Duncan emailed me this morning, saying how he loved the show and how sweet I looked. How he was approached at 7:15am in Noah’s Bagels with questions about Kerri Ann. I waited through the afternoon, and upon the advice of my wise commenters, emailed him back. “It was really beautiful how close we were then. I miss that.” I didn’t receive any response. I can’t say I’m surprised.
It baffles me, how close you can be to someone, and still feel so far away. Had I gone down there in person, four doors down, and told him what I emailed, I worry we would have been even farther apart, sincere spoken words have the ability to cause great distance between those closest, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I miss that” has the ability to illustrate exactly how far apart we’ve become. How far apart we are. I emailed him because I was afraid to look him in the eye. To honestly tell him how distant I feel from him. How much we’ve changed. I was afraid that his eyes would reveal the truth, and the truth would be that he agrees. I emailed him because it meant I didn’t have to commit. I could say what I felt and leave it at that. There is nothing to do now that will change our relationship, perhaps only time and effort, but at this moment, things are exactly as they should be. ?. He is in his home, and I am in mine. We both type furiously on our laptops, go to bed with our dogs, wake up to take them potty, head out to meetings and coffee and life. When our paths cross, we will chat. When the show airs, we will speak of it. Other than that, I’m not sure where we stand. But as Jilly Beans says, “The good thing about this situation is that you don’t have to do anything right now. You can choose to do nothing.” I’ve done what I’m ready to do, even if it was the pussy way out. I’m too afraid that more will change things, and I’m too unsure of how things will change. For now, email will do.
I spent the day writing, writing my little heart out, and for the first time since my days at SDSU, feel as though I’ve accomplished something. My brain hurt. I hopped on hulu to watch Flashforward, figured I deserve some mind numbing television where I’m not looking at my own shit, or analyzing this or tearing apart that. I wanted an hour or two of silence. I had a big day today, and feel good about the things I accomplished, even if they were only things that will lead to more things.
I finished my first blog for the Huffington Post LA, and sent it off to the editor in chief. Willow Bay, an entertainment and news goddess, my direct contact for the Post, said she is pleased with my writings and is sending it on to the editor who will make my words sparkle. I finished my proposal, a huge feat, a grand finale of 32 pages that I’m sure will be sliced and diced to perfection. I spoke with my agent about ad space for this blog (to help bring in some revenue) and potential publishers (which is all looking good.) I had a big day filled with medium sized words, and the finished product left me feeling accomplished. I like writing. I love rewriting. If this really is my life, and I’m not going to wake up from a dream at any given moment, then I’m stoked…and even if it is a dream, it’s a great fucking dream.
The proposal and beginning stages of the memoir is a bit overwhelming. I’m taking apart my life, looking at the big meaningful chunks and trying my best to make sense of it. To tell the story in an even and accurate tone. I’m writing the entire memoir in the present tense, am taking a slightly different approach than the majority of memoirs I’ve read, and am up for the challenge. But I find I’ve blocked out large sections of my life. Months at a time have been lost, somewhere in the back room, and one thing pops up after another. Sometimes I don’t know how to organize my memories. So I write them down. Figure I’ll be able to sort and file them later. Hopefully they sort and file themselves.
I’m so glad to have started writing here, this place has helped me more than I ever thought possible. From tracking my recovery, to self discovery, to the little glimpses of the past that occasionally shine through the screen, I’m glad this place is here for me, and safe. I think that is the biggest thing in my life right now, the need to feel safe. And I feel safe. Most of the time.
I had to ask my dad for help this month, which I absolutely hate. I know money will be coming in, and I know things are being set up as I write these words, but I still needed help and nothing feels worse than needing a hand. And that’s not entirely true. I’d rather ask for help than make easy money like I know how to. And my dad generously offered, knowing full well how much I hate it and how I can’t wait to pay him back. Parents really are amazing creatures. My dad is here for me, in my life, and no amount I could ever repay him would let him know how much I appreciate his help, or love. The tide, she changes with the wind. And even though he’s at the top of this country and I’m at the bottom, our distance doesn’t matter. Now he’s in my life, I don’t feel so alone. Every kid needs a Dad. I’m glad I’ve got mine.
So the day was full, full of wanting to feel safe, of accomplishing goals, of reaching out and trying to be humble enough to ask for help when I need it. Tomorrow will be full as well, as will the next day and the next. I’m just happy to be here.