I've survived the weekend. Went to visit some friends... I guess I would call them some friends. A married couple that Frank and I met last month. Emma and I had stayed in touch, and of course she filled in Burt with all the news. They knew I was struggling so they invited me to their house, which is about 4 hours north of here.

My intention in going away was to keep myself busy. I didn't want to hang out at my apartment on a weekend, particularly since this was the time of the week that I would spend with Frank. So it seemed like one solution.

But it was hard. Difficult because it's hard for me to have chit chat, I really try but I'm in pain. So Emma would get all chirpy and talk about her kids and whatever, and I would find myself slipping away, or feeling exhausted.

I didn't realize that Emma and Burt were so well off- only when I got to the area where they live, and saw their house, and then they informed me that they owned all these other properties. I don't know why I felt strange. I was aware that Frank gets really uncomfortable around people with a lot of money. I think because he feels his own shame, he feels like he should have been more successful. I never really thought about it.

At any rate, I had a terrible headache and they made me lie on my back on the floor. Emma dug her fingers into the base of my neck, and Burt rubbed my jaw and temples. I haven't been crying nearly as much as I should. I mean, I feel like crying, and I want to cry, but it's like it's all jammed up inside me, like my jaw is clenched down on it. So when they were rubbing me I started to cry. Just then the next door neighbor walks in, a handsome young guy, and they introduce me. "Hello," I say, tears in my eyes, shaking his hand, "I have a headache." And this person I have never met before sits at my feet and starts rubbing and poking them. Turns out he's a reflexologist. Nice, huh? I wasn't able to release as much sadness as I would have liked, but it certainly felt good to have all the attention.

Sometimes my life is a little surreal like that. But I guess I should trust that I get what I need.

Then they took me to a party across the street. This was a strange, strange thing to do, I think, because they took me there and then it seemed as if they totally forgot about me. I lost them in a crowd of neighbors, obviously people they were very familiar with, and I stood a long time by myself at the food. Which is good, I suppose, because I finally ate some things. I spoke to a few people about superficial topics, you know, what do you do, where do you live kind of stuff. But there was an uneasiness about the conversations, like we had to be sure and fill up all the silences.

All the people there had a lot of money and apparently came from families with a lot of money. Most of the women were too thin.

It got to the point where I didn't know what to do with myself. My headache was back, I was tired and bored, and not at all interested in making any more stupid conversation. I went and sat on a couch by myself at the end of the room. After a while, a guy who was just a few years older than me came and sat in an adjacent chair. He looked well on his way to getting drunk.

"Hey," he said. I heyyed him back.

HIM: How do you know so-and-so?

ME: I don't. I came with Emma and Burt. (pointing in the general direction of a mob of people)

HIM: Emma and Burt? I don't know them.

ME: I don't either, really. I met them last month on vacation.

HIM: You met them on vacation.

ME: Yeah.

HIM: And now you're at their house.

ME: Yeah. For the weekend.

HIM: But they brought you here.

ME: Right. Where I don't know anybody.

HIM: And they're not even paying attention to you!

ME: Yes. Odd, isn't it?

HIM: That's really odd. You don't look very happy.

ME: I'm not. My boyfriend and I just temporarily separated-- well, I hope it's temporary anyway...

HIM (with a wry smile): So, you're in a really great mood for a party!

ME: Exactly.

HIM: It's like you've been abandoned all over again!

ME: I suppose so.

HIM: How long have you been together?

ME: Almost two years. He needs... uh... space... do you know anything about that?

HIM: Yeah. It's a guy thing. Guys need... space. Like me, with my wife, you know, I was freaked out about getting married. I thought I'd lose so much. I didn't realize how much I'd gain, you know? I was just freaked out.

ME: Yeah. I think guys create drama around their freedom... they always claim women create emotional drama, but men creat the same kind of drama around freedom...

HIM: It doesn't even make sense!

ME: I know. It's an illusion.

HIM: I was really freaked out.

ME: Well, thanks for listening.

HIM: You haven't told me anything.

ME: I know, but it means a lot to just say that much- to tell the truth.

And so proceeded my conversation with TipsyMan. Eventually he wandered away too, I found Burt and Emma, and we went back to their house.

On Sunday we had brunch and then all took naps. I had woken up feeling sad and felt even worse when I woke up from the nap. I cannot believe how shitty I feel. And it obviously doesn't matter where I go-- I cannot escape it. I don't know how I am going to get through day after day. I suppose I shouldn't think about that... that I should just take it one day at a time, one moment at a time if I have to.

***************************************

I was so ready to go home. I climbed into my bed and watched an old movie.

What I have learned in the past few days is the following:

1. That getting too much feedback and advice just confuses me and causes me more pain.

2. That it's important and feels good to tell the truth about what's going on with me. But I have to be selective about who I talk to. TipsyMan was a fine specimen since he was totally objective and unattached to any outcome, being drunk and a complete stranger. Not that I'm going to start going to bars and laying my stuff on people. But I should at least search out objective supportive types.

3. I like being alone. Sometimes the best way to take care of myself is just to be alone. There is a belief that it's best to be social to heal a broken heart, but that's not for me right now.

ta-da.

Duck

[previous] [next]