Learn to be still

I'm sitting in my room, about to get ready and go into work (which is always a beast because it requires picking out a. not sweat pants and b. close-toed shoes), and I just got off the phone with Jessica hashing out, well, everything, from poke-wars to the National Enquirer, and hanging up I felt a little out-of-body. Whenever I get off the phone with her I end up realizing how far away I am from that friendship and how important it is to me. And then I end up feeling... not myself I guess.


And then Lullabye round 2 came up on my play list and I remembered the day we recorded that in Em's apartment with Adam hunched over his guitar like a little old man and me leaning away from the mic on my little mac. I think if you listen closely you can hear the green line go by in the background on one of those tracks. I remember writing this song over the course of 3 days and feeling like I was putting together something that I knew would be very important to me in terms of marking that time. I know I was sad, drifting, really, and very lonely, but when I listen to this recording all I remember was how balanced I felt at the very moment when I sang it that day. I remember us listening to it immediately after and thinking to myself "That song didn't exist three days ago! I contributed to the world!" and what a solid feeling that was.

My very helpful brain then pipes up with thoughts like "Does that mean that I felt most myself when I was in Boston? When I was writing almost every day with Adam? When I was living with Emma and Raech and Joe? When I was fatter? When I lived and died by new episodes of Big Love? When I was gay (as though my dear brain can't process the thought that I could still be somewhere in those waters even if I'm far from her)? When I was plowing through my 4th step like solving an equation?" I can't speak to any attempts at analysis my (still very helpful) brain comes up with in response to my emotional impulses here. I can't even re-connect with the sense of pride I felt when I first listened to it. As though now that some time has gone by I no longer get to feel accomplished over it. It doesn't count anymore. Like nothing counts unless its fresh and I can reach into the past 30 seconds and remind this 6 year old version of me that she's enough, and here's recent proof! Like hearing "I love you" and fearing 10 minutes later it may not be true anymore.

Meh...kind of bitter stuff I guess...par for the course right now. Not that its the misery channel all the time or anything, but certainly when I'm alone (which is pretty much whenever I'm not at work, at yoga, or at rehearsal...or at dinner with Dad) that deep pang of loneliness is inescapable. I haven't been out of a relationship since I was 14, really, and I'm beginning (barely beginning) to see how having someone love me is about proving I exist. See, you love me, that means I'm here! Since I was little I've been aware of this defect that tells that any minute I'm not actively being loved/valued/praised/connected with I cease to exist. So this is day 4 into the experiment of seeing if I disappear by the end of the week. Or year. Who knows. I end up talking to myself a lot as though I were my 25 year old self, 6 year old self and my own nanny all at once, especially when I get home from work at CV and have to do the get ready for bed things.
"We've gotta brush teeth and track down the bite-guard which I think I put back in the container this morning otherwise its on the side of the sink and take care of these clothes on the floor and then wash our face and play with my assortment of eye creams and then get in bed, plug in the phone, maybe we could watch some Intervention, how about something less intense and dramatic like Community? Sounds good, maybe I'll fall asleep while I watch, but I should unplug my phone before I do so it doesn't overcharge and weaken the battery. Good thinking! Pray before or after Community? After. No now, I'll remember the list better before I zonk out. Wonder what I want for breakfast."


I remember when I was on the Green River with Dad when we were very little, and he was explaining how I could drink out of the river using my hand, and him saying "You have your own built-in cup everywhere you go. You take it with you." I know the same idea is supposed to apply for caretaker and comforter, I just never had to learn how before.