The Tide

"Save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone"
-Aimee Mann

I went to visit my BFF and her baby boy recently. As you know from my previous posts I've been tired and listless lately, but I wanted to see them so I made the effort. She was really excited for me to come, but I'm not fooling myself. I knew that 80% was because it gave her a break from the baby (her husband watches him when I'm around) and 20% was to actually see me. Maybe 70/30. At any rate I know that I'm a kind of distraction so I try to act the part. Admittedly I was using the visit as a kind of distraction myself, so all's fair. She's always been extremely perceptive of changes in my behavior, but I figured she's been so cooped up and depressed about her life lately that she wouldn't really notice. I tried but I couldn't muster a lot of energy. We drove out to the mall, something I haven't done in ages so it was fun and a nice change of pace for me. I usually hate shopping to begin with, but lately it seems I can't even find staples that I like so it makes it ten times worse. There is nothing remotely wearable out there (if you have any taste that is). Everything is either uglier than sin or doesn't fit in any way shape or form. It's depressing.

Anyway, I found myself kind of slowly going down throughout the afternoon. Maybe being with her reminds me of how I was when I was a teenager (we've been friends for 17 years) and how nothing has really seemed to change for me since then regarding my alone-ness. I'm not unhappy where I have landed, and in terms of career and friends and location I'm where I want and thought I'd be. It's just that one aspect that always drags me down. Perhaps it really just comes down to not reaching a long time goal, finding love with someone I connect with on such an intense but comfortable level, that makes me feel I have somehow failed. Maybe more so myself than anyone else's expectation.

During the course of our conversation she asked if I thought I'd ever get married. I kind of stumbled over a reply that came out something like 'well I'd like to you know'. And then she changed the subject. There was no lead in into that question either so it struck me as kind of odd, not that she asked because we talk about this all the time, but how it came and went with no explanation. She went on to talk about going to her college reunion, which I realized will be 10 years for me too next year.

QV: Can you believe we've been out of school for 10 years? it will be 15 for high school soon!
BFF: No. Well, yes when I look at (my husband) and grad school and the baby and where we've lived-
QV: (suddenly very aware of how little has changed for me) yeah...
BFF: We're also going to the benefit at (our high school) next month.
QV: Really?
BFF: I think it'll be a lot of fun with (the baby).
pause.
QV: (suddenly very sad) I just don't want to get involved.
BFF: With the benefit?
QV: With the benefit, with...everything in general. (pause) I think I may be kind of a little bit depressed.
(we both laugh a little)
BFF: I'm naming my first album that. Maybe kind of a little bit depressed.
QV: You know what I mean though. It's not debilitating, it's just there all the time-
BFF: Why?
QV: ...I don't know
BFF: Of course you do. People who know they're depressed usually know why they just have a hard time admitting it-

I hate that she's always right. She works in the field so there's a reason for her always knowing, but her knowing that and knowing me, she knows why. She just wants me to say it so I can make the problems real by saying them. Or at least get started on recognizing them so I can try to figure out what to do to change things. So I think anyway.

I wanted to say I'm just so sad, but I knew if I tried to make a sound at that moment it would only come out as a sob. I turned my head and looked out the window to hide my eyes glassing over. She said 'it's a lot of pressure, doing all you've done by yourself'. That made the tears sting even more. I'd never thought of it like that. Since I was a kid I've put more pressure on myself than anyone in authority ever could. I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to be a good friend, I wanted to be the peacemaker among peers, I wanted to make my parents proud. I earned myself the start of an ulcer when I was 16 because of it. I've learned to relax since then...albeit only a little here and there, but maybe that pressure to be all that I wanted to be is finally caving in on me. I have everything I want, except one thing: someone to share it all with. In terms of self-pressure, that's a heavy load of disappointment in myself.

BFF: Do you think you should get some help? (she asks for the third time)
QV: (opening the car door) Yeah, not going to happen. (shuts the door and peers through the window) I'm not yet sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall. When that happens you can call for help.
BFF: (laughing) Right. Ok it's a deal.

On the train home I couldn't hold them back anymore and I let a few tears slip down my face. There is an all encompassing sadness that can envelope you in a public place and make you feel invisible if you just turn your head toward the window. Inside the tears are weighted with self-pity and sadness, out there they just water the grass. Oddly enough, sometimes remembering how small a grain of sand I really am makes me feel a little better. What seems so big deflates a little and the sadness eventually ebbs.

Here's hoping the next flow doesn't crush me.

Grinning and Baring It

Well...the most dreaded day of the year, which now occurs annually, has come to pass and as per usual I survived it. (And I was unnaturally calm about all of it. It was nice to not work myself up into a tizzy for once.) After visit number three to the gynecologist, still in my juvenile mind I walked away thinking, I can't believe she is the only person who has ever felt me up. Those assholes on public transportation who 'accidentally' touched me don't count. Not that having my doctor squeeze the crap out of my breasts is any more enjoyable, but it's a lot more extensive and undeserving of dirty looks since she's only trying to keep me healthy.

Doc: (looking at chart) The last time you were here you were 29, so that makes you 30.
QV: (um...did you really just say that?) yes.
Doc: And you were not sexually active. Is that still the case?
QV: (pathetic kind of laugh) ogod it's obvious! yes.
Doc: We started you on the pill only to regulate your period.
QV: Yeah...but maybe some day...

Then the real fun began as the lovely speculum was brought forth.

Doc: This may hurt a little.

YA THINK? I must have been more tense this time, which is odd because I actually felt more relaxed, or she spent more time down there than last year because it hurt more than a little. (She did say she was going to do a second test now that I was 30, but far be it from me to remember what it was now.) Nothing unbearable mind you, but enough that I probably made it worse by tensing up the rest of my body. I've read in a few different places that it's only supposed to cause discomfort...unless you tense up. It kind of worries me because I know sex is supposed to hurt the first time and I wonder if I'll be able to do it if I have the option of saying 'get the hell off me'. Then again, I don't expect he'll be shaped like a metal speculum that is cranked open.

Overall, I still really like my doctor. I spent a total of about half an hour in the office waiting time included, which was amazing considering last year it was about 2 hours. I guess it goes to show no two exams are alike. Except that getting a pap smear is uncomfortable.

I am sure to receive my postcard with the results in a few weeks. Fingers crossed for the bright, blooming flowers.

Standing Still

I'm so tired. The exhausted kind of deep in your bones tired. I tell everyone it's because of this apartment thing and how stressful it is. The tired part of my exhaustion is definitely because of it. But the zombie-like going through the motions part is the overwhelming emotional coaster that starts in numbness, ends in numbness, but steamrolls through sadness, contentment and the crushing need to ignore it all on a daily basis. The question of 'what is it I'm meant to do' I was able to give up long ago in order to be happy with what I was doing, so why can't I do the same with how I'm meant to live my life? Why is that one so much harder to reconcile with how I'm living it?

I cried watching the news this morning. It happens every year. I only need to hear the newscasters mention the times the planes hit the towers to begin, and then full on streaming tears when the names are called out. And every year I hear a little tidbit from a speaker about a family member who perished before I have to turn it off, and it's always someone I've never heard about before. Today it was a man who the family member said used to collect left over food after business meetings to bring to homeless shelters. I think I actually felt my heart break.

The day after my watch stopped a few months ago, I stopped wearing one altogether. It's nice not to be so concerned with the time. But what if I wake up 50 one day with one devastating regret?

Why have I never loved someone?

Maybe I just need to stop pretending that because I'm ok alone, I can forget that life would be so much grander if I had someone to share it with.

I need to move. I need to be moved. And it has to happen soon...