scared and cold

2003-05-04T23:10:00.000-07:00

We had Lark's birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's today. Loud, bright, full of motion and commotion and people talking and did I mention LOUD? It's physically painful for me to be that overstimulated. Ugh. But the kids loved it, which makes up for my discomfort.

2003-05-02T15:58:00.000-07:00

I saw the ENT. He said that the sore on my tongue looked healed, and he saw nothing suspicious. I suppose that's a weight off my mind...

No, actually, I guess it isn't. See, if I knew I was in the process of winding down this life, I'd be able to prioritize so much more easily. Which is more important, visit Europe or go to college? well, if I'm not looking at having to support myself for the next indefinite number of years, Europe wins. If not, I have to think, really think, about what I'm going to do...how I'll ever be able to live on my own. I'm so worried that I'll sink in this sink-or-swim world; I fear I'll never be able to retire, or buy a house, or that I won't be able to afford the costly health and dental care I'll require. If I knew I'd be dead in, say, four years, I wouldn't have to worry about my friends dying before I do and leaving me alone. I wouldn't have to worry that by the time I'm sixty there will be cures for everything but nobody except multi-millionaires will be able to afford them.

Oh, for the certainty of terminality, I guess.

2003-04-30T22:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow--well, I guess now I mean today--I see the ENT. I'm scared. It's not that I'm scared about the possibility of dying; I've dealt with that before. I'm scared of what may happen to me *before* i die. I'm drinking a lot of beer tonight in an attempt not to be so scared...

2003-04-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

There are two extremely cute baby cottontail rabbits living under my porch. Both were out today, chasing each other through the yard. I put out some pieces of bread, but I don't think they took them. If I were going to be here much longer I'd love to get the rabbits accustomed to me, maybe even tame them...

Something reminded me of Gena today. I wonder how she's doing? I heard she's living with someone--maybe married now. I wonder if he loves her, if he's an abusive ass like the boyfriends I saw her with were. She had a problem of confusing love and hate, believing, I think, that if a guy hated her in just the right way, his love would consume them both. A couple of weeks ago I thought of sending her a book that I think she'd relate to, but I hesitated. What if she doesn't remember me? What if she doesn't want to think about it anymore? The book's still packaged, with a nice chatty hi-how-are-you letter in it, inside my car.

Maybe someday I'll send it. I'm not sure.

2003-04-28T21:56:00.000-07:00

Feeling terribly insecure and under-confident today. What if I can't handle living on my own? I'm scared...

2003-04-24T23:07:00.000-07:00

Otter took Lark to a Cubs game and then to the Bucks playoff game. They were gone most of the day and night, so Lark and I sat at home watching cartoons and playing. Lark told me this joke: "Why does T-Rex go to the bathroom?" Me: "I dunno, why?" Lark: "He has to POOP!" He thought this was hilariously funny. I love four-year-old humor.

Tonight I'm drinking a little too much. I've been stressing over the Evergreen thing and the cancer thing, so I'm trying to obliterate my worries with Guinness. It is helping.

2003-04-23T19:19:00.000-07:00

Busy day. I took the kids up to the Public Museum to see the replica of Sue the T-Rex with their cousins. We all had a good time, and I didn't get lost, even with all that freeway driving. As a bonus, I got to talk in-depth with Otter's aunt, who is a psychologist and interested in many of the same big questions I am. The one that's compellingly on my mind these days is whether consciousness is created by the brain, or is "located" somewhere else. I want to believe that consciousness is holographic, pure information not tied to matter or energy-as-physics-knows-it, and that this point-of-consciousness I think of as "me" will go on after my brain no longer exists. Much of the time, I do manage to believe it; but then some days, like today, my skeptical side takes over and I start thinking, if selfhood isn't created by the brain, why does brain damage affect personality? Unfortunately, no one else has figured out the answer either--at least not in a way that can be proven.

I really wish someone could tell me, "Relax, the best is yet to come," and make it be true.

2003-04-20T20:00:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure the sore on my tongue is bad news. It has developed a crack along its surface, which is exactly what the cancer looked like. I'm going to try to move my ENT appointment to earlier in May and insist on a biopsy. Even if nothing can be done, I have to know...My intuition is telling me it is a recurrence; a second primary tumor, the thing that usually gets head-and-neck cancer victims. I have a feeling that I won't last five years.

And I'm not sure how I feel about that. Relieved? Annoyed? Scared?

2003-04-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling wretched.

I'm visiting my parents this weekend; my sister is here; the kids are with me.

There was an ad in the paper for cheap cockatiels. Since I'm feeling lonesome, I wanted to get one; but I chatted with hubby and he doesn't want any pets in his house. That led to a discussion of when I will move out. I think he wants me gone sooner, rather than later.

I'm this close |<->| to saying, screw education and just deciding to stay with hubby and drag him to counseling 5 days a week if need be until we can find a way to be in love again. No one will ever be as close with me as he is; no one will ever be able to know me as well as him...I'm still in love with him, and I don't know how to make that go away even though he isn't in love with me.

Add to that, I'm stressing over something that I probably shouldn't mention because I don't want to worry everyone...but...I have a sore spot on my tongue. It's on the side opposite the side I had cancer on. When I saw the ENT about it a month ago he said it looked like an apthous ulcer (one of the things the cancer was assumed to be in its early stages, too) and I shouldn't worry; but to me it feels and looks just like the early stage of cancer did. I see the ENT again on May 13. If it is cancer again, I have really tough decisions to make. I mean, suppose I only have four or five years left? Do I really want to spend them working on building a career that I'll never survive to work at? Would I be throwing away my marriage for nothing but a long and lonely end?

I'm so, so out of place here with my family; and I can't tell them the terrible things I'm worrying about.

2003-04-18T23:34:00.000-07:00

I spent the day driving up to visit my parents. I'm not used to such long drives, and it really wore me out.

Had terrible nightmares this morning, images I can't stop thinking about. I wish sleeping were easier...

2003-04-17T22:07:00.000-07:00

We went out to dinner tonight with Otter's parents. They don't know about Evergreen yet. Or at least, I think they don't know...They were talking about going to Florida, and I remembered that night Otter and I were in Sarasota. It was such a perfect, warm night; we'd had fun that day; the kids were asleep, and we sat having a beer on the motel balcony, looking at the moon over the sea. I remember thinking that it couldn't get any better than that moment--us in love, the sea air, the kids peacefully sleeping. I thought, If my life ends now I will go happy, while everything is good.

That was before everything started to go so horribly wrong, of course.

I think if they'd dropped the Bomb that night and the world ended, it might have been a good thing...

2003-04-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what to do. I just found out I got re-accepted at Evergreen, but when I talked to Otter about it he said that he wouldn't want me to move back in with him if I go out there for a quarter or two. So I have to decide between this marriage and my education...and I don't even know if the marriage can be saved, or if it is worth saving. Otter is so dissatisfied by it, and I'm not sure if I can give him the things he wants.

But no one will ever love me the way he does...did, I guess. Did. Nobody else will be able to know everything about me all at once and love me wholly. Choosing to go will mean choosing to be single, to make it--or not--on my own from now on, and I don't know if I can make it...Without Otter, chances are I'll never own a house or be able to retire when I get old.

And again, that's if I get old. I'm still looking at a less-than-fifty-percent chance of reaching the age of fifty. But who will care for me if the cancer recurs, if I am alone? Who will sit with me on days I'm too tired to move? Who will tell me I have to eat even if I don't want to?

If I go, I go knowing that there's nobody to catch me if I fall. And I'm terrified of that. I guess the only thing to do is make damn sure I don't fall...

2003-04-14T07:56:00.000-07:00

I found my old "Man of La Mancha" tape and I've been listening to it while I drive again. I love having showtunes on while I'm driving; they make me feel good. Anyway, it got me to thinking, if I had to be a character from Don Quixote, you know who I'd like to be? Sancho. Where Don Quixote himself is unable to see reality, and Aldonza is unable to see the fantasy world, only Sancho has the freedom to move between the two at his own discretion.

2003-04-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to my first demonstration here. It wasn't that big; I think there were probably about ten people there. Nonetheless it was fun and I got to meet some of the local peace activists, including one who runs the blog Progressive Racine. The kids were pretty bored by the whole thing, though Lark brought a balloon. Lark sat in a car with his new friend Sajid through most of it, while Riley stood out with the adults and held a sign. A few people yelled rude things at us, and Ry thought that was pretty funny. There was a very small clump of pro-war demonstrators right down the street from us.

After that, we went to the zoo. It was too cold and windy to stay long, but it was fun anyway.

Today I took the kids to the park. Ry got motion sick on the merry-go-round and neither kid wanted to leave when it was time to go! It was warmer today but the wind was still chilly.

Otter has spent both weekend days at home, doing work. I really wish he didn't have to do that. I want him to come have fun with us, too...it would be nice for us, and probably good for him.

2003-04-10T20:24:00.000-07:00

Tonight the school my kids go to had Rocket Night. We got to make air-propelled paper rockets and nifty little popping rockets made of a film canister, Alka-Seltzer, and water. What you do is this: Take the film canister and fill it half-full with water. Add a quarter of an Alka-Seltzer tablet and put the cover on the canister. Now shake it and set it down, cap down. Step back and wait. Flies up to the ceiling with a satisfying pop!

There was a guy there with liquid nitrogen, too. I intend to buy some of that stuff myself; it's so much fun to freeze and shatter things!

2003-04-09T11:25:00.000-07:00

The spring I was pregnant with Riley, I was living in West Seattle in what we called the "spider house." (There were always these long-legged spiders hanging around the corners of the ceiling in the morning. Even now, that particular variety of spider gives me the creeps.) Anyway, I was so happy to be pregnant, and it was a fun time. Every day I would walk down toward the Junction to my friend's house, and she and I would go play together. I'd walk to her house, along the street lined with cherry trees. The cherries were blooming, dropping the little pink-white petals all over the ground. I always thought, These trees will always be different. I'll never see cherries in blossom the same way again.

It is about time for the cherry trees in Seattle to bloom again.

There aren't any flowers here. Just snow. I am so homesick.

2003-04-07T23:41:00.000-07:00

Whew. I just finished doing a huge redesign on my personal site...I feel so productive now!

Today it was snowy and windy--thoroughly nasty weather. I hate these late blizzards. T.S. Eliot said, "April is the cruelest month," and boy was he right. Just close enough to spring to rouse hope, but still winter enough to dash that hope.

As I write this there's a rabbit shoveling through the snow on the porch, eating the birdseed there. He keeps looking at me with suspicion, as if I might lunge for him at any moment. I'm sleepy but too keyed-up from the task of fixing my site to go to bed yet. I might write that email I keep putting off, but I'm so apprehensive about starting it. See, there was a mailing list I was on a while back, and I ended up getting removed from it by a moderator who thought I might be a security risk. Now the list's original owner and moderator is back, and he knows me better than the one who kicked me off does, and I think if I ask nicely, with some character references from a couple of people I know, he might let me back in...but I'm afraid that even if he does I won't be really welcome there, and that would break my heart because that particular list was a haven for me at times. Every time I think about starting that email my palms get sweaty. The ironic thing is, getting kicked off that list led me to meet a bunch of people I now consider close friends. I'm now on their mailing list; but there are still some things I think I would be more comfortable venting about on the list I used to be on.

2003-04-04T12:27:00.000-08:00

We had a couple of nice days here, but today it's pissing rain and cold and windy. The sky's that color of grey that allows no shading, like a dull sheet stretched between horizons. You can't even see a bright spot where the sun is. I wish I could get in an airplane and power through these clouds, up to where the sky is dark blue and ground-anchored worries fall away. I want to be going somewhere. I want to have velocity and destination.

2003-04-02T13:29:00.000-08:00

In therapy today, we talked about the fact that I feel unable to protect myself. I have this raging anxiety at the core of my being, this certainty that disaster is about to happen, and that to be safe I need someone else to protect me from it. The only way I could imagine making myself safe, alone, would be maybe if I had millions and millions of dollars.

My therapist has asked me to challenge that assumption, but I don't know how, any more than I know how to assure myself that I'm okay the way I am, and don't need to be perfectly beautiful. Maybe I start by asking myself what would haoppen if I couldn't take care of myself, and I had no one to help me. Okay, I might not be able to make any money. What then? My first thought is, "I'd die," but of course it isn't that simple, since real death isn't something I'm terribly afraid of. I think what I'm scared of is disappearing. I'm scared of not mattering...of being forgotten...I'm...

What IS it I'm scared of?

2003-04-01T10:45:00.000-08:00

I went to the dentist today. That spot where it feels like there's a chip out of my front tooth isn't a problem; but the fact that it throbs in pain suggests to the dentist that I will need a root canal. FUCK. He can't, or won't, use nitrous during a root canal because it's such a long procedure; and he won't put me under Versid for it because he says it isn't such a big deal that I would need Versid. Like he knows what I need...I ended up sobbing uncontrollably right there, which no doubt doesn't help because now he'll think I'm just hysterical. I wish I didn't have phobias. I wish I were just normal like everybody else gets to be. I wish I could take all this uncomfortable stuff inside my head and splatter it all over the fucking wall with a .45 caliber bullet.

2003-03-31T07:34:00.000-08:00

Pictures of the war continue to show up, unbidden, when I turn on the TV.

Today I read about the scene of a firefight on a bridge. One of the soldiers talked about a little girl, dead next to her dead father. She had a pretty dress, he said. The father was a civilian; they were fleeing. I suppose someone gave an order to shoot them, and a soldier, an American boy not so much older than my American boys, shot her.

I used to take some vague comfort in the idea that things had changed, that maybe if a commander gave the order to kill a little girl in a pretty dress, the man with the gun could refuse. I even talked to some soldiers in chat about that, because you know I used to be scared of soldiers and anyone else who wore uniforms. When I'm scared of someone I always try to talk to them--that way, I can see if I need to be scared or not; and if I do need to be scared, and I make them my friend, maybe I won't need to be scared anymore...Anyway, the soldiers I chatted with all said that they wouldn't shoot an unarmed little girl, not even if their commanding officers told them to. I wonder, now, how many of them were lying?

2003-03-29T11:58:00.000-08:00

Otter has to work today. I can't help thinking that we're just slipping back into our old patterns: he's at work because he can't stand to be at home, and I'm on the computer because he's at work...Last night I was feeling sick and I really wanted spaghetti with garlicy white sauce. I've had a monster craving for this sauce (it's just a basic roux, I boil the garlic in the margarine first, then add cornstarch, bring back to a boil and add hot soymilk) for about a week now. Anyway, as I started cooking it, Otter said, "I'm so fucking sick of smelling garlic." To me that kind of sums it up...the thing is, I take up space, I have habits that annoy him, I eat foods he doesn't like, and in general I am another whole person in his territory, and I don't think he can stand it. At least not for much longer.

Too bad, because I just found a counselor here that I like, who I think can help me with this hopeless, desolate feeling I've had lately. The inside of my head is hell. No matter how good everything seems to be objectively, I walk around with three pounds of dystopia for a brain. Even in the best of times it gets to me; when it seems the outer world is also collapsing, it's just too much. I used to think that maybe depressives were better than normal at surviving difficult times, because after all we deps are used to it...but now I think that maybe deps break even easier than normals. I am so screwed.

2003-03-27T18:23:00.000-08:00

I'm sick again. I think it's just a cold. And I'm feeling depressed. The war and everything else...

2003-03-26T21:07:00.000-08:00

We went to see The Bob. There was an endless line of excited kids with tired parents, teenagers in Spongebob shirts, and mothers holding tiny babies. It stretched from one end of the mall to the other. I like lines even less than I like crowds in general (being a short person, I end up looking at a wall of backs and shoulders, and people trip over me). Fortunately I was able to amuse myself by watching my younger son, Lark (age 4) interact with other kids. While Riley (age 7) has learned to socialize like a pro, Lark's idea of a good way to meet someone is to stand in front of them in sumo-wrestling pose and swing his arms at them. Lark is an extremely tactile kid; he wants to touch you while he talks to you. Most children, as well as some adults, are a little taken aback by this cute, elflike kid who wants to crawl on top of them. But eventually they come around and really like Lark a lot.

Lark reserves his highest gesture of affection for me. He bites me. Every time I pick him up from school or childcare, it's the first thing he does. I don't discourage it because he doesn't hurt me and by now it's become a little ritual. There's no anger in it; to Lark, it's just the superlative of "kiss."

Anyway, the line was for pictures with Spongebob, but we were obviously not going to make it to the front of the line before Spongebob had to leave, so we got out of line and walked up to the roped-off area where Spongebob was greeting visitors. He eventually shook my kids' hands. Ry is old enough to know it's just a guy in a costume, so he was very unimpressed, but Lark thought he was meething The Real Thing, and got this look of almost-religious awe when Spongebob shook his hand. It was hella cute.

I'm sick; I can't deny it any longer. I feel like hell. My throat is sore, nose is running, and I think I have a fever. It might be SARS, that brand-new killer flu (killer cold, actually, according to latest reports). The mortality rate on that is pretty low (under 20%) but my immune system is still not running at full capacity, so I'd probably die of it if I caught it. Sometimes I really like to fantasize about dying of something natural. I like to imagine that people will be sad I'm dead, that they'll say nice things about me and someone will collect all my poems and publish them and I'll end up being as well-known as Emily Dickinson...Then I come down to reality, where dishes need to be done and lunches packed, and where I don't think many people would notice for long if I disappeared.

2003-03-26T16:13:00.000-08:00

First post, on my way to see Spongebob Squarepants in person at the mall.