a catalogue of some feelings

This has been an amazingly difficult week for me. I am at once both sad and delighted, proud and disappointed, manic and depressed. I have gone through more things in this one week than most people do in a month or three, and it astounds me how every area of my life has had some representation, some small drops or deluge in some cases, to add to the thunderstorm.

Today I grappled with many thoughts of Eric. I haven't heard from our ex-roommates about some chunk of money I sent them and was wondering if he might have revealed to them how I really felt about them (which I was not exactly good at disguising, but I did make an effort to be polite and kind when I was in a good mood). So I thought I'd send him a text asking him about it. I couldn't remember his number. honestly. I kept stupidly pressing numbers for five minutes or so. I deleted him from my phone a while ago to eliminate the possibility that I might someday drunk dial him. But I still looked for him in my contacts.

Finally it came to me, and I sent the text. I got no response. I didn't worry about it too much until a few hours went by. Then I began to doubt that I'd remembered the right number. But I didn't want to call him on top of a text. So then I had my friend Walter call. I had the right number. So at this point I now have to wonder why he's not willing to talk to me either. And it's not like I don't know why. But it's been about a month since we spoke. I guess that's not long enough. To me, it feels like years have gone by already. In the end, I wish I had been a better person in our relationship. I wish I hadn't been so low and mean and horrible with him. When I think about it all, I get nauseous.

Yet this morning, I slept in, awoke to my new apartment and all its possibilities. I then walked down to the local coffeeshop, ate a breakfast panini, had a nice hot mocha and just generally beamed into myself. An older couple played scrabble at a nearby table. A little girl ran through the cafe saying hello to everyone. A woman with a mohawk made small talk with the barista. I realized I live near a Leona's. And the 151 supposedly stops that far north on Sheridan. And someone said "good morning" to me as I walked down the street.

When I got to Siena to work the afternoon shift, everyone was glad to see me. I told my coworker (whose return from vacation was much heralded) all my stories from this week. Walter came by just to see me. I don't feel like some kind of terrible monster who deserves a public flogging for my relationship crimes when I'm at Siena. I feel understood and loved and tended. And after work, babysitting for little Nina, whose smile when I walked in the doorway of her home was stamp and seal and approval of my worth. If I ever question my self, I need only to see her toothy grin, her clasped hands, her shuffled feet, her sway.

Yesterday I spent the day wondering how a week had already gone by since we'd cut ourselves loose of each other, and how it has been like a wound underneath a large bandage, omnipresent, but hidden away, throbbing, healing, ringed with scar tissue, pricked with pain. The truth is, I spent a huge part of my mental capacities mired in him. Many things have happened this week to pick up that slack. It hits me at the worst times, the missing of him, the shock of it, the fantasy of what could have been, and I go into a complete love tunnel, with no end in sight.

I feel so wounded and so surprised at this hurt that it seems like I can never be in a relationship again. I feel so fragile and burned, so skittish and shell-shocked that even contemplating liking another boy seems so impossible. And there hasn't been much communication between us, some potshots here and there, some attempts at returning to what was, and a general moving on has taken place in both our camps, at least, I feel in mine there has. It doesn't make the hurt feel any less deep.

As if she knew it was better for me not to be alone, my friend Natalia kept good on her vague mentionings of a visit and I pursued her--though with some attempts to relinquish her from coming, being saddened by things, but she still came. She traveled clear across the city to spend time with me, helped me do some laundry, sort out some of my things, drink some wine and share some rants. We had marvelous misadventures in our short time together, things that will only ever make us laugh, things we will only share with each other. And she is one of my favorite friends, whose departure from this city will surely leave a gouge in my heart. I have never really been good at making friends, keeping friends, doing the right things with my friends, but she has always understood me, always let me be just who I was, and never got mad at me for the things I wasn't good at doing (like calling or emailing or being count-on-able).

Just thinking about yesterday and all the things I did, all the ways I was powerful and unstoppable, geared up to accomplish anything makes my head spin. I worked in the morning at Siena, trained a new employee, left at one. Headed to the storage unit to tie up loose ends, saw impending thunderstorm in sky, went to eat at Rock and Roll McDonald's. (This new building is like the grown up, misanthropic, minimalist cousin of the previous Rock and Roll McDonald's). The grey clouds burst. I ate a huge meal and talked to Marilyn for about half an hour. We brainstormed about what it might be like if I did take over Siena.

I stopped at her vet on the way to get food for her cat. I walked over to the storage and chatted with the manager. I found a bag missing from the day of the move in the hallway there that I thought had been stolen off the truck. The manager planned on taking it home to his girlfriend. I approved. There was nothing in it that I needed or wanted. I signed some papers. I went to my unit and took three loads of moving blankets to Marilyn's unit. I tried not to grumble too much about why they were even in my unit to begin with. In a gesture of pure revenge I snagged the seven most intact ones and gave them to the manager to thank him for letting me use the van for my moving day. I smiled and laughed and joked with strangers who were loading into their units. Marilyn wanted me to check with her old boyfriend about putting them in his unit. He called me back and said not a chance...I sent him a text that I doubt he'll read for a week. I gathered my things and waited for the manager to finish up with another client.

Then I walked to Marilyn's place to take a shower. My bathroom is still not ready yet (grrr). I made necessary phone calls and ended up talking to a Mom whose kids I babysit for about an hour. then a shower. then home. then Natalia came over and happiness ensued.

ahead of me are just more days and more opportunities to be as accomplished.