Six Metaphors over Georgia

I am on the commitment rollercoaster. The nail-biting ride up the hill clickety-clickety-click--click---click when you're heart's pounding and you're thinking, "Oh, god, this was a terrible idea, why did I do this, I have to get off!" is where I am most of the time. But then, of course, the track peaks, the car tips, and you're careening down the other side, and even though it's scary it's exhilarating, you feel free and good and you can't help but laugh and shriek in delight. That's the part that keeps me around. But it never stays that way, and inevitably I wind up creeping up the next hill again. It's making me a bit nauseous. I just want to get off the ride and get on with my real life. This rollercoaster can't last forever. Eventually you roll back into the station, climb out, wobble around a bit, and then go buy cotton candy and get on with the day. Sadly the question remains: will I be walking to the Snack Shack swinging hands with Atlas, or will I be walking to the Snack Shack alone?

Ho-Hum

I am not well. All week, I've been getting worse and worse. I'm depressed. I feel terrible guilt about virtually everything. I'm paralyzed by sloth and apathy. I'm becoming despondent. I don't want to pack, I don't want to write my application essays, I don't want to work on Atlas' (belated) Christmas card. These are all things that I absolutely. must. do. Instead I'm on the couch in Atlas' hand-me-down over-sized sweatshirt, eating icing out of the can, and watching How I Met Your Mother reruns. I just want to cry and pull the blankets over my head.

Atlas gave me a light box for Christmas. I forgot to use it today. It says "not for use in patients with bipolar disorder." I was never sold on the diagnosis anyway. But maybe it'll just make me even more cranky. And promiscuous. I guess we'll just wait and see...

Prize Fighters? Or Just Fighters?

We've been getting in arguments a lot lately. Is this a phase? Is this something we are supposed to work through, that will bring us closer together? Or are we falling apart?

I'm slightly scared of life because there is so much uncertainty in my future. Little(r) things like where-am-I-going-to-live-next-year, and will-I-get-in-to-Comparative-Religion-next-quarter aren't so bad, although they aren't helping, but the fact that there are huge items still up in the air is making me cluck around like a nervous chicken. Like, what happens if I don't get accepted into either of my chosen nursing programs? How much will things change if Atlas and I don't stay together? How much will they change if we do? Makes my tummy hurt.

I wish I was everything he needs.

baseline drop

I wish I knew if it was that the brand of my birth control makes me feel awesome, or that the generic makes me feel terrible.

I'm thinking about getting off Yaz and switching to something less likely to kill me, and adding an AD as well. The generic of Yaz is no fun, but I've been on it for....three? months now, and I'm really starting to slip away. I had a classic meltdown on Atlas last night. I felt so awful and couldn't convince myself to get out of bed. He called and wanted to come over to cheer me up, and I told him not to because it wouldn't help. He came over anyway, and exactly what I thought would happen, happened. His being there didn't make me feel any better, but when he attempted to leave an hour or so later, I went into a full panic, being convinced that I absolutely could. not. be by myself in the apartment, BEGGING him not to leave me there alone. Naturally, he was annoyed, because I wasn't acting like a normal human being. And of course I kept yelling, "I told you not to come over!" I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't stop. I was so scared and sad that I felt I didn't have physical control over what I was doing.

I haven't been that bad in a loooong time. It sucked. It's like, you cross this line where there's no talking yourself out of it. It's terrifying. And Atlas doesn't get it, not hardly any more than a little bit. I can't explain it to him, because 1) normal people never get it, and 2) I can never explain anything to him.

"You're not crazy," he repeats, a verbal pat on the head.

Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting

The neighbors in my apartment complex are getting hiiiiiiiigh. On my way back from taking the dog out, I stood in the hallway for a few moments before going in, breathing. Reminiscing. And I admitted it out loud.

"I miss him."

I don't know anyone who smokes any more, and that makes me sad.

Questions

Today, in the car, in the rain, in the bright afternoon, Atlas held my hand and asked if I really want to marry him (per usual).

I said yes, and he asked what I was most looking forward to about being married to him. I thought about it a moment and said, "Coming home to you every day. . . and getting to sleep with you every night." Pause. "Is that a good enough answer?" (Half-tease.)

He said yes, and so I asked, slightly nervously, what about him?

He said, "
drinking hot cider or cocoa with you in the winter and watching the Olympics on TV
going on walks together
talking about more than just the day-to-day stuff
"

and I think, he wants me to be there, with a warm glow in my stomach, just be there for everything.

"
you're the first person I've ever been with who's actually encouraged me to. . . do the things that I like. . . like play computer games, to relax, even if it's something that doesn't hold value to you
I like that

and I like it when you sing to me
Sometimes I just hear you singing as you do things around the house
I like that a lot
"

Today was a point-and-click snapshot of true, honest, deep love. It was holy. Sacred. I trembled in the knowledge that this love is for me, bestowed upon me, made from me, all around me. I trembled in the knowledge of his bravery; his deep, living heart; his very soul. The nakedness of the moment was something I felt honored, in awe of, to experience.

God has blessed my soul with the gift of Atlas. He is the redemption for everything I've suffered, all the pain of my past. Is that too bold? How could he not be?

(A dangerous question to ask.)

Memories, Lies

This afternoon it was raining. Atlas and I went up to his bedroom and opened the window. I rubbed his back and his neck, and then we made love on top of the covers.

I thought about the first time we hung out, how we went up to your bedroom the next morning. It was raining and you had the windows open, and you sang "Hey Jude" as you rubbed my back.

Afterwards I wished we had cigarettes. I wanted nothing more than for Atlas to smoke with me, lying back on the bed and blowing smoke at the window screen. We always lit cigarettes after we fucked, like something out of a novel or a movie. You had a small, handmade clay ashtray on your side of the bed. I can't remember if I ashed on the floor or not.

Atlas will never smoke with me, will never go to a greasy diner and order hashbrowns and black coffee and chain smoke with me. I thought about how, when you were lying to me, it didn't matter what I was wearing or how dumpy I looked, I felt good because you wanted me. You made me sexy. You fucked me and made me a sex icon, Marilyn Monroe in my black tights and combat boots.

Atlas asked me what I was thinking about. I said, "Nothing," and smiled at him.

Prize Fighters

Atlas and I are awesome fighters. We don't call each other names, and we always work it out in 48 hours or less, because we luuuuuv each other and are relationship peaceniks. (Although we sometimes place blame and we do tend to get mean. But hey, you have to do something wrong, that's how it becomes a fight!)

We talked this afternoon, Day 2 of the stand-off. It definitely wasn't an instant make-up that quickly dissolved into intense sex, that's for sure. We seem to have polar opposite perceptions of what the topic of the argument even is. However, we have come to tentative terms. I used an awesome restaurant analogy. We held each other tight and kissed like first kisses.

There is still a quiet between us. However slim, the space is noticeable. He said he'll call me tomorrow, meaning not tonight, not before he falls asleep.

I feel better, but not good. Not comforted or comfortable. But I know I am going to fight for this. I don't want to lose us. I realized today, Atlas is not only holding up my skies, he is the very sunshine filtering through them.

Sunday.

Second anniversary. Another huge fight. I leave sobbing at midnight.

Sex--or the lack thereof--is again the culprit.



Help.

the turning of the tide

I've decided not to leave him.

Last Night

We went on a walk after I got home from class. The quiet threaded between our arms and legs and swirled 'round our heads, though we talked of other things. We held hands the whole time, and we both kept squeezing so tight, fear in our fingers, and in the hearts we thought we might be losing.

When I walked him back to his car, he wrapped both arms around me and said, "Well, if you decide to leave me, I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I do."

Psychotherapizing Myself

We got in a fight on Sunday and haven't spoken since yesterday morning. I honestly think this is the longest we've gone without speaking in over a year. And you know what? I'm not upset. In fact, it's been nice to be free from him for a day or two. I'm in no hurry to call him. I'm enjoying the time off.

Yes, I realize the phrases I just chose.

I don't know if I'm just annoyed because we talk on the phone at least three times a day, EVERY DAY (and rarely go two without seeing each other). Annoyed because I feel as if I'm being swallowed up by him; I'm having trouble remembering who I am(was), the things I liked to do, the kind of movies I used to watch, the food I liked to eat. I go along with his ideas to be agreeable and it's been building up all this time, and now two years later I'm finally starting to look around and think, "Hey, who the hell am I?" I'm not me anymore, not Angela. I think that's why I've been so bored lately. Because I don't really enjoy almost any of the things Atlas and I do together, not really.

Huh.

And the thing is, I go along with his ideas because, more often than not, in the moment I don't really mind, and it's better to do what he wants than to do what I want, because he likes almost nothing that I like, and is a complete sourpuss when I talk him into something he wouldn't have chosen for himself. Then I'm uncomfortable and can't enjoy myself. If we listen to music he doesn't like, watch a television show he doesn't want to watch, go out for dinner or to the bar when he'd rather have stayed in (which, let's face it, is ALWAYS), he completely withdraws and sort of closes himself off, to me, and what's happening around us. It's very weird. He was always saying, "team, team, team," but we are not a team. It's like, he wants me in his life, but he doesn't want to have to alter anything about it to accomodate another person being a very close part of it.

He's calling. I answered.

you're there, you're there, you're always there

I miss you.

I MISS YOU.

I MISS YOU!

I MISS YOU!!!

How could you have done that to me? WHY? WHY? I LOVED YOU SO MUCH.

(it is the thunder of my soul.)

i would be a mad hatter except i'm not too fond of hats

HELP!

Meds adjusted upwards. Hopefully I'll feel better soon.

As it is, I can hardly stand being around Atlas. The thought of spending the rest of my life with him sounds like true and utter punishment. He is terrificly annoying, has no sex drive, and acts like a goon.

I know you aren't supposed to run your life based on feelings, but you can't completely ignore them, right? They have to mean SOMETHING, right? Complicating the matter, I'm not sure that any of my current feelings are even REAL.

Not being able to trust your own mind because you're half-mad sucks and it makes me nervous and panicky.

And now I've stayed up too late and have no time to take a nap before class.

(I'm half-afraid I'll tell Atlas the unflattering statements above. Those are things you can't take back. Ever. The other half is afraid I won't say anything at all.

What do I deserve? What will I get?

College is a Little Scary

Trying to figure out exactly what I need to take and in what sequence is frazzling me. I just want someone to hand me an outline and say, "This is exactly what you need to take and when to pre-req you for OSU in this many years." (Sad to say "years" instead of "months." I have effectively been in college forever.)

They're starting to recognize me at the advisors office.

In the words of Katelin at Dubbs Pubbs, "Help!"

The End of June

Tonight he smelled like summer //beer and the light sheen of sweat on tan skin//.

He was asleep when I tiptoed into his bedroom, so asleep that he didn't stir even when I dropped my keys and crawled into bed beside him. He was warm, and I cried, and eventually the rise and fall of his chest calmed the thunderstorm inside me. I could see him struggling to wake up, open his eyes, and he squeezed my hand a little.

Later he held me close with both arms wrapped around me and wouldn't let me get out of bed when it was time.

I didn't even mind.

Well...

...Googling cervical dysplasia did me a lot of good.

Just kidding. It scared me so much I cried.

I've got another repeat PAP coming up, on Tara's birthday. This will be the... fifth? one, I think?, since my gyno originally found the abnormal cells. That's all they have ever told me. "Abnormal cells." "We'll keep an eye on it." "Come back in six months." Suddenly this is striking me as suspicious.

Atlas and I had violent sex last night, which resulted in me shuffling around in pain all day. The typical aftershock of rough sex, I presume, but this was worse than any time I can remember before. My boss actually approached me and offered to send me home. I was confused. "You don't have to, I'm just saying, you can if you need to," she said, very concerned, low tone. "You look like you're in a lot of pain." That made me laugh. It's not like this was the first time Atlas and I have had very rough sex, and I have never experienced this level and duration of pain afterwards, so I thought my cervix must be very low. When I checked it, it was indeed very low....and there were bumps on it. Three or so, it scared me so I didn't stick around to feel it out much more. I haven't checked my own cervix since I lived in Cincinnati, over two years ago, so it's very possible they've been there for ages and mean nothing. But I mean, come on, who ever heard of bumps on your cervix? Possibly everyone but me, but hey! You don't know, you don't know.

Anyway, I Googled that first, which led to the aforementioned panic and crying.

I know I don't really have anything to worry about. I'm glad my re-PAP is coming up soon, though. Put my mind at ease. And I am going to be drilling the doctor...they're my own abnormal cells and I need to know about them!

*sigh

Can you keep a secret?

These days I spend most of my time debating whether or not to break up with Atlas. It seems far-away-and-dire and up-close-and-inconsequential at the same time.

I easily manage to overlook these things:
he does all the cooking
and all the cleaning
he makes my work lunch for me on occasion
he gives massages and back scratches upon request
he is extremely loyal to the point where he doesn't even look at other women -- seriously
he truly loves me
he is always offering to help me with my homework (even though he's not usually that productive at it)
he wants to marry me, have babies, and get a job which would enable me to do nothing but sleep all day and lounge around the house (if we don't have babies, I guess)

...and instead see only these:
he hardly ever wants to fuck me
he makes odd noises and voices that irritate me to no end
he is sort of a social asshole without even realizing it
we don't communicate with each other very well

I don't think we talk enough (not about anything real) or have physical chemistry or get along very well naturally. I wonder if he's asexual or maybe even gay or if we'll ever truly see eye-to-eye.

Speaking of which. He doesn't look me in the eye when we say "I love you." Sometimes he will be looking at me, and I'll get to about "I lo--" and he'll look away. And say, "I love you too" while gazing around the room, with no real feeling behind the phrase.

This greatly disturbs me.

I'm worried we're not meant to end up together, as I have since disconcertingly early in the relationship. I'm not sure why. Something just feels "off." Always has. And I can't quite put my finger on it.

I don't feel a soul connection with him.
He doesn't feel or smell like home to me.
He doesn't look me in the eye when we make love or make me feel desirable (which I always thought was something that happened by default when someone was attracted to you).

I'm just not 100% sold on this.

Isn't it awful?

My mother would be horrified. She's fairly well planned out our wedding already, I'm sure.

In fact, we've kind of planned out our wedding a bit. We've already looked in about a dozen jewelry stores for engagement rings. I'm not as excited about it as I always assumed I would be.

Help.



(I know what I would tell me if I was someone else.)

anniversary, again

You know, it occurred to me a few days ago that if I stopped writing it on the calendar I might forget the dates completely.

driving home from work, wednesday

I wonder if you kept the letter I wrote you
and stuck in your pocket (while you slept in the armchair),
before I kissed your greasy forehead
and walked out of your door for the last time.

I wonder if you ever even found it.
Maybe it sat in your pocket for a few weeks
and then got sent through the wash
and you found it in the dryer,
folded, wrinkled and faded.
Maybe you stared at it for one passing moment
and then threw it in the trash.
(Never thought about it again.)
I can see you doing that.

I've been listening to Never Take Friendship Personal and thinking
of you,
of you,
of you.
When will you leave me?
I am desperate for the day.