In The Hall

45 minutes early for therapy, just the way I like it, I sat reading in the halls populated by hurried therapists, busted addicts and candy secretaries (who keep asking me why I am there, nervously).

My soundtrack to the relationship between competing versions of social theory was the loud and clear voice of a young woman explaing to someone (who spoke much more softly) how her new medication prevents her from sleeping from more than two hours at a time because of terrifying nightmares but she feels better overall. As my thoughts wandered to the practicality of the debates, I could hear the woman explain how, she could follow the 12 steps no problem when she was living at the rehab, but once she left, she lacked the support to remember all the steps.

Therapy today was surprisingly useful. I still do not have a referal but I did a lot of talking about the X and unbound myself to a great degree from the guilt and responsibility I feel to him and that relationship. I realized that I liken cutting him off to the way my mother cut my father off, and, in general, some sort of denial of mistakes and complete and utter failure as a person. The whole thing sentenced me to living with damaging people in attempt to be healthy and face my mistakes. My therapist recommended that, while I certainly don't have to decide immediately, I really consider just cutting X out of my life forever.

And the thought gave me great peace.

My other show that I live through is, I am ashamed to say, The Gilmore Girls. I am hesitant to admit it, not because I don't think the show is valuable and worthy of my conjoinment, but because of the potentially self-destrutiveness of the show:
It is a show about a really healthy and meaningful mother-daughter relationship.
So each show is a little bit escape and a little bit torture as I fall out of character and come back to the hall, the Habermas, the insomniac addict and my weaponized X.

The Cure That Kills

For my feeling like my heart is going to shatter my rib cage and
the vice around my sternum that stops my breath, I have sought remedy.
Finally, after a lifetime of enjoying these neat features of my day
that I believed were what helped everyone wake up and face their day.

The times over the past ten years when I knew it wasn't right and said
so were met with threatened silence so I changed my mind.

The thereapy has put me towards being free of all this....eventually.
In the MEAN time I have been put on a medication. Which worked really
well for one night.

But tonight about 39 minutes after I took it, instead of sleeping, I sit here,
on the edge of my bed, because my I can see my heart beat in my chest,
there are pains shooting up and down my neck which has stiffened well.

I am trying to slow my breathing.

I can live with it; I'm used to it; I can't say I am not disappointed.

The Come Back

I am now far away again. Not really back, though.

Kendall is completely fine.

I've done some baking.

I have a long list, of obligations.

My yard is a jungle, neighbourhood fodder.

But me and Jesus are plotting.

Coming home to somewhere I've never been.

On the other side of the world, with 12 hours lost and space now at a premium, I write with you asleep on your "bed."

It has just started to rain. So hard it is blotting out the view of this Frankenstein city.

I have not travelled this kind of culturally far since I was young. Since I was hungry for danger to augment my identity.

Now, I am not looking for adventure at all but a way to find peace. I can have it here because it is so far from most of my responsibilities and difficult decisions. Truly I have become a vacationer because my everyday, at home, presents enough danger.

Travelling here was easy; much easier than I ever hoped for. I slept and was comfortable and entertained by a porn memoir with pieces of me in it. Seeing you was the easiest of all.

The world works us so hard it is of course a comfort and delight to reach eachother because it is like coming home. Only not what I have made my homes into (strict cylces of cleaning regimens, unbreakable routines and continuation of old cycles) but something safer and much more soothing.