8:30 am.
Stepmother: "You just get up and go, don't you?" [I am washing dishes and positively boogying to the Cure on the ipod]
Me: Well, I was up past 2 am last night.
Stepmother: Really, reading?
Me: Sort of. More like being angsty.
Stepmother: About what?
Me: Some angst.
*
At least I did the right thing about her birthday (which is today, inspiring all sorts of dreadful mixed metaphors about Santa Storks and so on), which was to acknowledge it. I wasn't going to as I had already made my position clear on Christmas presents- let's not bother- but I can see that I did the right thing. If I had not gotten her anything it would be the worst part of my father, the part that shuns sentimentality and cares only for what is practical, like lending a hand, some money for groceries--if that.
Some women need small acknowledgements (including me I suppose, as I am leading up to, the great drama of the "Check In" phone call: a source of devastating contention; it is small things, after all, which start wars and fires and everything) and these more than pay off in the end. Although my stepmother can be devastatingly cold and in certain ways betrayed my trust in major ways when I was young (and made me out to be a thief for taking her motherfreaking lavender talcum powder into my room after a shower and absentmindedly leaving there; she put a postit or something on it that was like, "You can have this. I love you. I'll pray for your sins" or something at least that ridiculous, but that was many years ago, and though the past is always with us and we cannot do away with it, we must of course allow for progress)- why shouldn't I strive to love her and get along with her? She has her moments, a soothing voice, and a smile which flashes like the sun. And though not an intensely elegant woman, she IS womanly (Capricorn Sun, Scorpio Moon, and thus also formidable, whereas my Gemini/Pisces melts all over the screen and blows to another dimension before I even really understand that something has gone wrong between us) pretty eyes like a cat's, green with dark lashes. She's a medical transcriptionist and has few hobbies but she has a real fighting spirit- was pregnant in high school, had a mess of a Mom who didn't take care of her, lost her sister to a murder when she was 18, single parent--and boy did she do something right with those girls, who are among the most easygoing and pleasant I almost ever met. (Our blended family was quite funny in that her girls were so submissive, a little but not much younger then us, and Zach and I had lived as though among wolves with our single Father, had been like a council with no real Boundaries of parental authority/progenic submission, and were both asked to leave the house; whereas the girls, 21 and almost 18 are not budging until they are properly courted and then married)
*
My boyfriend and I got into quite a rift last night which disturbed my sleep but was good in the sense that I had to call on God. Also, given our troubled history, what sense would it make for things to go perfectly smoothly? It is only sensible that conflicts arise and then we rationally and compassionately deal with them, which is what ultimately happened in this case (I think) and for this I am glad. I will say, however, that I descended into a personal hell last night, and many would say I overreacted but to me it was real and unstoppable. What happened was that he was supposed to call me at a certain time. He was going to a friend's that I'm not crazy about anyway for a variety of compelling reasons, but I would never forbid him to hang out with a platonic friend (not that he would ever listen to me, but today he told me one of his biggest hang-ups and his reasons for fickleness is a deep-seated fear of being emasculated or, in lay terms, "whipped," which I wasn't really so conscious of and is perhaps a good thing to know), but anyway, I expect him to call when he says he will unless there is a very good reason, particularly when I am away and when we are just beginning to grow in a committed way and I have understandable trust issues with him, who has disappeared many times (though never, to be fair, permanently). But anyway, who really cares, because what is a phone call, but it's an accountability thing, and he didn't call, and I grew frantic, and did something I should not do for many reasons which include that there is no need to make a collossal fool of myself when I'm simultaneously accomplishing nothing whatsover. So what I did was about 4 texts, who knows how many calls, and also a few calls to the friend, which he considers unacceptable but... I don't know. I kind of consider being blown off unacceptable.
At any rate, I got ahold of him, reamed him out, said many absurd and unflattering things, he hung up, I called back, and then his phone was shut off for lack of payment.
It was crazy, because I kept telling myself, you've been through this movie before, keep cool babycakes, what is the point, you can ditch him if you really don't like it; you're a free agent without having to humiliate yourself etc. etc. etc. But it was so bad that I thought I'd never sleep again, so I got in touch with the Good Lord and we had quite a bit of one on one time. I could literally feel fear and anxiety coursing through my body and I was like geez, this can't be good, but I was like God, you are sovereign. This is as preordained as the cigarette I had mid-bible study on the streets with swirling light snow, which I thought would provoke a relieving BM (how I suffered gas, last night, raw onions hamburg tahini my goodness, I told my family: "All that is left to do with this is pursue a crescendo." - "Great," they said. "We're all in this together," I said. "Really," the said), and was preordained, to not. I thought again of my gunshot, of that awful sinking horror, and I had a moment where I was like God, Why did you give that to me? If I can't ever get better [by which I referred not to physical recovery but cleaning up my act], why give me something else to stumble upon?... But then I remembered what the Pastor's wife said earlier, that it was not for us to know (which I'm sure unbelievers consider a particularly stupid cop-out, and I must work on constructing an answer to them, but I can say little except that even in the most mundane matters, we often don't understand the value of any given thing in isolation and the whole can be very slow to reveal itself) and it was foolish to think that God had made a mistake. I decided to make some decisions. I decided if I didn't hear from D by noon I would not talk to him for several days and then reevaluate the situation. I prayed about whether or not to throw in the towel. He called around 2 though I had turned off my phone, and fell asleep around that time and really slept pretty okay, had interesting dreams with a great deal of mixed company, and though I have burning behind my eyes from the combo of getting less then my sleep "quota" and coffee cup no. 3 (a combo I must admit is not without charm), all is well. As I told David, the anxiety I have left over is not like the attack which took my body captive so many times including last night and points to some real Issues in me that need Healing (and I am not here being tongue-in-cheek, no matter how much it seems like it), but more like the anxiety I feel sending off a packet full of many different things to graduate school and keep checking. Like: did we get everything? Are our ducks as well lined up as they can be, for now? It's hard to leave things off in the middle and accept the best amount of peace you can get in the moment, but it's part of life, and maybe one women (with their multitasking-geared brains, they say) have an edge in. I was quite hysterical and actually said to him on the phone, "Can you get off S's [his friend] dick for a minute and [bleeping]talk to me," which was unnecessary and benefited no one. He for his part apologized for his actions, we have a bit of a game plan, but I have to remember that he is one of many men I could be happy with. Neither of us want to be the other's doormat which is healthy and right though often our behavior has not been. As long as he recognizes when he's in the wrong and calls me out for my shit, and we can resolve our conflicts, I'm willing to work on it. I have, after all, been in love with him for many years.
*
There's a lot more I want to say about matters of faith, but I will come back to it.
