Thursday, February 18, 2010

A Post From A Month Ago: Last Night Was A Doozy

I wrote this last month after a particularly shite evening. I am posting it now, because a bit of time has passed and I have been mulling over the traits of various women in my family and in my life. How we each approach and deal with hardships and bad news. This is most recently felt and observed because my grandmother passed away and I am seeing the reactions and fallout. I have blogged about her before here. Being strong and being sad and letting tears fall or not fall is certainly on my mind. So, here is what I wrote for Last Night Was A Doozy:

And it is all Grand Torino's fault.

So I sometimes make a pact with myself not to cry about things for certain amount of time. Once in college I said three months with no tears. Four dry months went by. Recently I made an agreement to be very, very, very strong and to not give in to my tears too often, even as my heart broke and my marriage crumbled. Movies and happy tears have been excused from this, but the real tears... the drops that don't just mist, but fall; the swollen eyes and blotchy-chest tears I refused to let out. Maybe a stray one spilled for the briefest of moments or that one time I drank too much and let loose the existential angst waterworks, but day to day I. Do. Not. Cry.

It has been important to me to demonstrate how in control I am. When everything around me swirls in confusing, angry patterns I can have say over my reaction. Years ago the control manifested in the ways I have mentioned before. The self-abuse was key and allowed me to control simple things, even if it ended up hurting quite badly. But now that I treat myself nicely and so often am found smiling, I chose to put the reins on my tears.

I am getting a divorce and until tonight I have not truly cried real, big, painful, unlimited tears. Even now they pool in my eyes and I swipe them away. Annoyed. Sad. Soft underbelly bullshit.

Someone asked me tonight if moving out of AM and my shared home is going to be an emotional thing for me and I said "no, not at all. I closed my heart off long ago and I am ready to leave." I really believed myself when I first said it, but now a few hours later... I am taking on the weight of what it means.

Five minutes ago I was standing in my bathroom, tears streaming saying over and over "You failed. You failed at marriage, Anna. You are a failure." I let myself feel it very deeply and for the smallest glimpse of time I thought of self-injury. It is still there, after all this work and time. Ten seconds later I was back to pep-talk mode and believing that yes, I can do this and yes, it will be okay, etc.

It all started with Clint Eastwood and the movie "Grand Torino". I watched it tonight in bed with the covers up to my armpits and Kiki Dee attempting to snuggle my head. I misted over for the movie, but it triggered the tears that only real life knows and can summon. The cute white cat that every night tries to fall asleep on my pillow and next to my face will no longer be in my life. The boxes that have to be packed loom before me. The man I thought I was going to be with forever, snores in the back room as he has for months on end now, as I lay alone. Everything is changing. Nothing is as I thought it would be. And FUCK, IT HURTS.

So I cried. Sober, ocean filling tears. I let them be accurate and I let go of the pretend control I have over the emotions of something this sad. It deserves tears. I don't want to cry much more (though I am sure I will at some point) and think I might have purged something very deep in me so that perhaps the next time I cry it will be less. But I don't really know.
I know I am not a failure. I realize I am the best version of me I've ever known to date. I also know that honoring the pain and heartbreak of this decision is not weak or a loss of control. It just makes my eyes hurt and my lids to be awfully puffy the next day. That I can handle.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Tardy For The Party

I don't actually like that phrase, "tardy for the party." In fact I think I might hate it. Why would I use it then, I suppose would be the natural progression of my hypothetical conversation I have with my audience. Well, I am terribly glad you asked! (In my vivid imagination you are holding a small notepad to record my response. But hey, guess what? You don't need to jot it down, because I am WRITING IT ALL DOWN HERE, ON THIS BLOG. Internet/wackadoodle mind of Stoleyourprozac garners another win!) Sometimes, I use phrasiology that grates on me and others in an attempt to illuminate my strong sense of irony and humor. SEE, I AM FUNNY AND LOVABLE.

It is going to be a ALL CAPS kind of post, so just get used to it now. NOW.

The party for which I am tardy for is Valentine's Day. This wasn't one I was particularly pumped about say... a month or five ago? A heart that breaks slowly and having to reestablish an identity free of marriage will do that to a person. Turns out, the name or date of a day doesn't really mean shit; however, I still love... love. Dammit, I do. I see all these dear friends of mine planning weddings, writing love songs, making babies, celebrating years upon years... and I like it. I might be a bit shattered and just managing to keep my own heart together with a somewhat shredded fishing net, a wire tie from a bag of bread, and the elastic band from a fake pirate eye patch, but it works okay. I still pump blood and maybe, just maybe am able to enjoy glimmers of new affection.

Wait, did I just go a paragraph without caps-lock on? I AM THE FLIGHTIEST BITCH WHEN WRITING SOMETIMES, SERIOUSLY. Okay, I think we are better now.

So I have some Valentine related pictures to share. Let's bring them on stage now, shall we? (THE ANSWER IS YES.)

Titled "Ventricle Vessel" you can find it here at Tsunami Glass Works (Um, yeah, I just linked it. That is of course the extent of my linkage today likely, but I keep track of the few blogger brownie points I accumulate. ALL FOUR OF THEM.) (Hmm, caps-lock is even starting to annoy me now... perhaps a respite is in order. OR NOT! Aha!)

(Please keep reading my blog, even though I am annoying and plagued with limited desire to harbor any sense of self-control.)
I actually sent this as the body of an email to someone. What? Said person is very much fine. It was merely an observation of fact.

Okay, so the romantic in me would love to set this up, make a card indicating a significant other should visit its location (e.g. "Your presence is requested on the corner of 6th and St. Helens Ave at 7pm on the 14th of February") or create a treasure hunt for the person I care for to find among other hidden-in-plain-sight symbols of affection.

The moral of this story is simple really. A belief in love endures, even when the way I expect it to manifest changes dramatically. I haven't a clue if romantic love is near or far for me, but I certainly believe it exists and that alone makes me hopeful and happy.

Also, someone brought me flowers, and I totally swooned. I AM AN EASY SWOON, OKAY? It felt wonderful though.

Tulips and roses and orchids, oh my! (Yes, this a picture I took of them.)

I wish you a (tardy) day, month, life of love from friends, family, and if you want it, from someone special. You certainly all deserve the happiness you crave or have already found, built, and nurtured. To all of us:

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Playing House

I have a new apartment and it is all mine and I love it. I started moving on Monday and am completely done as of yesterday. My cat is slightly unsure of it all and has spent much time under the bed or weaving in-between my ankles, never not in physical contact as I walk around straightening things.

Here is a sneak-peak blurry picture I took yesterday. These are the apartment's first flowers. A dear friend brought them by and they just look so happy sitting there. Love them.

So, once I get a bit more organized, etc I will also get back to blogging more often again I hope. Give me a few more days to lure my cat out from under the bed, cook my first real meal, and dance around in my underpants a few more times, singing "I did it! I did it!"

Lastly, thank you for the support that many of you have provided, whether it be through comments on this here site, private emails, calls... It has made this transition immeasurably easier and more hopeful than it might have been.