Hardly. Rest is something that didn’t come my way today. And I can’t figure out if I’ve intentionally filled my day with activities or if that is the way life dealt my hand today, this gray turned sunny Sunday, the final day of rest in May 2009. The morning started fairly early, around 8am, when I woke, took Saucy and The Big Dog out for a poo, and to grab Duncan’s keys from my car so that I may steal some coffee grinds from his home. Today is the day I re-up on my lovely farmers market products, so this morning, fresh out of my Guatemalan blend, I partook of his stash knowing he wouldn’t mind. I made a few cups in the press and patiently awaited Angels arrival. Now, Angel is always late, and normally this drives me insane, but his morning, I just couldn’t be bothered. Bigger things on my mind.
She came and we sat and drank the strong brew, steam floating from our cups while I read her the post about Bleeze, tears coming to my eyes because the truth of it all is that I just don’t know what to do. I feel completely lost and powerless in the situation, and I guess that’s part of completing my first step, although I technically haven’t even started it (when it comes to AA). After coffee, and a little cleaning up of the kitchen, we went down to the farmers market, my Sunday favorite, and I picked up more tuberose, acapulco lily’s, honeycomb (yes still in honeycomb form straight from the bee’s casa), some fresh basil, and these delicious little coconut cakes that come in the shape of half domes and taste like heaven. She bought so much cheese I felt constipated just thinking about it, along with honeycomb, honey sticks, and a few other little fabulous things you only find on the Sunday fun day street fair in my hood. We mashed back to my house to deposit the goods, and do our best to make it to the afternoon meeting I’ve started frequenting to meet with the homie E-Deezy. We ran a little late meeting him, and E-Deezy wasn’t angry, which is good because I hate being late. Especially for friends, and especially especially for meetings.
The speaker today was amazing. A man with 23 years sobriety, who claims that he has no triggers for the drink. Being alive makes him want to drink. And that is something I can relate to. I want a drink when things are going good, when things are going bad, when I’m bored, or at the beach. I’ll take a drink on a plane, a train, and when in Vegas, an automobile. I’ll drink fruity things in Hawaii, and Heineken in Amsterdam. Sangria in Spain or sake in Japan. It doesn’t matter….I like to drink. He presented an excellent analogy, between his allergy to Ivory Soap, and his allergy to booze, saying he gets a terrible rash when he uses the soap, so at one point in his life, even though it was his families soap, and everybody in the family still used it, he no longer could, because he just didn’t want that damn rash. His allergy to alcohol was/is the same, but for some reason, he just didn’t care about the terrible effects from alcohol. And that’s because it’s a perfect disease that doesn’t need a drop to progress. He spoke brilliantly, and at the end I shook his hand and thanked him for coming, watching the tears well up in his eyes as he looked out upon the line of grateful alcoholics behind me, and then down to the tears in my own thankful eyes. I can only hope to speak with such power and presence one day, when I’ve gathered enough time to know what the fuck I’m talking about.
After the meeting, Angel and I had lunch, and then met E-Deezy for a long hike. A LONG hike. It was fantastic. We went all the way to the top and Saucerton Dogsworth and The Big Dog ran free with tongues bouncing and mouths open. A solid 5 miles up and down steep hills, so rocky at some points I threw my hands down in the dirt to make sure my footing didn’t give, and at other points not caring and letting myself fly, no brakes, like Saucy and The Big Dog who run ahead of me. Angel just shook her head as I screamed “Embrace your inner billy goat!!!” and E-Deezy did just as I suggested, also allowing himself to flail wildly down the mountain, forget footing, you don’t have to worry about losing your hold if you are flying over the ground.
Then back home for a small salad and a hot bath. Time to reflect on the day, and the one reoccurring thought throughout the 12 hours awake. I couldn’t for the life of me decide how I felt about yesterday’s post. Am I angry? Am I sad? I think Joan Didion say’s it best in her book “The Year of Magical Thinking”….
“Or was it even a dream?
Who is the director of dreams, would he care?
Was it only by dreaming or writing that I could find out what I thought?”
I find so often, even with only 28 posts on this blog, that I can only see what I am going through when I reread my own words, as if they belong to a stranger. I allow myself to be removed from the situation enough to decide what it is “she” feels, and then take those decisions and make them my own, along with the feelings I’ve given “her” as feelings I am experiencing. I’m not sure if this is some weird part of me compartmentalizing my emotions and then only being able to feel them by recognizing them through another’s words, but it is a step toward making my emotions my own, and feeling them as they arise. Even if it is a day late. I figure as long as I’m not a buck short.
The situation with Bleeze has left me baffled. Of course I will be there for him if he chooses to get his shit together. Of course it breaks my heart that the thought we can’t hang out anymore is running through my mind like E-Deezy and I ran down the hills today. Of course I feel guilty being willing to walk away from the one friendship that has survived all the rest, and the man who has watched me run through battalions of other men. Of course. But how do I process all this? How do I allow myself to begin to feel the reality of the situation, and then act on it in a kind and respectful way. I cannot run and disappear as I once would have, and I can’t scream and fight in a belligerent rage as I’d like to do. All I can do is cry, over the simple fact that I am willing to lose a friend over something I am not willing to put in my body.
E-Deezy asked me today what I would like to say to him, if I were to call and “talk it out.” I told him that there is no point in dreaming up that conversation because I feel like anything I say won’t be heard through the marijuana and drink haze. And I have nothing against the occasional toke or drink, and still am a marijuana advocate, but if you are using either to hide or numb your feelings (and those feelings aren’t nausea induced from chemo or pain from glaucoma), then it’s no better than coke or crack or sex (for me). And if either keep you from being the person you want to be, then perhaps it’s time to put down the blunt or the 40, and step up your game. My personal problem with drink and drug isn’t that they made me hit rock bottom. It’s that they kept me complacent, and satisfied with my own mediocrity. And as a recovering perfectionist, mediocrity is just not a quality in myself that I can live with.
So I didn’t call him. I asked Jilly Beans what I should do, asking her if it’s okay to not want to talk about it yet, and she said I have every right to ask for space, and time. I told her if I called him it would turn into the conversation I’m not quite ready to have, and she said in this case, texting is just fine. So I text him, I said “I need a little time to figure out where my head is.” His response “That’s fine, just wanted you to know that when we came to SD I only smoked when you were passed out when I got home from work and only one other time while you were down here, that’s it. Take all the time you need but I really think talking eventually can resolve a lot of this, we never really sat and talked about what we expected out of one another through all this and I’m sorry I hurt you, it’s a growing process for both of us.” So I text him back. “I know. But all I needed was to see that you still like kicking it with me, and we’ve never been together not fucked up and you know what you are getting from me and it’s stone cold. I just want to be friends with you and I can’t do that if you are only partially there. I’ll call you in a few days. Love you.” No response.
And so again, I’m at a loss for words. The promises say that I will be able to deal with situations that once would baffle me.
So when does that shit start?