Letter to Kevin:
Alex and I got a dog…a little Boston terrier…We named him Baudelaire. Yes, we named him after the French prose poet. Snobs are we. Well-read snobs. I now have to set about training the dog, but other than that, I’m quite madly in love with the little monster! Dogs are wonderful b/c even if they think you’re an asshole, they can’t tell you why.
And ok, yes. there are ulterior motives. Ulterior, ulterior motives.
The other day, Alex and I fought a tooth-and-nail fight about moving in together. He told me he didn’t want to LET me move in because of my BAD ATTTUDE. Never mind the fact that I shop/cook/clean for him and drive him all over God’s Green Earth and that I am never MEAN like he is to me. But like I said–NEVER MIND! So I figured that if I buy a dog, he loves dogs and he can’t have them at his apt, so either he’ll find a new apt where the dog and I can move in–or he won’t be seeing me or the dog and then, hey, at least I got a new friend out of the deal.
The dog definitely helped me manage my May 4th this year. Usually I sit there on my anniversary of my suicide attempt and wonder why I am still here when I quite clearly was not meant to be. Then I sit and feel bad about myself. Ungrateful. This year I bought a dog to sink all the love that I have into. Progress? I think so.
And
While we’re on this unpleasant topic–I really hope you don’t think–or–rather–I really hope you don’t BELIEVE that you were partially responsible for what happened with the whole suicide attempt. You were not. Please believe me when I say this. I remember that night you mentioned in your letter very clearly. What were you supposed to do? What could you have said? I would’ve stuck to my story that I was fine and how were you ever to know when I was lying? I didn’t even know I was lying. I knew I was sick, but I really didn’t plan on attempting to kill myself when I did. It was a surprise even to me that everything happened so fast. I didn’t even write a letter till after I took the pills. So how could you have known? How could you have saved me from myself? I in no way hold you responsible. I never have. I never will. And you shouldn’t either. All I can tell you to make you feel better is that I am trying to do better, be better. For you. For everyone who tried for me and wanted me to get better. It’s weird. Whenever I get suicidal and am thinking about leaving this earth, I get sad about leaving my nieces and my friends, but with Alex, I don’t really worry. I always feel like he’ll manage without me. Is that weird? I dunno. I am weak, Kevin. I do not have any respect for myself and am unable to forgive myself for my sins and all the abuse from my childhood. I tend to recreate all that abuse daily by being relentless on myself. Still, on the whole, I’d like to think that I’m going up or at least maintaining a sideways position.
And you know, you’re the only person–besides Bernhards/Alex–who have ever spared an I’M PROUD OF YOU for me. Thank you.
May 6th-
My nieces were over today. I enjoyed playing with them-but I’ve discovered that I’m not cut out to be around children. I mean, I’m good with kids, but I only have so much patience before I need a time out. I will be a horrible and selfish mother some day. Some day…
May 9th- I bought my dog a sailor outfit today. Yes. I’m one of those crazy people who mistake their dog for their child. I’m sorry–but come on, a sailor outfit. The clothes they make are just too damn cute. Actually, that’s kind of how I wound up with the dog, too–he was just too damn cute. I wish someone would say that about me, I bought the girl a mansion she was just too damn cute. Unlikely. But we are all allowed a dream, I suppose.
I am ready to quit my job. I am a prime, grade a quitter. I dread every day…ready to start practicing karate moves on the staff…they are so f*ing mean to me…and I am way too sensitive to deal with it. I don’t know how to BE stronger around these workplace bullies. I always feel like such a child b/c my feelings get hurt so easily..no matter how hard I try to be an adult. I guess some people are not meant to be part of the world. Just like Seymour Glass from the Salinger short story, “A Perfect Day For Bananafish.“ If you haven’t read it, please do. It’s in 9 Stories. Poor Seymour was just too damaged to stay in this world…too sensitive to everything but most of all beauty that no one else understood…I can’t even talk about the story without crying. I can’t explain it. It’s what I referenced in my suicide note. (Sorry to keep bringing this up…it’s that time of year…I feel connected to my past.) Seymour had so much to share and no one to share it with, no one who understood him, except a little girl named Sybil that he meets on the beach, while on honeymoon. His last act is to go home and sit on the bed across from his new bride…and he blows his brains out, while she lays there sleeping. It’s really a terrifically dreadful last act…full of hatred…probably his only hateful act. I tried to do that, too…but I wasn’t Seymour Glass either, I guess. More Holden Caulfield. Anyway, please read it. You’ll never understand what the hell I’m talking about (not just now, but in general) till you read that story!
May 10th- Car broke down again today. 3rd time in 2 weeks. I’m drinking, listening to Morning Yearning by Ben Harper and all-around depressed. (You probably hate Ben Harper–but Morning Yearning is so fucking beautiful I can’t stand it!) What are you listening to these days? You’d laugh if I told you so my lips are sealed…
Been trying to finish up a second book of poetry…I need 2 more poems before I put it into collection…could take a while. My bipolar disorder gets worse continually because I refuse to take my medication and so, this is what happens, my head gets screwy and up and down and I can’t concentrate or I’m so depressed that I can’t think…but I’m 2 poems away…so hopefully before the end of the summer. Did you ever get the 1st book of poetry I released? I only ask
b/c there’s a poem to you in there. About that time we walked to the over pass, when I was drunk, and we watched the cars. I will have to have a copy sent to you of the collection of poetry. There’s also 3 books of letters online…but they’re expensive and long (400-600 pages each with all the letters I wrote to all my friends from 2004 to 2008!) Anyway, I included a recent poem I wrote about another patient from the hospital I was in, in Utica. When I met Alex. I would include others but I’m sure you would disapprove of subject matter. I’m not very nice in my poetry. I do things like lust after my professors and assassinate my ex-friends’ characters. Write about personal fights that I have with my boyfriend. Things like that. Ha.
THE TRICK IS IN THE DEALING
The boy named Gabe had a trick
he called
unearthing the aces
Like most things, the key to the trick
was all
in the dealing
And he shuffled those cards-
the sound;
a souvenir of hummingbirds
After dinner he’d find our aces
because
we all needed the wonder of it
In his hand, a pregnant girlfriend
the queen
that he didn’t really love but he
never talked about it or why
he was
there with us, showing off his trick
one night I asked what had happened
to him
and suddenly we were just 2 patients
looking down at a card I didn’t pick
but the one
that had been found, ah, that three of clubs.
Ok, Kev, this oughta do it, I guess…all my best wishes are with you.
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