Parallel to the ground

Tonight I went for a walk with L* and K* and I wanted to say, “I miss Dad,” but the words didn’t come out. Maybe because I knew that L* would say that she missed him too.

My dad and I weren’t close, but there’s something about not having a father that makes me feel empty. My mom lost her mom at age 94 and I know she feels the same. Losing a parent means losing a part of yourself. You have memories, but it’s not the same.

A few days later

I went through a really bad funk for a few days. Seem to be better today. Stayed in bed until about 2:30pm. Didn’t push myself until my body was ready to get up and move on. It’s not a matter of being lazy, but allowing my body to take its time. Forcing myself will only result in more anxiety. Of course not forcing myself out leaves me less time to complete class work. Trying to do class work while in a funk is useless.

I have to give myself permission to regroup and hope that those around me understand. The most important thing for me when I’m having an episode of anxiety is to feel safe and not pushed. Facing the world in the middle of an anxiety episode will only make it worse, not take my mind off of it. A person that does not experience debilitating anxiety will not understand this. They will tell me to push through it or you’ll feel better if you go outside. No, no I won’t. Until I find the right medication to alleviate the symptoms of anxiety, then respecting my body is the only way to go.

On the relationship front, Fisher and I agree that long distant relationships suck. However, I seem to need more communication than him. Fuck if I know what’s going on his head. When we’re together, it’s awesome. Two people, one mind, that kinda stuff. But apart it gets all funky. We’ve been through this- for 15 freakin’ years. I need more than he’s able to give. Ok, yes, when we first started dating, I was obsessively needy in a very bad way. Now, I’d like for him to respond to my emails, which are 3 at max/week. How about a conversation to touch base once a week?

Sure, in a year maybe we’ll be able to live together. Facts are, though, that neither of us knows where we’ll be. I don’t like the idea of moving back to College Town, USA. Mental ickness. I’d like to get out of the Midwest. I’d love to go back to the west coast, but it’s so damn expensive. East coast might me ok, but I really do not like cold.

When I come out of it and I’m parallel to the ground, I feel stable. Why can’t I just stay this way? Where would I be if I weren’t fighting this sh*t? I’d be on Broadway putting my talents to use. The anxiety negates any artistic talent I have. And I have talent.