It had to be done at some point. I had to go back and read the few entries that I wrote here not so long ago. The day will come when I need to go further back. The trouble now is that I want to go back to immediately prior to E (Ms E) but I had all but stopped writing in OD by the time I met E.
There’s a dog barking outside. I’m sure I read an account of someone who kept hearing a dog when the dog was something subconsciously calling for her attention and not just the son-of-sam and the demon dog.
I was surprised there were 12 entries because I only remember a maximum of 5 or 6. I knew that was entering surreal territory and that I had “not been myself” deliberately. I was being honest but I wasn’t feeling like myself either. I am confused still on this whole front.
From the outset of it in February, with Kathleen just about to die, (which I couldn’t have known), I was talking about death and accepting that death would be an end and nothing further happened except to dissolve. But it’s not suicidal. It’s not even a romantic notion of death. I’m just sitting on my train to work and sometimes, I’d cry. That reminds me that I don’t really suddenly cry in public so much this past while.
By March, Kathleen was gone. And the sense of un-reality that crept in somehow and is sometimes still present.
I’m talking about my painting class though which is odd because it’s only week or two after her death. But Jim stuggling to get though to Edward and both men becoming frustrated rattled me. Was it a reflection of something I felt that I’d seen with E and Kathleen? Or was it just that any stress was going to bother me? I felt for both but I was trying to protect or hide myself away.
April was definitely one of the surreal moments that I did remember writing almost like a chain of consciousness. But it is the start of the really un-real and surreal feelings. Or at least they seem nowto be what suspected though I owned the at the time. It’s not as scary when you read the whole thing through. It is mostly reasonable. I’m just sitting with a feeling and I can tell you the colours associated with it.
It is frustrating to type and have the cursor jump as it does in this MS Word document. I’m going to give up on going back to fix the problems it causes.
I feel totally different things these days that are more negative than an infatuation or love. I should own them as much as the positive surreal feelings. Can negative feels of suspicion, insecurity, and cynicism be surreal?
Later in April, I’m the Walking Dead and yet, I’m probably more awake now that it is November, darker and I’m sed to be injured, zombodic. Was reading this stuff a good idea really? That dog is still barking – the poor soul. I went out into the night to find him if he was nearby but he is up on the hill somewhere. He must be keeping them awake up there too. You’d think someone would do something. Poor animals – it’s freezing cold out there. Maybe he is in a shed or something and just loud? Ear plugs. I’m sorry dog. I’m deaf to your suffering or frustration. It’s horrendous.
Also in late April I’d begun to listen to TED talks more. I would tell E things and not really want to share them but feel a gap in conversation or a need to share it with someone. Habits. It’s actually an interesting word now you think about it. I had a habit of sharing things. I kept it up without my audience. I probably miss having someone to share my random thoughts with. But there’s the feeling that nobody will understand me anyway. I like my thoughts. But I don’t expect others to like them. Why did I bother telling her about the articles in Reader’s Digest? Did I tell her about essays; I think I did. Did she listen? I feel like nobody listens. There’s something wrong with anyone who does.
Ed said he read a type of diary written by his ex when he was trying to learn more about the affair. He describes her as cold and detached. Did he get that from her writing? You shouldn’t read a diary for that reason. What you share in words on a page is not always the whole thing. But the other thought was whether cold people keep diaries? Why would they? I have no other questions or curiosities about his ex partner’s diary or whatever it was.
It was also the time James went weird.
Least said, the better.
I don’t care about James and his wife. I really don’t care at all now.
And…all right. I know this is out of nowhere, but…at what point in a relationship is it normal to think about living together? Is…let’s say…buying a condo a sign that you want to move to that stage? Is that what an action like that might hypothetically be indicating? — Cecil Baldwin (Welcome to Night Vale ep: Condos)
Ththat actually came out of nowhere. But if I wrote that down on April 29th, then it was because there was a reason it was on my mind.
Why it was on my mind is a bit of a mystery to me now. My vague offering: People interpret things how they want to. Sometimes, an unconscious need or desire, or perhaps one that is semi-conscious, means they can see other meanings in a message or a word. It alarms my mature 36 year old self that I might be doing that.
My OCD seems a bit better too.
June. Not a good time for my mind.
I’ll try to make some sense of what I am saying/writing. I’m always very conscious that whether I am or not, I write like a mad woman these days. That is to say, when I write, I write erratic, sometimes disconnected, sentences about disparate things. It seems madness to think these things would be connected.
I fuckign hate that I said words she’d say about me here. She’d got her maggot thoughts burying into my brain and I said I was almost 40 and I said I was acting like a teenager. Reading that was like slapping myself in the face – like being incredibly disappointed in someone you’d invested great care and attention into. I’m trying to fix her now in my head and I’m telling her that I’m annoyed reading that but I’m feeling sorry for her too. And it’s hard to read the rest because it’s really just dwelling on negative things people say. It is ironic that it’s HER negative words – seemingly without my knowing they were hers – started the discussion on suspicions of negative words and actual negative words said to me by Pat Ingelsby. At July 9th I’m tired, the dog is still barking, the earplugs barely working, and my back is spasming a little. So I can’t go further and I need to think about things like how great it is that I can see how much negative crap was on my mind. Which I knew. And it was why I read this stuff.
Finding my voice. She’s in there. She’ll write again. I’ll find you. I’ll bring you back stronger.
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