BadMormon

Depression can’t Stand in the Face of too much to do

Luckily between putting on a week of shows (and if you haven’t checked out the Frigid Festival NYC you should, really great shows in it, including ours – No Traveler) there hasn’t been great swathes of time to feel sad and sorry. Too much to do, for others, for myself. I have a show next month!

ok, so i meant to write a lot more but between food, memorizing, music picking, shower, light (as in not really) housework and moping didn’t get there. Oh well.

Read a book to stay awake, and it rips my mind away…

YouTube - Blind Melon – No Rain .

Layered Sound and an Opera about Nixon

YouTube - Nixon In China (Opera): Act I Scene 3 .

AAARRRRGGGG

Lost a check, an important check. The check that would have fed me and my son this week. Oh we have food, the canned items and dried peas and things hidden in the back you buy on a whim and never get around to making, like a bag of satay vermicilli. Just not the normal yummy food we’re use to conveniently picking up at the corner store. Feb is a hard month and this feb is a little worse. I usually end up being late with rent cause I spend the money on the essentials first and while I, in general, make enough to just cover everything it can be hard to get $1,300 together in one bank account at a time to write the check.

I just cancelled my internet service even. There’s an open one in my apt floating and often I am elsewhere stealing anyway. My emails addys are through other folks. Don’t have tv of any sort. Have two teeth that are in the root canal zone and really could use a computer that can run the lastest system.

And I’m afraid things are going to get worse. Apple opened up this pro-care training thing for CHEAP, have several stores and the computers, however much people are never happy, aren’t breaking as much, aren’t as hard to set up, aren’t scaring the crap out of the next generation – all things my freelancing helped for people.

The companies I work for are also having problems with money and downsizing and simply not having the same workload or upgrade paths so my services are not as required either.

On top of everything else I’m stressed about work and money, still, again, forever. And this week, with the lost check and feb and shows and the loss, grief, loss I am feeling, well, at least I’m not eating much these days. I look fabulous.

I had 5 clients contact me this week and before I could get back to them they fixed their own problems. We’re talking within 5 min of the contact.

sigh.

I’ve been through lean times before – .com bust, 9/11, but I just don’t want to do it again.

Time to go to a rehearsal about a show that is a comedy about suicide!

Seriously, do me, penny, (a)muse collective a favor: at least see the show. Even if I have no money and fail miserably in my professional life at least the art can be appreciated.

Found out what’s wrong with me

Planer Fasciitis This is a pain in my foot, heel/arch area, right foot, that has been going on for a few months now. I ignored it at first, tried to get new shoes, looked for a way to stay off it (impossible – my entire life is running from one part of nyc to the next several times a day, if I’m makin money.)

Basically I, the nonest-athlete of my family, has an athletic injury. Over used, under cared for. Yeah that’s about right.

Life goes on aka coping techniques

The boy came home last night. He had been gone for the weekend for a boy scout weekend, hadn’t seen him since the sunday before and the phone call at noon saying he was back in town and heading home was lovely.

Having him here is good for me as well as highlights some of the anxiety/pain/grief?

He’s a good kid too. While on the phone I explained if he came home it would mean he had to help me clean up the pig sty that I was calling the apartment. That I had been out of the house and sick all week and it was atrocious. He asked if he stayed at his dad’s would i wait to clean until tomorrow? I said no, it’s making me crazy.

“Oh, I’ll come help you then.”

Awwwwwwwwww and he did.

Let himself into the apartment, woke me from my nap, found the cold pills, brought me water and a pill to wake me up (sudafed,) talked, then went to store for the dinner items of chicken soup and garlic bread.

Right now he’s sitting at the computer earning some video game privileges by typing 300 words on why he needs to bring his text books to my house as well.

Cleaned things up without nagging.

Hugged a lot.

Teased him by calling him my valentine over and over in sappy mom voice. He ‘loves’ that.

The hard part is how much I love him. As I watch his half-manly build typing at the computer with bad music playing and his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration I feel it in my gut, the desire to have someone to punch in the arm, nod my head at my child to make them look and both of us proud and loving and smiling wide at the boy’s greatness. And later we take it out on each other. Love = lust and security.

I have these clients who are older single women. Women at 66 still looking for their true love, women who’ve mentioned being single for 20 years, women with cats and dogs and careers and not unhappy but single, single, single.

Single.

It’s not that I don’t like it, being single, I do actually. Get much more done when I haven’t got to worry about another’s emotional state or juggling schedules or aching for them to make an effort towards me. But there’s a lot of stuff I have to get over now. Like the idea that single will change. That I will meet someone who wants this weird conglomeration of a life I’ve created, will join it to do art, work, play, and strange hours along with parenthood.

Grieving the loss of a taken-for-granted future on top of everything else. I always figured at some point I would meet the person, that we would have a child, one I can raise daily and share with the love of my life. A baby that has our features and joy.

Not going to happen now. The most fulfilling role of my life is mom. It’s who I’ve been even before I was grown, the bossy girl left in charge of the room. And I’m so very glad I have my son. He’s the reason I wanted another, I love him so very much I can only see another as a blessing, joy, love, a lifetime of worth it. But I can’t ever bring another child into this world without stability. I was young and didn’t know what I was doing with the first one but I get how hard it is, the support that needs to be in place, the money, etc.

Even if I met the mythical mr. right tomorrow it will be months before I’m anywhere near trying something again (If I ever do) and years before I will trust someone to the point of building a life and by then, well, lets just say reproduction gets iffy early in my lineage.

All that to say I have to let these things go, a normal stage of human development I’m guessing, but I can’t live on the pipe dream of true forever love sold to me in childhood.

Every time I bring up my bah humbug survivalist strategy of “why should I want a guy?” I get the soothing answers, and sad sighs for my bitter “I DON’T NEED ONE!” A society reinforcing that somehow together is the thing to want.

I have been as alone in a relationship as I have been out of one. When things are bad IN one it’s worse than out because at least OUT of one it’s only me I have to deal with. I’m not trying to figure out how to get what I need from someone who can’t give it. Only me. When did this become the default negative?

Grieving for giving up the disney happily ever after dream. Can not see myself being the kind of person anymore that can make this crap work. I’m not the girl they all want with the soft ways, or understanding, or lack of rage, or make up, or heels, or boots, or pandering compliments, or tact, or whatever it is their egos need for bonding. The me I’ve always been is not one who has any idea how to fit with another and lord knows the men I’ve met and dated have never bothered to figure out how to fit into my life. Never was an option except for the 10 days of drunk fantasy talk with most recent ex. The reality of meeting the kid and seeing my real life ended that for him, though I still had/have to cope with the loss of what I wanted so badly for so long. Love, home, life with the guy who adores me back. It’s such a feeling of betrayal. That life itself has betrayed me.

Yep, all that is wrapped up in the love and pride I have watching my son struggle with making his run-on sentence of 300 words into paragraphs and adding periods for clarity.

With the boy here though I have something else to think about, a person who needs to eat so dishes need to be done, rent must be paid so work has to be booked, adulthood must not seem to awful so a smile is on my face. And frankly, with him here, it is a sincere one.

Curl Up

Lying in bed in the dark; fetal position on my right side; how I always go to sleep, just laying there. so tired, so very bodily exhausted but sleep doesn’t come. I’m not sad. I’m not angry. My brain pays attention to the buzz of my skin.

I’m numb when alone.

I make myself eat, usually chips because they take no effort. Open a bag so the artificial flavoring works it’s addictive magic, crackers and cheese, half a bagel with veggie cream cheese, save the other half for later cause it is simply too difficult to keep swallowing.

It’s not quite crippling. It comes and goes. If I am around people I am better. If I have some one else to concentrate on caring for, even better. That I know how to do. That does not concern me and my life and my emotions. It rewards with gratitude and seeing another human being feel better. I am distracted from how hollow I feel in the middle.

Drinking helps some. Not big tumblers of booze, actually drinking less than I have in months, the actions needed to get anything in my body have slowed. Think of drink, eh, maybe, sit, move, eh, glasses dirty, sit, think of drink…etc. Repeat for any and all actions taken alone.

A drink helps a little. I can cry some then. They are pity me tears that I allow for a few minutes and then can’t stand it anymore. I know it doesn’t matter. Life doesn’t promise you true love or help or solid people or a job or rent or a good baby daddy or a stress free parenthood or anything working out in any way whatsoever. Or life itself.

I understand those who give up.

Those who sit in chairs in the empty night, no motion. Who hide difficulties from the world and then stop.doing.anything.

It’s the numbness that creeps in. Takes over. Makes you a difficult conversation partner, disconnected at job interviews, slightly alien in your approach to others.

There’s no suicide ideation. That would require more emotion, more despair. Life isn’t impossible, simply dry. The motions continue. The masks of a lifetime are there to get you in and out of a day. There are a few places where you relax and breath and feel a little.

I assume I’ll be over it someday. It seems to happen for people. Or they keep going anyway.

For now I curl up into nothing.

One More Thought

Things go banging around my skull and until I find a way to get it out I can’t cope so good. Don’t get me wrong 39 years on planet Fuck Me Over has given me the ability to get through my craziest moments, because I HAVE to, but to really function at my highest motion level of AWESOMENESS I have to spill my guts somewhere, somehow.

The thoughts can take a while to roll into the ball of emotional vomit forcing it’s way out though. They keep coming back, nagging me to think about it again and insisting I explain somewhere what goes on in the very center of me.

So a few weeks ago the ex was very drunk. We have been feeling kindly towards each other after the last bout of fighting and the next round hadn’t happened yet. He was outside thinking about another friend of ours who is very sick. The emotional truth of losing someone in your life who matters hit him in his gut. He stood leaning against a door weeping at the idea of it, at the pain that flared with knowing someone he cared about could die, imagining that death, that loss. His head hung down in that bubble of drunken narcissism where the outside world doesn’t even exist except as props to the pain in your own mind.

We all gathered around him. Drunk and crying we know about. I stood and held his arm. He looked up at me, again with those brimming blue eyes and said “How do you do it? I’ve never lost anyone close to me. How do you do it?”

I had no answer, no one had an answer really, those of us who had lost immediate family murmured something about you just do it, and as he ducked his head back down, still crying folks slipped back inside unable to touch him through his bubble of self. I stayed, of course, they left him to me knowing I would do what ever was needed.

And as it continued too long for the imaginary death of a sick friend, a drunken cry becoming self-sustaining, I murmured, “But you have to put it away for now. Time to put it away and go inside.” And he immediately sniffed and breathed and broke the sobs in half and said “yeah.”

“It’s easier when you’re not so drunk too.”

Again his affable self appeared and he smiled and snorted a little, “you’re right.” And he headed into the door for the bathroom, fell down a bit as I caught him enough to keep it from hurting and that was that. Our moment done. I wonder if he remembers it.

I didn’t get the significance of what I said to him though probably until this morning. That moment has played itself out in my head over and over and this morning I figured out why.

“You have to put it away for now.”

Now I’m no poster child for grief recovery, mostly the opposite. I mean the question he asked has HAUNTED me. How do I live with it? How do I live with any of it? As horribly as the thought of death hurt that man he can’t imagine how deep the reality it. How do I live with it? I just do. Every damn day of my life there is a place in me that feels that bad, that misses my dad so much, that is 11 and still waiting for him to walk in the door after work because he always has for your entire life. But to function you put it away.

You work out your psyche hideyholes. Some are healthier than others. You tell yourself you will think about it tomorrow. You live your life knowing death is shadowing you and make your choices accordingly, towards safety or risk depending on personality. If you don’t realize you’ve simply slapped some cheap plaster over the gaping wound you tend to run around looking for things to keep stuffing in there, to block up the whistling holes on the edges and that poke through the middle, if you’re lucky enough to have the plaster in the first place.

You just put it away and laugh at something and feel guilty later and keep going and time makes it easier to forget what’s in that closet and self honesty makes it easier to negotiate the mini-pits. If you are managing the caging of the grief you know it’s gonna come out sometimes, you will spend weeks on your couch if needed, you can let the pain flow for a while and then, when you realize it’s settled back down once again you put it away. Eat some ice cream. Decide how to leave a mark on this world once you’re gone. Remember to live because otherwise death is pointless.

I am a martyr

I don’t want to be but damn it I’ve taken on the world and I have to bitch on my blog to get it done.

Below gaze upon all the things that make me a saint! I will do them all I promise!

First, simple promotional inserts for FRIGID FESTIVAL programs. We are cross promoting with a friend so if you see one show you get a couple bucks off the other show.

A website that ties in with the show for the hosting theater group, will do big reveal later.

Newsletter that I had to get promo shots for my own show done and need to add a couple little things and mail that out tonight – via la email thank god. Have to make sure I only do so many a night or I end up getting cut off by my hosting company. Oh and still have to add emails, remove emails and tidy up etc before sending.

MY SHOW!!! I AM STILL TRYING TO WRITE MY SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!

have I mentioned regular work? I book, support, research several clients a day right now. Almost enough money to live on and something I end up doing at random times all day long.

Stage Manage No Traveler – please note glorious image in the news column. I did the photoshop on that:) LOOK AT THAT AMAZING SHADOW!!! but while we’re at the part where the show is very together, already had preview adn now doing the stay in the game tidy it up rehearsals before the big run of it. OF course there is always several small things that come up after every rehearsal that requires dealing.

need to write form letter for press follow up as well as personalize for the folks we really admire and want to come. (Some of this is going to be in marathon session on monday.)

what else?

Parenting? after a friday afternoon of playing find that child and boy did mom’s hair get even grayer? i now get the fun of a weekend with him. Which is great but there are long bouts of “do your homework” and others of cuddle and telling me of his heartaches (father and the attention that doesn’t exist there) adn then food, cleaning etc.

Have I mentioned his mid-winter break coming up? The entire week before the show opens? How about the bartending til 4am on sunday nights job I took to make ends meet, sorta, or at least pay for food. (Odessa Bar, Ave A, need $100 bucks in til every sunday to not get fired apparently. HAHAHHAaa in feb, on a sunday, in a bar that has no reputation for being a cool hangout. At least not for the people with money. Just doing it until it goes the way of all crappy service jobs and I get to scream, “I’m not fired! I QUIT!” and flounce out.)

In this midwinter break is also an open call audition for a “major feature film” my son is going to go on so that will be fun. He’s gonna be hyped for a month and my friend is going to give him a quick coaching for it. I’m sure nothing will come of it but how fun to be a teenager in new york and be able to try on these sort of things.

OH damn it! Why do I feel like i’m forgetting something? did I mention learning rudimentary hacktastic php for the website? I bet someone knows what I mean…

so why the added pressure of BLOGGIN ABOUt IT?!!!

cause I think I just made my to-do list. Or cleared out the bitching so I can get work done. Or procrastinated one more day. Or…
who the fuck cares? It’s a blog.

janis – soothes the savage beast

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_5ekvz0FbM