I'm Sure This Will Sink In Later. - 4/30/2007 in 2005 - 2007: High School

My mother is in the hospital. My dad called this morning as I was waking up to say that he was at the hospital with her, that they'd taken an ambulance at two in the morning and that my mother was about to go into surgery. She'd been sick the day before, throwing up. He said it was something about her intestines. Then he asked me to look up the cell phone number of a guy he teaches with, so that he could call and ask him to cover his classes. Then he told me that there was lunch money on the counter. Then I went to school.

I guess I worried a little bit. Mostly I thought about how guity I would feel if my mother died. That's how I would feel: guilty. But for the most part I didn't think about it. I didn't feel anything. I just went to school and had a normal day during which I talked about stand-up comedians (music theory) stereotyped (humanities) heckled Bonnie while she tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong with our oscilloscope (elementary english) and failed a quiz (calculus).

I came home and called my dad at the hospital. My mom was out of surgery. She was still not really okay but not really not okay either. I went to therepy.

The New Ann seems to be trying to kick me out of therepy. She keeps saying that usually people give it eight to ten sessions, and if it's still not helping... Well, she phrases it so that she doesn't have to say what you do if it's still not helping. I have tried to ask her what it is that I am supposed to do, if it's not therepy. I have tried to explain to her that I don't really get much out of sessions either, and that sometimes I think that I don't need them and that I should stop going, but that then I end up on the bathroom floor in tears or in my mother's car soaking wet and cold from wandering around in the rain without a coat on, or I spend hours squeezing and pulling things out of my skin and I think, "Okay, this is a problem, and I can't deal with it. I have to DO something about it." And the only thing I can think of is going to therepy. These conversations have not really gone anywhere. I can never express myself the way I want to when I am actually there.

The New Ann has suggested that I try to stop seeing introversion as a bad thing. She says that I should get close to people if I want to, and not if I don't, and just accept that both of those things are okay. She thinks that one of my main problems is that I do not want to grow up. That is why sex freaks me out so much, especially sex between the two people closest to me. It is why I have chosen to fixate for two years upon someone who does not even read girls' t-shirts. (This last one is my inference, not hers. I haven't talked to her about Julian, even though I've wanted to.)

After that I went to rehearse playing a marching band member in the musical, which is High School Musical, which is this weekend. We go onstage three times and play something and walk off. I got there during a break.

"What's going on?" I said to anyone who was listening.

"We're on a break," said Dave.

"How's the musical?"

"Really lame," said Eric. "But I have a line!"

"What is it?"

"Uh..." said Eric.

"It's 'Come on Wildcats,'" said Dave.

"Right," said Eric. "Hey, do you guys want to play poker?"

"I kind of don't know how to play," I said.

"Psh. Hearts then?"

"Alright."

"Unfortunately, these are the only cards I have." He held them out. They said, "Sex in Ancient Greece" on them. On the package was an Ancient Greek, urn-type representation of Ancient Greeks having anal sex.

"Huh," I said.

"I got them for my birthday. I asked for sandals, but Zoe thinks it's funny to give me these. Hey Speedy, wanna play hearts with us?"

"Alright."

When Speedy saw the cards, he blushed furiously and played badly. The rest of us were giggly and kept saying things like, "What are they doing with the harp?" and "Is that even possible?" and "Oh, I get it, they're lesbians" which were really very funny if you couldn't see the pictures.

During the actual rehearsal, we played badly, looked awkward, and were constantly in the wrong place because no one would tell us what to do. The show might be a fiasco.

Dave drove me home and hung around while my dad was at the hospital. We talked about politics. These are never the best conversations, since Dave knows and cares much more about politics than I do. But at least we did not talk about college. There have been too many of those conversations as of late.

Okay, actually, we talked about college. But we did not talk about college for the entire time. And we also didn't talk sometimes, just sat around and drank milkshakes and listened to ska, and it was nice.

My dad is tired, and jumpier than normal. He is also not at all grouchy. I am getting the impression that he loves my mother, which I guess I never really doubted, but which is not usually obvious. They do not know when my mother will be able to come home, but it will be a while. She is in the intensive care unit and can't talk because she is hooked up to a breathing machine, even though she can breathe. Spending this much time with my dad should be interesting.

The New Ann also says that it is perfectly normal and acceptable not to be feeling much about my mother right now.

She will be okay.