Figuring it out

My therapist asked me this question last week:

“Do you think you could have some unspoken rule that sex and feelings can’t exist in the same place at the same time? It’s ok if you don’t even know, but maybe try and think about it a bit.”
This post is going to go all over the place in lots of directions that to me currently feel unrelated. But maybe they are deep down. I dont know yet. 
I texted sam “i dont even have a totally valid reason for why i still do it anymore” (referring to purging)

I tried to analyze myself while i was doing it. I think i like that relaxed feeling i get at the end. I think i do it for that mostly. Feeling empty and calm afterwards is nice. Cleansing. I’m sure there could be healthier ways to achieve it but that’s what i have right now that works. 

I want to pick up running but im nervous about it. Maybe even scared. I think maybe because I don’t fully believe i could do it. Not like it’s actually possible to fail at running but i dont know. I’m still nervous. And about dumb parts too. Like about people on the street judging me. Which why would they even do that. And why does their opinion matter anyway. And if they’re judging me doesnt that just make them ridiculous? 

I’m also nervous about my lung. Running would force me to feel the only reminder of my disease. And i dont know how much is good to “push through the pain”. You’re supposed to stop when it hurts but I don’t know if that rule still applies to this? 

There’s a lookout about six blocks from my sisters house. I could easily run/walk there every morning if i wanted to once i moved in. Get up early. See the sunrise every morning. I think i can see myself doing that.

Housesitting for emily while shes been gone on business this summer has got me kind of freaked out about moving in in three weeks. I don’t know how i can handle it in reality. We just have different standards for living. She’s used to and ok with the mess that comes with three dogs and a cat in a two bed two bath house. I’m not. I don’t really want to be “used to it”. I have higher standards for cleanlieness.

I’ll be honest i made myself vomit before writing this post and im starting to shake from the empty. I’m having trouble typing and want to get more food but i dont think i will. I almost have gained 10 pounds this summer because i havent really been restricting or puking until this week. Which i think is because ive been stressed out about emilys house. And living here. 

I dont know how much responsibility she expects me to take for the animals. I don’t really want to take any. I mean i love them but at the end of the day they aren’t mine. And i just. I’m not a person who can handle taking care of other living creatures shit. I find feeding them a hassle and letting them out and having to pay attention to them when they want me to. I’m not an ideal pet owner. At all.

And i want to be able to have a senior year. And that means making that 1 hour roundtrip drive back to my hometown on a semi regular basis. And not worring about being home in time to feed dogs because emily is also out doing something that night.

I guess im just worried because i dont completely know what it is she’s expecting from me. And we haven’t had to really communicate like this before so I’m scared because even though i KNOW she’s different, she still was raised in the same family i was and im worried that trying to talk to her could be the same. (I have serious faith deep down it would be fine but im stilk worried, ya know?)

And i was rewatching gossip girl today and the episode where Serena and Dan have sex for the first time kinda got to me and got me thinking about what my therapist asked because of how serena tells dan “I’m just scared… because no guy has ever looked at me the way you just did”

And i know exactly what she’s talking about. And i dont know if i have that rule that i cant have sex and have feelings. I think the idea of that freaks me out. I think imagining that makes me nervous.

I think what i want at the end of the day is to have someone steady to come home to but still be allowed to mess around on the side and have fun with other people. I think that’s my ideal scenario. But i dont know exactly where or how to find a person who could check all my boxes like that. 

And sam and i talked the other day about if we “think we’re just prolonging the inevitable [us dating]?” Becuase our relationship is pretty much exactly what I’d want from a true partner but i dont want to date him. Because im not in that mindset of serious relationship yet. And because i dont know that that attraction really exists towards him. He said he figured we could be. That maybe some day twenty years down the line if we were still close something could happen, but he agreed that right now that… spark i guess? Just isn’t there. He said he figured our relationship was just pure companionship, referring to the triangle of relationships, and how we have the foundations of the triangle but not the tip. 

And my friend savanna i feel so comfortable around. And we kiss each other on a regular basis and we call each other our girlfriends and hold hands and cuddle sometimes and say that were in love with each other while at the same time messing around with guys and telling each other all about it and i really like that. And it’s probably about a third joking and two thirds serious, if not more. And sometimes i wonder about what if we were really actually like that? What if we were in a commited lesbian relationship and still fooled around with others on the side? It doesn’t really sound all that bad. Coming home to that beautiful girl and getting to lay in bed with her and look at her and make her smile? Hold her hand? Kiss her? It sounds lovely. 

But the having sex aspect of that kind of weirds me out. I think mostly because im worried about things getting ruined. And also i dont know that thats what she wants (probably a good sign i should just buck up and ask, eh?)

Sex has only ever ruined my relationships with the people. I guess maybe this is just another narrative i have to try and rewrite, cuz so far I’d say I’ve done pretty good with the whole “guys only ever want me for sex” trope. But maybe i just also haven’t met the right person yet. I don’t know.

There’s lots I don’t know about yet. That’s ok. And probably also the way it should be. I’ll get it figured out. I’m just a bit stressed and lonely right now i guess.

Chat later.

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I took the maximum number of laxitive suggested. I feel sick. My stomach feels hot and i feel clamy and like i could puke. 

I gained four pounds this week from being bloated and on my period and not being again to handle my cravings.

All i eat when i do eat is total crap. Junk. Chocolate. Hot dogs (because thats the only food we have in the house). Cheese. 

Thats basically it. But this week i added doughnut holes and mac and cheese because my cramps were so bad i couldnt walk and i woke up at 2am.

I might be subconsciously avoiding my therapist. 

Its scary thinking about working on this. About changing my habits. Yeah i dont like my current methods but its all i have. Its all ive ever had really. And i dont know how to change or get better or what it looks like or if i even can.

And chole and her boyfriend just think im the stereotypical angsty teen whos angry for no reason. He isnt even a part of this family and he gets to quip in with the sardonic comments about how i “look too happy”

I dont know. Its one thing for them to not protect me from each other, but letting an outsider in on it… 

it just doesn’t help anything. It just makes me feel even more of the misfit than i normally do. I know i have a lot of myself to blame for that but he hasn’t even been around a year and its like im the one who should be the stranger in my own house. At Christmas and still today. He fits better than me. 

Ive been secretly hoping maybe i get an ulcer or something. Something to force me to work on my problems for real. But i dont know. 

It gets lonely. I love writing but talking into this virtual notebook gets lonely sometimes. Like right now. I feel like a deflated balloon most of the time.

Papa.

Can we ever truly move on? Is living on in memory the same as living?

I went to see my Papa’s grave today. I wondered if seeing the place he lays now and has laid for nearly 16 years would make it feel more real. Ever since i was little it has felt as though he would walk through the front door at any moment, finally back from some long vacation with arms wide open ready to pick me up and twirl me around.

I have no memories of him. He was gone two months after i turned 2.

I have photos of him, arms around me and loving eyes looking on me. But no real memory of him lives on in my mind. My whole life everyone has spoken of him. As if he was still here, as if he was never really gone. My grandma speaks of him with fondess and regret. Regret of the time with him wasted, regret for the place our family is in now, regret for how soon he was taken. She speaks of his integrity, his accomplishment, his love, his selflessness, and his good hugs. My father speaks of his shortcomings. The flaws that made him human. He talks about how he worked constantly, rarely saw him or seemed to take interest in him. He talks of how he felt unloved by him.

My uncle speaks of his accomplishment. How he revolutionized the supermarket business, turned a failing company into a fourtune 500 in the 11 years he worked as President.

My sister wonders if it was a secret blessing how he was taken so soon. She questions how well he would have handled his grandchildren straying from the church, how he may have handled us growing into our persons; me relatively immodest, Emily divorced and not looking to remarry, Chloe refusing to go to school.

I wonder what he was like. I wonder who he was, really. In his head, how did he see himself? What inner demons did he wrestle with? Would he have been as resistent to change as Emily feels he would be? Would he have been most fond of me? Or would i have been one of the most disappointing if he knew the way I thought of things; of religion, of modesty, of politics. I wonder how much more tempered my Grandma would be if he were here. I wonder if he would be able to to soften her victim complex and her narcissistic tendancies. I wonder. I wonder. I wonder.

It feels as though ive searched for him most of my life. Ive looked for parts of him in me. I have his eyes apprently. Im sure there are traits of his that live on in me. But i dont know for sure which they are.

True to form, we had to look for his grave. We had to wander and look over and over for it. I picked up fallen pots of flowers and placed them gently back upright as i found them. Finally we went to the front office to ask for where he was. And then we drove back to a place we had already looked and had to search around again.

And we found him. And i stood over his plaque and our family named spelled out in large letters on the bronze plate and looked at his name written above in smaller script.

James

1938-2001

A man with integrity who walked humbly with his God.

I looked at it. I read it. I took my shoes off and felt the grass above him between my toes as the breeze picked up and touseled my hair and picked up little leaves and sent them twilring through the air. I sat gently down above him as the clouds moved over and away from the sun with the breeze.

The ground had never felt so sturdy or so firm under me. I picked at the blades of grass and left some pieces of my hair beside the plaque. I imagined the breeze was his arms wrapped around me, hands messing up my hair playfully. I pictured him with me, soft, wrinkled hands on mine. I kissed my fingered and placed them gently on his grave.

“Hi, Papa.”

I murmed quietly. Grammy walked back over and i stood up slowly and put my shoes back on. We walked slowly back toward the car and i wrapped my arm around her waist and she wrapped hers around mine.

“I’m sorry you didnt get to know him, Naomi. And i just hate thinking about all the wasted time.” I leaned my head against hers and kissed her cheek.

I walked around the car and the wind blew gently by again and carried the words “Bye Papa,” gently from my lips before i got in. Grammy was looking at an old photo of me and telling me how she sent it to her sister and was telling her how well i could dress myself.


How quickly time moves forward.

Papa is gone. I dont know if it will ever feel real to me. If he will ever feel real to me. I wonder if he can ever truly be gone until his myth is laid to rest too. I wonder. I wonder. I wonder.

I didnt get to meet you papa. But my heartĀ sings for you. My one wish in life is to have met you. I dont know if there will ever be a day i can stop searching for you.

journal entry # who knows

i feel like i don’t fit here. at the dinner table, in this house. There’s a place set for me, a room upstairs for me but it doesn’t feel like I fit here.

sometimes i don’t even feel like i fit with Emily. sometimes I don’t feel like I fit anywhere. and it just hurts. the holidays opens up such a big gap in me. one that i can usually stuff full of other things and people. but you’re supposed to be with your family during the holidays, so i can’t escape it. i can’t just hide from it. even though these people really don’t feel like my family.

i felt like some kind of caged animal tonight.

“gather round, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! it’s the angsty-for-no-reason teen!!! if you can get her to crack her frosty exterior you win 20 tickets!”

i’m not some stupid fucking show.

i’m not just some challenge for you to win and crack.

i’m an actual human having a really hard time finding out how she fits into this “happy family” picture when there are two extra people here.

i’m the odd one out. emily has her boyfriend. chloe has her boyfriend. who do i have now?

it used to be emily but now it’s no one. i have no one.

it’s so small and so stupid but it started with emily not wanting to wrap my presents with me. and we’ve usually done that every year as an excuse to be just ourselves and she didn’t do it this year because “i’m a horrible wrapper!” but i know it was just because she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

and chloe’s boyfriend is constantly at the house. staying the night and taking up space. and he fits better than i do. they both do. how can they both fit better than me when i’ve been here 17 years?? when theyve only both just showed up three months ago??

and what makes it ok for them to think they know whats going on in my head? for chloe’s boyfriend to say “are all teenagers this angry? cuz my brother is too.”

what makes it ok for emily’s boyfriend to insist on getting a photo with me even though i’m clearly not interested? what about doing that is going to make me feel less like the side show attraction who’s apparently just mad and angsty for no reason? who’s apparently just mad because she’s just a teenager? who will supposedly just grow out of this in a few years?

i’m not interested in hearing your stupid sex related jokes that you make because our mom likes them or because you started a dumb competition to make each other blush as much as possible. I’m not interested in watching you be all over each other. i’m not interested in watching strangers get more genuine love, affection, and attention than i ever have in this house. i’m sorry but that just doesn’t sound like a fun thing for me to participate in.

it just hurts. and it sucks feeling like i’m falling back to where i was three years ago. and it sucks feeling like i don’t fit anywhere. it sucks feeling like i don’t have a real family. it sucks coming home to a house that’s so quiet and full of strangers. and it sucks. it just fucking sucks. and i’m so so tired of feeling this way.

i’m tired of having sad christmases. i’m tired of not being happy.

 

The Wrong Puzzle Piece

it feels like someone opened up a puzzle box,

and somehow my piece wandered into this picture.

and now here we are,

smashing and jamming and cramming;

trying so hard to fit me where i can’t.

and everyone tells me “but the picture is so much prettier when you’re in it!”

but i don’t understand how it can be so pretty,

when all it does is hurt.

is christmas over yet? i’d really like for it to be done.