Took the day off yesterday, and went to work with Molly. So I still get paid for my sick day, as well as the extra $ I made working for her. Even though it took quite a bit of preparation and travel time to do the extra job- so I'm not quite sure it was worth the money I was paid, but at least I have a little extra cash, to make up for that bounced check from CF.

But while I should have been enjoying my day off, an unexpected day of sunshine and temperatures warmer than they have been in weeks and weeks, what I felt was anxiety. I don't know why. A kind of displacement...

This is what I feel like when I don't have anything to do. In reality, I always have something to do, for example I thought about going to the hardware store and buying some paint to fix up my apartment. But after all the traveling and dealing with Molly, I felt too tired to do that. So I was caught in some weird place in the middle... where I was unable to "do, do, do."

So instead I had to just BE, and boy was THAT uncomfortable. I can't explain it. It was like the princess and the pea. Something irritating me, but so small I couldn't see it.

I see how I do that in my life, how I create such stress and struggle, how I work many jobs, to take up the space. How I don't know how to just sit. That's why I hate being sick. Because I have to lie down and do nothing. It makes me extremely anxious.

Often I will take sick days as mental health days, with a plan ahead in mind: visiting someone, extending a weekend trip, or doing some errands and shopping. I'm always DOING something. But I felt very limited in my doing yesterday since a) I was a little tired and b) I don't have a lot of money to spend and have to budget carefully.

Frank called and left a lot of messages, becoming more irritated with each one as I just let the phone ring. We usually talk on the phone a lot during the day. But I just felt tired. That's something else I've noticed too.

Several months ago, I remember having dinner with a friend who I hadn't seen in some time. He asked me how things were going with Frank, and my face immediately lit up. I couldn't hide my smile and my friend said, "Well, you don't have to say anymore!"

Now when people ask me, the first thing I want to do is sigh. I feel tired. Everything feels so complex. I feel dissatisfied and I don't know why.

Part of it is the same thing that happens in my life: I feel like I'm always DOING something within the relationship. Working hard to maintain the balance. Supporting Frank, building him up, countering his negativity. When he feels hopeless about us, I chime in with our good points. When he says he doesn't think we'll ever be able to live together, I point out that everything is possible and we just have to accept each other and not try to change each other.

My glass half-full has a leak.

I am tired of being the optimistic one, the reassuring one, the one with hope.

I once shared an apartment with a musician. He would often get together with other musicians to start bands. I remember he was in a partnership with another guitarist, who seemed very negative about their playing. The second guitarist said, well, we'll never really be as good as all those famous bands out there. My roommate broke off the relationship and the music partnership-- at first I couldn't really understand, but he explained to me, "Don't you see? He already thinks we're not going to make it. So a part of him has already decided not to try. I can't play with a person like that. I wanna go somewhere- and I believe I can do it."

Whether my ex-roommate becomes successful in the music business or not, I now understand his point: you have to partner up with someone that at least has the same dream of success.

If a part of Frank has already decided we're not going to make it, then he doesn't have the hunger or the commitment to make the relationship a success. And no matter how hard I work, my positivity can't make up for it. I thought it could. But I'm losing. It's worn me down.

I'm tired.

That's why the buzzards are circling. The ex called again last night, he's coming into town this weekend and wants to get together. Wouldn't you know that right while I am on the phone with the ex, Frank calls too-- the Wednesday night phone call that I've asked for for weeks, which he hasn't been able to give.

It figures.

Actually at one point I switched back and forth between them a couple of times before agreeing to see the ex this Saturday. I didn't tell either one that the other was on the phone.

I did tell Frank that the ex was coming into town. He immediately said, "So when are you seeing him?" Sometimes Frank gets jealous, but fights against admitting it, because he wants to appear to be the supportive boyfriend. Or it's part of his it-doesn't-matter-to-me-if-you-go-or-stay routine. I couldn't tell if he was jealous or not. There was an exuberance in his voice that either suggested he was excited about going out with his own friends, or that he was faking it. I don't know which. I told him we'd be having lunch. I guess there's a part of me that wished he would be jealous, which would show that he cared about losing me. After we hung up I felt that strangeness and anxiety again.

I just want to matter. But I want to matter to him. I'm not sure how much I matter to myself. If I did, I might not let things go on this way.

Love,

Duck

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