outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- desperate to hold I want to tell you that I am fine. I am fine. I wait for G in our lovely apartment, cleaned because her family descended upon me this past weekend, while I was alone and frazzled, with an emergency that was no one's fault. I had to take five, maybe ten minutes to bawl, then I formulated a plan of action and handled it all with a modicum of grace. I think. And thank something, the emergency cleared up and all was well. My deepest, guiltiest fear was that the emergency would evolve into a tragedy...and ruin my one summer vacation. Selfish girl. I think I'm healing. This has honestly been the saddest, loneliest, bone gnawingest summer that I can remember. Even during those dark days when my parents all but disowned me (twice), I can't remember ever feeling so undone, like my soul was stretching and fraying under the pressure. But like I said, I think I'm healing now. G's serial traveling without me is ending today, we are on vacation starting the day after tomorrow, and the summer is over and done immediately after that. I've sat with my friends and poured this out to them; I've sat with my dairy and poured this out to you; I've sat with my G and poured this out to her. I may need to seek counseling to get me through this next dissertation-completing semester, but I think I'm all right now. But sometimes actions have unintended consequences. Even actions taken in an effort to help heal oneself, to lessen the burden by distributing it across people, people who will bear it up so you can straighten your spine for a moment and get strong. When I shared with G my fear from my previous entry, that something would happen to me and leave her alone, her reaction was terrifying. For a long time - half an hour? and hour? more? - she was unreachable. Catatonic. As if what I'd described as a fear was happening, and she was experiencing it. As if, as I described in anguish to my friends, she had to cross an ocean of pain before she could come out on the other side. She sat and silently wept, motionless except for the thumb on one hand which repeatedly, unceasingly rubbed hard against her index finger. Digging a hole, it seemed. All I could do is sit with her, wipe her tears, hold her pressing hand in mine and cry with her. When her eyes were able to focus again, I knew she was coming out. But it was like she had gone to the other side of the world, or the other side of time, while she'd been gone. I should have known how hypersensitive she is to loss, but even so I don't know that I would have held my tongue. I needed to tell her because she's my one to share with. I needed to tell her to stop the anxiety in the night, when my left arm tingles and my heart pounds to make me think I'm having a heart attack, even though my heart's the healthiest its been in years (besides the palpitations). I think we're one of the most codependent couples I know, both so afraid of losing each other, both so afraid of being lost. Is that just a consequence of what happened this summer, or this our new reality? 2:37 p.m. - 2010-08-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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