began to want to trust her. And then I would want to do nice things for her too, and I would start to let her into my life... and then WHAM!!! Out of nowhere she does something nasty and hurtful and insane.

This morning she asked me to do something for her (clean the litter box). I agreed. But I didn't get to it until the evening. Then I decided to buy some new accoutrements for her litter box situation. I had hoped to surprise her, but she forced her debit card on me when she heard I was going to the store.

I got home quite pleased with my find and happy to do something for her for a change. I was excited for her to see what I'd bought and expected her to be pleased. I set up the new litter stuff, scrubbed the outside of the stinky box and continued to do my laundry.

She was angry. She didn't like those liners because blah blah blah... Which of course made me angry. My brother tried to calm me down. He said, "Don't take it personally. She's just mad about her job or something." Of course it was personal! She pissed all over my gesture. Just like she always did before. Which is why I stopped gesturing, why I never trusted her, why I shrank from her affection, and ultimately found the world an untrustworthy, horrid place.

I couldn't believe how bad this made me feel. How vulnerable and betrayed I felt all over again, just like I did growing up. Which just made me angry and sadder. It's so confusing to have a parent like this. You never know what you will get. You are supposed to love them, obligated to love them, but how can you feel anything beyond the resentment and anger? And those feelings cause extreme guilt and self-hatred, because you shouldn't feel that way about your mother. And if you do get past those fun feelings, then you are stuck with the broken and hurt child, who can only sob at her disappointment. She made mom mad again. She failed again. Rejected again.

What else is a child to think? But an adult knows better.

Oh, the woman is trying. Later that night, she said she was sorry. She was a bad communicater, etc. etc. I nodded and began to cry. She put her arm around me a second and then walked away. She actually apologized, which is a major step for her. Why didn't I feel better? Because she didn't stay to listen to me. She didn't let me tell her why it hurt so much. That I was beginning to trust her and our relationship, and she crushed it again, just like she always did. Still, the confusing part is that I am proud of her for apologizing. I know how hard that was.

Yeah, baby, families are forever.

Cosmic Dancer

Well. I have no metaphors this evening and wax not poetic.

George wrote me back that same night I posted 'My Own Private Idaho'. It was confusing, he responded sweetly but superficially. He said he was surprised by my email and sorry things didn't work out better. He just didn't work out. Then he went on to chatter about the other things in my email, details about my life and things about his. He didn't answer my questions as to what happened between us, or why he never told me about his marriage. His perogative. My job is done.

My therapist was right. The weighty mystery of 'what if?' is now gone. I don't feel guilty anymore. It seems very strange that this should be so. The human heart must operate very simplistically: I told him + nothing happened = Move on. Amazing. I'm really astonished. I suppose now I can start forgiving myself for not divulging that I loved him way back when it mattered.

What confuses me is that he seems to really want to be email friends and has replied to my messages right away and with enthusiasm. But I won't try to guess at his intentions anymore, it's a dangerous game. Where do we go from here? Part of me wants to tell him everything and ask him everything and send him 50 emails. The rational part of me wants to leave it alone, to step back and give myself some space. He is married. The end.

I'd like to be friends with him again some day. Some day when I can distance the emotion between us. When I can come to him as a different person, someone whole. Not now.

Meanwhile, he waits for my reply.

my own private idaho

What a deliciously, perfect expressive phrase. My own private idaho. It evokes the solitary valleys and caverns of grief, the resounding echoes of the punishing thoughts that the mourner suffers. My own private Idaho.

Remember George? (of Tainted Love fame). I never mourned that loss, I got no closure. Despite the poetic turn of events, I never knew what happened to him, to us, or my ridiculous fantasies of a future together. After months of therapy about everything else in my past, I suddenly discovered the reason I stopped loving my work. I blamed my schoolwork for losing George. If I had never left to come to NY, then it would have been me he married. My ambition damned me to this fate. Such is the way the infantile unconscious mind thinks. I had no idea.

Closure, the therapist said. I had to tell him my feelings for him, because I never did. She promised I would heal. So I agreed to do it, not knowing the torrent of pain and emotion that would avalanche. Not realizing how much I had stored away, how the grief would feel like I lost him yesterday instead of 3 years ago.

He has a webpage. With pictures. You can send messages. I found it two weeks ago. I sent a 'hello' email first. He replied two hours later and sounded excited to hear from me, and not so excited about his life. I spent a week working on my email, THE EMAIL. I sent it last night around 2 am. I said I was sorry I never told him I was in love with him back then, that I knew it didn't matter anymore, but this email was therapy for myself. I also wrote a lot of other things. He replied at 6 am.

All day I was freaked out knowing the message waited for me at home. I couldn't read it at work because I didn't want to cry. His last email was so sweet and sad it made me sob for hours. All day I tried to prepare myself for whatever he might say. Tried to imagine the worst possible words so there would be no surprises.

Yet he surprised me anyway. Just a line saying he would reply later. Another sign of his considerate and kind nature, letting me know he got it and that he would respond in due time.

His wife has a page too, also with pictures. They have been married for three years. They have a whole life, a house, a dog, and married couple friends. And I? I am the Cheese. It makes me so sad and angry and ashamed for my covetous feelings.

Now I must wait. Wait for him to release me, to tell me the words I need to hear; whether they be that he fell madly in love with her and is deleriously happy or that he has struggled but believes in his commitments, that he is sorry I went through this, that he never knew I felt this way or that he did know I felt that way... whatever they may be, it will be a relief to know.

I lie in wait, curled in bed, crying off and on.

My own private idaho.

Sorry for the long silence my ether-friends. I did find a job after a lot of stress and turmoil, that took a while to get used to. Then I went through more turmoil trying to decide on staying in Florida or going back to teach in NY. I chose to stay another semester so I can continue my therapy and other treatments. It's nice not to be alone all the time. My mother and I are working our stuff out. The Balmy Tropics post shamed me so much I didn't want to blog anymore. I do have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My therapist is wonderful. I'm on meds again that at least make the obsessive thoughts go away (I'm also OCD), but hey, at least I'm not crazy. Ha Ha.

It's been hard. I haven't had the energy to write. But I'm getting better.

Thank you for the love.

from the balmy tropics

I haven't posted in so long because I'm not feeling well. In many ways I am more depressed now than when I got here. It's hard to live this way, off the mercy of my family. I can't find a job. So I have to beg for money from my parents which makes me ill. My relationship with my mother is not good. Many of you may think I should take the opportunity to improve it. But my response to that is 'No', for the following reasons:
A) She is more unstable than I've seen her in 12 years.
B)I'm more unstable than I've been in 10 years.
C)I just don't want to. Because she is mean and doesn't like me.

She loves me but that's different. She doesn't like my company. She doesn't respect my opinion. She doesn't want to talk to me or try to get to know me. She won't even respond politely when I try to talk to her. She won't even eat the food I cook. I spent an hour preparing chicken parmesan for them. She said she wasn't having any then opened a can of refried beans, mixed it with salsa and put it in the microwave.

I started exercising. My goal is to lose 15 pounds this summer. So I have been running/walking 2 miles almost daily. The last 3 weeks I made it out about 4 or 5 times per week. I've lost 2 pounds. That really sucks. The only good thing about coming here is that I'm in therapy and I have a car. And I've been to the dentist and the gynecologist. I'm waiting for an appointment for an internist so I can find out why I have pains in the right side of my back.

But I find myself losing steam for exercising. It's not working. What's the point anyway?

For those of you who still remember the Webcam dude episode, I finally read his second email. He was angry, defensive and put everything back on me. Went on and on about how the fact that I told my friends about our conversation in such a way as to horrify them says more about me than him and I must think he is a pervert which is really the scary thing, blah blah blah. ISSUES. There is a good reason why that successful, attractive, tall mormon man is still single in his mid-30s.

Wednesday I see the shrink who will undoubtedly put me back on medication. Maybe in a few weeks I'll feel better.