23/03/03
it's unbearable to be silent. i have no distractions.
i'm thinking of it as saturday night at present, although technically it's early sunday morning here. i've been on my own for about a week now. tonight i feel sad, on the verge of tears, and sort of highstrung or nauseated. i'm thinking that maybe in a few hours when the stores open i might try to go shopping so i can binge. 24 hr stores aren't common here, although they recently started allowing sunday shopping.
i think there were a couple of parties nearby tonight. i heard some kind of excitement.. loud voices, maybe cheering.. maybe it was a group of friends watching some sporting event together? i don't know, it sounded like there was abundant drunkenness. and music as well.
i was at a bbq party recently when gk and i were travelling. it was at his family's place. at one point, one of the neighbours at the party started asking me a lot of questions, was very persistent. gk was immediately protective. the neighbour wanted me to answer for myself. i can't remember how it all went. he asked me if i liked being mysterious. i replied that i didn't have any particular need to be mysterious. 'but do you like it?' so, i thought about it, and i suppose that some part of me likes the idea of coming across that way, and so i hesitantly replied in the affirmative. 'but i'd rather be understood,' is what i wasn't collected enough to say, and i think that might have made a difference. anyway, i was grilled a long time about my history, lack of job history, my interests and whatnot. i was even asked 'what do you see yourself doing in 5 years?' no hesitation: 'i don't see myself being alive in 5 years.' i don't think he was being an idiot, and i don't think he was intrusive. if people want to know something, i sort of admire that they have the guts to ask. i don't like the idea of people thinking i'm so fragile that i can't be asked anything or i'll kill myself. it's true that i dread situations like that, but i don't harbour ill will toward those who ask. it's just uncomfortable trying to explain how i really feel because i can't justify why i'm still alive. it's like any conversation like this will remind me of how helpless i feel, how unable to live the way i think i think.
last year, when gk and i went to new zealand, we were planning to do the tongarriro crossing (don't know about the spelling), which would take us in view of some of the scenes in the various lord of the rings movies, including mount doom. i had this idea that when we got to 'mount doom' (a volcano that i've forgotten the name of, and that i'm currently too lazy to look up) that i would take off my wedding ring and throw it in, as a kind of symbolic gesture. not just related to my marriage, but to everything. no more doing the practical thing, the thing determined by my weaknesses. i would live the way i thought, and if that meant i'd become homeless or die alone or whatever, at least i'd do it as myself, as who i thought i was. i think if i explained it that gk would understand. i would go off immediately on my own, and just see what happened next. but when we came to the trail, visibility was poor, conditions were harsh, all the people we saw looked exceptionally miserable, and we didn't feel up to it. and so, it was put on hold. will i ever just up and decide 'no more'? anyway, back to the bbq..
i had a feeling that when this person learned enough, when he'd solved enough of the 'mystery' to satisfy himself that he wasn't missing out on anything, when he realized i wasn't sufficiently alive enough or striking enough to interest him, he would just drop things. of course, as usual i unfortunately have to have conscious awareness of this kind of 'dismissal', and i guess in this situation i just decided to get it over with. i know there's nothing i can do about it. i'm not really alive, as far as i can tell. i have some understanding about what i could say or do to advance conversation, start/keep friendships, etc, but for me at this point, it all involves making an effort to be something i'm not. to pretend to have interests, passions, something. to be aware of form, of the things that need to be said, the actions that need to be performed to feed a friendship. to find ways of telling my details that make it all seem either charmingly mysterious, or brush off as much as i can lightly, and i do have a good chance to do that, because i'm in a new country, where no one knows me and i can pretty much make up anything i like. but i don't want to. it's not even just that, it's that i couldn't, even if i wanted to. i might be able to find the energy for a very short period of time, but before long, the stress of trying to hide the huge gaping empty hole that is me would just be too difficult.
afterward, gk was upset on my behalf, and i later learned that so was his mother, but to me it was no big deal. it's like i have so little contact with the world that i've lost a certain sense of reality. it all feels like some weird game, or it's surreal. it was like i just answered questions in my usual way. painfully sincere, but not quite mentally quick enough, not able to organize info efficiently enough to deal with the situation more quickly. i feel a bit mean.. i'm not sure how to make it clear that i understand that he was an ok person, and he was actually showing an interest in me. it's like i know from the start that there's not going to be a point of contact between me and others, or that if there is one initially, i can already see why it's not going to last long. it's not about self-doubt. it's about being realistic.
that was the first time we'd visited his relatives in two years. in another few months, we're going back for a wedding. i'm a bit self-conscious about spoiling things with my presence. i really don't mean to sound that way.. there is an aspect of truth in it though about how i feel. i'm a temporary member of the family. if they don't like me, i can't blame them. i can't see how anyone could help but be suspicious of me. they've always treated me very well, though.
i'm not sure what time the stores open. maybe in about 6 1/2 hours. i'd prefer to shop at night, but they'll close before it's dark. i'll have to wear something that makes me as inconspicuous as possible. and loose. i've been out of control for a few weeks now. i feel huge and unutterably hideous. i have bags under my eyes. maybe i'll wear sunglasses. i thought i was going to be able to get things under control within a few days, but it's like things have gotten worse and worse, and at this point i'm feeling so low that i can't figure out how to dredge up any sort of comforting thought. i can't daydream about anything. it's like any direction my thoughts go in, if it's remotely pleasant, it's like immediately i can't stop thoughts that feel like a punishment. i don't know how to distract myself. i don't know how many hours i just sit in this unendurable state, i don't know why it doesn't kill me. for a while, i had somehow found some way of coping, but i can't get back to it.
today would have been my mother's 58th birthday. she died when she was 37, the age i will be in a few days. consciously, i didn't feel guilt over her early death, but i do remember having a dream about her at a time i was pretty much incapacitated by depression. at the time, i had been mercilessly biting my lips over and over, and they were often bleeding. i had never done anything like that in my life, not to that extent, and i never have since. they were full of scabs, very sore. in the dream, my mother was a frightful wraith, and her mouth was a big bloody hole streaming blood as she screamed: YOU KILLED ME, AND NOW I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! and she attacked me. i said, no it's not true, i didn't kill you, and in the dream i consciously believed what i was saying, and i struggled with her, trying to call on all the strength i had so she wouldn't kill me, but she was very powerful, and in the end i wasn't sure who would prevail. when i woke from that dream, i thought it was extremely weird, because i didn't remember ever having any conscious thoughts along those lines at all.
if i stay here long enough to get a permanent visa, it's like i will be the same age she was when she died, right to the day.
my father's father died young, and when my father was approaching the same age, he kept thinking he too would die young. and it was like every time he laid out tarot cards, the death card came up, and he seemed to think it meant actual physical death for him, not a major life change.. (ok, i think i'm giving an impression here that i'm not meaning to.. he was very into that sort of thing at the time, and i was accepting of it.) and i remember at his birthday party.. the music was so loud, and my father kept wanting to hear blue oyster cult's 'don't fear the reaper'... and i sort of wonder.. if some of my romantic ideas about death may have somehow been influenced by my father? he came pretty close to dying right after my mother's death, and before his accident, he was often saying things like he still loved her.. i can't remember much else of what he said at that time. so he lived to be older than his father, and perhaps his depression worsened. i do remember comments about not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.
i guess my words don't convey the sort of state i'm in. i guess that's my curse. i think it's going to be a long night. i guess writing is something to do.