Renate

WHAT is with this obsession?

2005-07-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, the bullshit with GP? Inane curiousity over her wardrobe, her life, her child, her diet. How she stays so thin and pretty, how she can travel the world and work or not work, how her H writes beautiful love songs for all the world to her. I'm partially envious but not in an "I hate her" kind of way. In fact, I completely admire her. So she's number two after CB. But really, what the fuck? I suppose I should do some research to figure out why I do this. Is it a way of escaping reality? I'm not sure. Perhaps I'm using it as a chart to map my own life by, which is complete crap. Why can't I just live my life the way I was meant to and stop looking at what other people are doing? Stop wishing I had some glamorous life that I'm never meant (and actually wouldnt want) to have. What is wrong with me?

Well, whatever it is it needs to stop. I can't see that it brings me one bit of good. In fact, it takes time away from ways I could be improving myself. So I'm going to try to end it. No more peeks or looks or long trips to Walgreens to stand in the tabloid aisle.

What do we do with our past?

2005-07-11T15:08:00.000-07:00

I reestablished my Ipod. Complete with my beloved music.

Some of the music is simply a very painful reminder of where I was during the worst of my depression. The music that carried me through the many hours of lying about listlessly, finding only hope and darkness and some sick kind of beauty about myself, my surrounding. Everything about the world hurt me. Things were painfully pretty. I felt too deeply. Looking back on it from afar, I can’t quite touch it. At the time, I had no idea how self-absorbed I was. I knew I was participating in my own demise. I couldn’t look past my own pain to see the detriment it would cause to the people around me and ultimately to myself. Taking an even more macroscopic approach to things, ordering this “event” in a larger timeline I see it may have been necessary. Had the catalysts not been in place, I may eventually found myself in the same place several years down the road.

But the music. I was hoping that I was far enough away from things to enable myself to listen to some of the most painful songs. The ones I had on repeat while I laid in the grass on campus, staring at the sky, mind running in circles. I’m trying to “own” it. Make different associations. I think it might still be too early.

What about this transition period? The one year mark, this fall. Will the transition be a good thing? A distraction? Or, will it cause B to take the opportunity to sever his ties with me? I’m still so untrustful of the closeness. I’m untrustful of his love, his willingness to be with me. More accurately, his desire to be with me. To move on, buy property, have children. Make these gigantic strides towards the rest of our lives. I fucking hope he does. I do. With ever ounce of me that I have, I do. I love him exquisitely and wholly and purely. It’s just that things have been going so well. Maybe even better than they have before. I want this so badly. I want to hold onto it and keep it for a lifetime. I’m doing everything possible to shield it, protect it, nurture it.

Maybe it was all right. Perhaps that turning point of truth needed to happen in order to exorcise the final demons. And now, we have these new events. The feelings of happiness, togetherness. The possibility of employment. He keeps toasting to new beginnings. I want to believe it so badly. I do believe it, when I’m not being such a pessimist. It seems too book-like. That slow decline towards the ultimate destruction, followed by attempts at rebuilding…only to culminate at what may have been the lowest point. Where are future was at it’s most tenuous point. Where I believed it was over, and I think he did too. For that day. Certainly the worst day of my life.

Hmm, not all of the songs are tainted. I can take my own psyche slowly. Let time meld over the parts that are still raw. There are too many good things happening right now to let them fly by unnoticed. And I still have the same beautiful music to support me.

The Truth

2005-06-15T01:50:00.000-07:00

The truth is, I am a liar.

I witheld a lot of exchanges that I had during the affair that I told B about today.

He is devastated.

I want to die.

I want to do everything possible to help him.

No more than usual

2005-06-06T15:26:00.000-07:00

"No more than usual"

The common answer to, "are you mad at me?".

Now that I've written that out...I'm realizing I should never ask that question again. Pathetic.

No more than usual means...to me...yeah, Im still pissed. Nothing has changed. Every positive interaction between us is a lie. I'm trying to make it work, I'm trying to love you again, maybe I'm even trying to love you for who I know you are now, but I'm still stuck in the same place I was when you did this to me.

I have massive insecurity. What if he gets a job, and we're both excited. I breathe a little sigh of relief. He will feel so much better about himself, his confidence will grow back, he will have social interaction outside of the video game, he'll play it less and re-enter the real world. Or, he has financial independence and decides its time to leave.

N believes the chance that he would leave right now is next to nothing. I tend to agree, not because I'm so confident or because I think I deserve it that he stays. I just in my very core believe he would rather be with me than without me. I think, I'll go away for a few days this weekend for Tina's wedding and he'll miss me terribly and be happy when I get home. But I can't ever be sure. I suppose I need to live like I am sure, otherwise its sure to tear me apart.

The regret sickens me. Every day. It just gets worse, the farther I am from where I was, the farther I am from understanding why I did it.

I just reread my last post. This one is nearly identical in sentiment. Good to see I have come so far from Saturday.

I just want to know, is what I have going to stay? I look at my left hand. Full regalia. Will I see this for the rest of my life?

"Pain comes in stages. If you don't make it, nothing changes" - South

He thinks I'm so superficial. That the wedding was a sham, I was one of those girls who just wanted it to be "my day". He really can't be farther from the truth. I remember catching my reflection in the mirror while I sat next to him in the limo. Being driven around alone, together right after the wedding ceremony. We looked so...perfect. Just like the pictures in the magazines. So perfect it made me ill. Nothing that we had gone through was worth it for that glance, that look. What was perfect was the way I felt. I walked down that aisle happy, and with no regrets. The most amazing (the only amazing) part of that day was the half hour ceremony. The part where I was actually marrying him The rest I could have done without. Should have done without. The happiness I had with him was so prevasive through my body, more importantly the happiness he had with me. I feel like I've ruined it. I think about the look in his eye that day and I've squelched it. It makes me so sick.

I remember driving back to Boston. I was driving, he was sick. Maybe he drank too much, I don't know. He passed out and I started crying. I was pulling bobby pins out of my hair, trying to remain calm. I was so tired, maybe spending the night so far away was a mistake. I could barely concentrate on the road. I felt just as shitty as he did, but I had to take care of him. There was nobody to take care of me. That moment as well, stuck with me. I got over it, as I always do. I went on to have a very close evening with him. A lovely evening. We sat on the couch talking about how happy we were. It pains me to think of it now. I hate myself. Regret regret regret.

I think...this whole weekend I felt totally ignored. You were entranced by the game. I was an accessory. Was it because you were angry with me? Or did the anger trigger by all of the game playing? Chicken and egg?

Hi Sweets

2005-06-04T15:27:00.000-07:00

Hi Sweets
she says
the familiar lines spew forth
party invite is immediate
"unbeknownst" experience points
we've only been waiting for 3 hours

I just want to vomit from it all. Everything. I'm in a horrid state today. Hopeless. I'll never have a fulfilling career. I'll never regain the trust of my husband. I'll never rid myself of this fucking online community that I have grown to loathe.

Where am I going? Tears attack, slowly. I'm stagnated. I wan't that crystal ball. Some reassurance that "God", yes, the God I have so much trouble believing in knows the answer to my fate. I was thinking about this this morning, lying in bed. I rolled over and looked outside at the tangible. Knowing and understanding that my true reality was mostly within my own power. My own decisions. The decisious I have made in the past and the consequences of those. "God" doesn't know my future. Only time knows.

Is it going to be like this forever? I'm so incredibly

The phone just rang. Dave. Ignored.

incredibly...I don't know. I can finally start building my life again. Focusing on things other than inner turmoil. Things related to propelling my life in a forward direction. And still I feel this hopelessness. The unknowing, the black box. Wondering if I can ever be happy again. If I can ever be the wife I intended to be, the wife I am and want to be. Can I make him happy? Can I ever forgive myself?

Genius

2005-05-28T16:28:00.000-07:00

To have always thought you were fundamentally the same. Only to look over one day and think, "was I lying to myself?". Or was there some sort of change involved?

Where does this come from?

I was speaking with a friend the other day. He and his wife are going through a dark period, these are people who had that model connection. The kind where you look at them and just know they belong together. He wants to write. He has to write, he knows this. There is simply no way to strip him of this desire, yet he believes his wife wants him to. I think to myself "how could she?" (of course, I know this is ridiculous to say - not knowing the situation - my actual thought was, I wish B would want to write, I would support him, and why...WHY should I want him to do something he doesnt to do, knowing it is impossible and wrong to attempt to instill passion where it doesnt exist). To discover, to KNOW what one must do on this Earth is rare. Far too rare of a desire to squelch. Could one live with themselves knowing they had extinguished (or thought they had) passion? Like saying to Brian, get out of LA, come home and take a desk job. Back to my author friend, practical realities include a house and a baby. So, she may have to do this - be the breadwinner - and the mother. However, if the man is writing its all for a noble cause. If the artist is never given a chance, then what? Imagine what we as a society have already missed in great talent that was unrealized.

So I sit here at school with all of my old songs running through my head. And Im transported back into a period of time when I was capable of feeling nothing but pain and sadness. In some sick way I long for it although I have no desire to return. I see myself lying on the grass, oblivious to anyone or anything outside of my own head. Wanting so badly to die and to live. Mostly to escape, leave myself. In fact, I already had. I force myself to hear this now - not because I want to relive the moments but more so I can let go, leave them, attach them to another reality.

The passion is not lost, I can always feel things too deeply. Even through the perfunctory tasks of living every day.

I'm so confused. I don't know what to do with my life. Just completely lost in that realm. I'm just wading through the last vestiges of graduate school grasping for clues. No, more like convincing myself of several different potential realities. Still stuck in the bell jar. Will I ever not be?

Sex

2005-05-22T22:41:00.000-07:00

As in, it's been great and I've been having it pretty much once per day. It's not scary and passionate sex. Its sex with someone I love more than anything. Wanting to gratify him. Feeling safe enough to liberate my own self to be gratified. I don't know, it's just been good. It was fantastic on our anniversary. For pretty obvious reasons. Foreplay - not even in a physical sense but completely psychological was all in place and I was so much more ready for it than I usually am. Somehow, this has been carried on for days. No complaints.

I can't begin to describe the events that passed on our 2 year anniversary. I'm quite sure they will remain vivid in my heart and mind for years to come.

I can't believe I spent so much of my time completely insane. I'm sure I exaggerate a bit, I was still a functioning member of society (by the standards of the average American, certainly not by my own standards).

I quit the game. I told only a few people that I was "taking a break". I can't quite delete my character or give my stuff away. Well, not until B decides to give up the game himself, but I know I can't go back. I hate Enki and I'm not sure I can deal with being annoyed with her all the time. I felt too much obligation to my static. I thought about my real life friends and how they seemed to get a long perfectly fine without an internet addiction. I was quite tired of spending 50 hours a week having an online life. It really is quite sick. I think the first day was hardest. It's easier now. I'm kind of enjoying the other shit I'm doing. Like not feeling pressure to leave work by 5, reading (and I did reread The Catcher In The Rye), yoga.

And so, I bugged Gary about getting cable installed, which I think may be possible this Tuesday. I told Neil about it and he remarked "TV is your methodone". Elaine liked that one.

B asked if it bothered me that he is still playing. I answered, "no". Because I don't feel like I have any right express annoyance at this. If I think about how I feel regarding the matter, it bothers me about 20% of the time. I have appreciated the fact that he has put the game down to spend time with me, go out to dinner, head to a lab bar-b-que. And he has, without complaint or prompting. I suppose its like he said, "I don't want to feel like I have to compete for my wife's attention". Unless I come up with an activity that is interesting enough for him to participate in, I lose out to Roguel.

Lets not complain about this - lest we look like the biggest fucking hypocrite on Earth.

There's no rule that says I'm not allowed to have opposing thoughts and feelings. Just a rule that says they may never resolve.

I spent the day putting together a CV and writting a bullshit essay about "teamwork" for this 3 day McKinsey info session in July. If I am chosen, perks include a full ride to the Ritz in Florida and an opportunity to do some in-depth learning about managment consulting. I'm not sure I want to actually be one of those people. I'm quite sure I can't handle a job requiring me to work 80 hrs/week and travel constantly.

All of that aside, I would still like to be chosen for this session. I have no idea how competitive it is. All I do know is I completed the application (kind of) and find myself all worried about my GRE scores, SAT scores, ugrad GPA, the fact that I haven't won any awards or fellowships. Generally, I feel highly inadequate. Sure, I'm quite accomplished but not when you compare me to the rest of the PhDs and MDs out there. I probably fall in the bottom 50%. Good to see my self-esteem is on the rise.

I have an overwhelming desire to stop staring at a computer screen and start staring at my book.

"The Executioner's Song", Norman Mailer. He writes such a loathe-worthy character.

Depression

2005-03-29T21:50:00.000-08:00

Holden Caufield was depressed.

Even thinking back upon the book, I read it twice. Its dark. The cover maroon, the pages musty even though the book was new. It conjures up, for me, these ancient rooms in an ancient school, skinny boy with his head hanging low. Eternally bleak outlook upon life, nothing to look forward to. New York, still, alive and alone. The city there, the boy absent. Hollow.

There was a time once where I could purely intellectualize depression. When dealing with a depressed person I wanted to scream at them. Shut, the fuck up. Stop thinking about only yourself. All you fucking do is moan and groan and you cant see beyond your own fucking existence. I remember avoiding D, because every phone call was centered upon this. I had more patience with other friends of mine. Ones that didn't depend on me as much. Like Simone.

And now I can only see how far gone I actually was because I'm slowly emerging from this sea. The salt still clings to my body. Eroding, slowly. But my head is above water and I am looking back. It makes me want to cry, really. Just to know, to understand how clouded I was. How I knew, in my head, life was worth living. Technically. Suicide was never an option. However, I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything positive. I felt things, so deeply, so intensely. But these things were rarely good. Sometimes, they just were. Ache, wind, air, the dog's fur underneath my hand.

To think if a climactic event, I can't. Its my life, I suppose. Nearly impossible to summarize like a book. I remember being unable to cry, which I blame on the Wellbutrin. One fact that pleases me is that I am not taking that right now. As evidenced by my grand mood swings today. Tears springing to my eyes. Its strange to me that during that time I couldn't cry. I physically couldn't. Was it an effect of the drugs? Or, was it my previous MO, it really just hurts too much for crying. Its not frustration - frustration brings tears to my eyes more easily than anything else. It reminds me of Dana, I wonder if she's the same way.

Its intriguing for me to read Sylvia Plath's journals. She seems so just, rather normal. Castigates herself for daily sloth, feeling sad, having her writing rejected. She is continually ambivalent. Many days completely lacking confidence in her own writing and other days knowing that she has created something different and good. She's crying, she can be angry, she can take joy in things like cooking a good meal. Feeling best when productive.

One thing she seemed to do which amused me, which is what I do too - is to make these weird lists of what she needs to do in life in order to perfect it. In order to attain, or achieve. What is to be attained, achieved I think sometimes alluded her. Or perhaps, I am projecting and it just alludes me.

So, the list of "I must do in order to achieve stuff and things and happiness". Spend as much time as I like writing in my blog. Focus at school. Finish writing this manuscript so I can pursue other scientific projects at the bench, meanwhile being creative with words (or anything else I deem artistically worthy) in my spare time. Spent less time playing FFXI, however, do not ignore it altogether because it can be a way to relax the brain and make small achievements. Treat myself to a lot of reading. Mrs. Dalloway and The Grapes of Wrath for heady books. Anything chewable (Virgin Suicides) for quicker studies. Reread or remind myself of The Catche In The Rye. Do a lot of yoga. Hopefully, yoga can help me deal with my frustrations. Learn NOT to take frustration out on others, this is a useless practice that accomplishes nothing. Question is, how do I harness this frustration? Is it simply control, or is there an outlet?

What about going abroad? Will that ever materialize? What do I truly want? A nice house, with stainless steal appliances and granite in the kitchen and a baby? Money made that can pay the mortgage and buy nice shoes? Or, a less conventional lifestyle. Waiting on children, renting, trying something unusual for a job, travel if it could work...if B would want it too.

Yoga, has to be a temporary solution for me. I know how I am. I know how I was when depressed, which was just sort of an extreme form of myself. If, I am not accomplishing anything I grow discouraged. Small achievements are a must for me in order to make larger achievements. To retain a little positivity about myself. And yoga was so perfect. If you do it, you will progress. Its that simple. Now, one way in which I always felt I was "failing" in yoga, even when I was in the thick of it was because I was not a daily practicioner. I need discipline. I've never had it. I've always kind of wanted it. Not in everything, just in some things. I'm old enough to know that I am, by nature a very undisciplined and unroutined person. I've stopped fighting it, for the most part. However, with yoga I want things to be different. So its important I garner this habit. I feel like, if I could just do that, then everything else would fall into place behind it. I would be at school earlier, with more energy and thus more productive. Maybe I could concentrate in a way I haven't been able to.

And what about this manuscript. Why do I abhor thinking about things that need to be revised, over and over again? Is that why writing poetry to me seems so be so much more digestable than a whole book? If indeed, I am so fearful (or bored, I don't know which) of large, grandiose projects then why did I choose to do a PhD? I say that a tad tongue in cheek. Because its really a series of discrete events. Although, when I look back upon it as a whole I realize how truly mediocre what I have produced is. Its a blessing I have the good name of Berkeley behind this PhD. Its another blessing that I will be leaving science. Because anyone inside the field would know exactly how mediocre my work is.

Themeless

2005-03-29T17:26:00.000-08:00

Everything comes to me in the shower. And then its gone by the time I get here. Frankly, I'm surprised I got here at all. Usually I never do.

Today: Meant to make it to yogay (day number 2), failed when the alarm went off. Rolled over into B and the dog and listened to them breathe and sleep. I was warm, happy, comfortable. I didn't castigate myself too much for not getting up at the time. The room seemed dark, even though I know the sun is up by 6am. I turned the alarm off. Woke again at 8:30. Immediately felt guilt about not working on my paper. I decided to spent the morning at home, since I had to see Gina at 11. The morning turned into the afternoon.

Gina's visit: I told her about my discussion with B yesterday about money. I also told her about the "sickness" comment, missing B while skiing, the imminence of divorce two weeks ago and the absence of that possibility currently. My state right now, more stable and happy. Albeit, very, very concerned about finances. We discussed getting help from my parents or B's Dad. She seems to think I have a reluctance to accept help when its being offered to me. I feel as if I shouldn't need it. Perhaps she's right. I'm 28. I'm also the sole breadwinner. It made me feel a little better about having my parents treat me to yoga.

Yesterday, a trip to Berkeley Bowl to buy groceries. Alcohol and cigarettes have been eliminated, too expensive. I'm quite relishing the fact that there is food in our very own house. The idea of cooking seems wonderful to me. My interest in the game has waned (so has B's slightly) and is being replaced with reading, sleeping (for yoga) and a desire to cook my own meals and dinners. I feel good about this. My life, as I know it and knew it is returning back to normal. Homeostasis. The possibility of living and working for myself is presenting itself to me once again. As selfish as that sounds, can it really be more selfish than the way I have been behaving the last few months? I think not.

And what is it about this homeostasis. I cannot survive a continual tennis match of divorce/together/divorce/together. I swear it, I will break. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I needed a decision made. And its here (I think, I hope). And that is to walk together once again. I've been enjoying this, quite a lot. The normalcy. Getting along. Silence filled with warmth and light as opposed to pricky barbs, red, black, hollow yet visceral. I'm quite tired of misery. Its not defeat. I'd like to use yesterday as an example. Instead of the fierce anger exploding from me in some tunnel of hate where I am without blame, riteous, I chose to treat with compassion. Sympathy. In turn, my anger and frustration was relieved, accepted, noticed. As tears streamed down my face and I explained that it was how I felt. The situation, it sucks. No money. No money. Worry. Reluctance to take upon a second job on my part - knowing it would only end in more resentment. The idea of a loan. Still a possibility. The credit card debt sickening me.

Anyway, the homeostasis. I'm sure some might look at this and say, you've given in. You were too afraid of change. You're not supposed to be with this person but you're too much of a pussy to leave. And I say, it has taken courage to stay. There was a lot there in the first place that I loved, cherished and could not and would not sacrifice. The risk was too high. I almost lost it. I thought I did. And this morning I traded jokes, shared a bagel and curled up with my dog and I loved it. I was happy. I knew, I could do this, I wanted to do this. Marriage, a terribly long road wraught with anger, hatred, love. It is like the hours and Mrs. Dalloway. This moment in time. Today.

I was speaking with Deb. I asked her what she preferred from a relationship. Passionate swings or stability and comfort. She said both, at different times. I agreed. And we both agreed it wasn't necessarily fair to ask that of a partner. B, I think, wants the latter. Not much of the former. However, can I really expect him to follow my swings? And why, is my sexuality so tied to the two. These periods of passion, I find myself in a terribly erotic state. I think about and want sex all of the time. Generally, I'm not having it either. Then then, when things are good, stable, filled with banter and smiles and a lot of very sweet physical contact I think about sex rarely.

I suppose its the association of sex with these negative things. Guilt mostly.

Speaking of castigation. The biggest block on my head at the moment is my paper. I feel like such a disappointment. I'm working on editing it today. I finally sat down to it around 4pm today. After cleaning the livingroom, making noodles, closing B's checking account at the bank, checking various websites, writing the ashtanga blog, B's phone call to his Dad (yes, we can have the accountant do our taxes). Then after working on it a bit came a shower, this blog, thinking about preparing dinner...procrastination. Its bloody boring is what it is.

However, the day today was quite wonderful. Spring, wind, dogs bounding away from their owners, sun and a bit of warmth, especially in the sun. The air sharp, crisp and without rain.