I wasn't planning on writing this right now. It's not exactly the ideal time. I'm lying in my ex-husband's house (well, soon to be ex-husband) on his new couch in the dark at 12:04 AM when I know I should be sleeping. I was sleeping about 10 minutes ago, or at least on the verges of sleep when everything melts down to the fuzzy and confused place I go when I'm right between sleep and awake. I laid down here with the best of intentions. I was going to write, but my eyes started closing, and my laptop seemed like entirely too much effort to reach for. I'm recovering from being sick; I need my sleep. I'm sure you understand. I went to sleep with my hand just a few inches from my phone. It wasn't on purpose. I keep my phone near me at all times. It's a habit of mine, and I've been especially neurotic about it the past 2 months, with good reason.
As I was saying, I wasn't planning on writing this right now, but my phone rang, and I'm awake. 6 minutes and 4 seconds on the phone, and my mind is more active than I wish it was. It's 12:08 AM now. I really should be asleep.
This story, although it involves a boy, doesn't revolve around a boy. It's my story, too, which makes that all the more surprising. If you've read this for a while or if you know me at all (and you probably think you do), you know that this is abnormal. Most of my drama centers around a boy. Most of my life decisions have been made based around boys. It's a fault of mine; I know. I tend to get swept up in the moment. I'm more dramatic than I have any right to be. As much as I plan out every aspect of my life in graphs and charts and bulleted lists, all of it gets thrown to the side when I get caught up in the moment. I'd say I'm getting better, but that line always reminded me of the not-quite-dead man in Monty Python. So let's just say, I haven't given up hope yet.
I'm taking a long time to even get started. I think I need to ramble. I need to let myself build up to the point, because I haven't entirely decided what the point is. I don't even know what the story is. I'm just typing as I go. I was thinking about this and talking to myself in the drive over here, earlier. Driving has always been one of the most relaxing times of day for me. It was until I broke my car, that is. Driving hella fast on the Interstate singing along with the music of the moment - it's a great time to puzzle out whatever is on my mind. It's soothing to me. I just told my Powerbook to 'Learn Spelling' of 'hella'. I feel like I just did something wrong.
I stopped smoking this morning. When Mike was driving me to work, we stopped at the dumpster at my apartment complex, and I made a little ceremony of tossing out my last 2 packs of Djarum Blacks. I might have thought a little longer about doing this if I had realized that I was actually addicted to smoking. On second thought, if I knew I was addicted, I probably would have stopped a long time ago. I deplore the thought of being addicted to something. Really, it's not as big a deal as you'd think. Quitting smoking was more symbolic to me than anything else. I've been bitchy and on edge all day, but I do a good job of keeping it in. People on IRC suffer my +b rage, but the negative energy has to flow somewhere.
While I was driving here, I thought about the reasons I quit smoking. Inconvenience was a part of it. There's only 4 places I can list off the top of my head that sell my cloves here in Atlanta. I have a hard enough time making it to my mailbox on a regular basis, much less some smoke shop. Money was also no small influence in my decision. Now that I've taken such a large pay cut, I really can't afford the $4-$6/pack that's charged, regardless of how little I smoke. Health may have been a factor, but I can't say that it was on my mind when I threw the cigarettes away. I think the main reason I quit was for Mike. He's working so hard on cleaning up his life and getting rid of all the negative things surrounding him; when I look at him I feel proud of him for trying. He makes me want to be a better person. I won't say that I want to do these things just for him, because that's not quite true. I have other reasons that don't involve him whatsoever that I'm not even going to go into here. I've been thinking this for a few days now, and I'm still recovering. Wanting to be a better person because of someone is no small thing, at least not in my book. That said, let's get on to non-boy-related matters.
The later part of the evening, I was fighting the violent urge I sometimes get. That insane burst of energy where I just want to throw myself against the wall, throw things at people, twirl, scream, dance, whatever. Once again, Alfred's great all-encompassing word - 'thrash'. Tonight was definitely a thrash night. I don't think it was the lack of nicotine. I think it had more to do with the culmination of events. There's so much going on right now, not just with me but with everyone close to me. I'm trying to be there emotionally for everyone because there's not much else I can do. It's taking a lot out of me. I am stressing about little things, I'm crying so easily, I'm being even more unreasonable than usual. The two week unemployment period was no vacation. I should have enjoyed it while it lasted. sigh.
I was fighting this feeling as I was driving home. I kept thinking that even though I threw away all my cigarettes, I have booze, I have other forms of entertainment and intoxication. I resisted, though. This little internal war made me realize something I'd been refusing to face.
Back in 7th grade English AP class, our teacher used to draw the plot of a novel on the white-board, representing the timeline with little mountains. Each big event would have a peak (climax), and you'd of course have the sloping line with supporting events coming down on both sides. I feel like I'm nearing one of those peaks, but I've got two lines to choose from when I get to the top. One is going to end in stability; the other in violence and bloodshed. Violence is generally how most things in my life end. Let's face it: no one gets out of my life until someone gets seriously hurt. Usually the someone is me, although there's been a notable exception or two.
I feel like I'm headed towards the more positive ending. Especially with Mike around, I think I'm starting to straighten things out. I just want to stand on my own two feet. I want to be stable. I want to have all my shit fixed. I want to be devoid of issues (but then, what will I write about?). I want to be proud of the situation in which I have worked to put myself in. I can't really say that I have cared that much before about the big picture, but I'm certainly thinking about it now.
I've been drug/alcohol free for 13 days. I've not had a cigarette in 28 hours. I'm still a shadow of my former self after that bug hit me this weekend, but I'm recovering. I think after it goes away, I might feel pretty good about being me.
Mike just called to wish me good night. Hearing his voice gave me butterflies in my stomach and made me smile. The new-relationship shine (similar to new-car smell) is mostly gone, but I adore him and his voice effects me powerfully bad. I think I can sleep. It's 12:44 AM now. I lack internet here, so I'll post this in the morning. It's nice having a blog to dump things on. It's like having a shrink, except you don't have to pay the $200/hour - only the $129/month fee for hosting the server. Next on the agenda, see if Blue Cross/Blue Shield P.P.O. can cover my hosting fees. Rock.
