Swimming Home in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

I’m enjoying the very last indulgences of my Christmas holiday (french fries and chocolate! I’m even skipping the kickboxing class tonight), for tomorrow it’s back to the grind for me. Oh. Woe.

I cannot tell you how sad I am that this holiday season is winding down. I just spent the most emotion-filled week surrounded by old friends and new as well as my family. I had such an amazing time…I guess it’s only fitting that the wondrous highs should only be followed by a sob-saturated case of the mega-blues. It just hurts. I ache.

Can I just say again how much I love my parents? Yes, they are getting old and a tiny bit sickly and I worry. They are also turning into old folks with old folksy quirks like telling long-winded stories and forgetting common words. They putter. They look like grandparents. They should be grandparents. They have so much spoiling left in them, but only so much time left to spoil…or so they think. So they spoil my brother and me, and it makes me feel guilty and a little bit sad. No, they are not without fault. They are not perfect. But they’ve worked so hard and tried so hard all their lives, and I see them just barely starting to turn into fragile creatures, and I just want to wrap my arms around them. I never, ever want them to leave me.

Of course, at the same time, I want to make sure that I am free to roam and do as I please. And I did just that. Got to spend some delicious quality time with Super T, and I got to meet the illustrious and gorgeous [Athena] at an amazing, new nightspot. I’m one lucky, lucky girl.

But.

I was so overcome with excitement. So much I wanted to do and say in such a short period of time. It wasn’t fair to anyone for me to try to force so much into so little time. Poor [Athena] and Patrick had to bear witness to my nervous rambles, and poor Super T had to experience my drunken tears later that night. I feel like I blew it in so many ways.

Why do I still feel like the woman-child who doesn’t quite have a handle on social graces in situations like these? Like a kid in an adult candy store, I ate too much, drank too much, talked a bit too much smack, and then emotionally vomited all over the place.

Ugh. What a belly-ache.

I tried to calm down a little bit the next day. Brunch with [Athena], Patrick and Super T was delicious (never mind a couple more goofy stories from me). I wish it could have lasted all day. Alas, when it was over, we said goodbye to [Athena] and Patrick, and then Super T declared that he was tired and dropped me off at my car in the hotel parking lot. Thank goodness I waited for him to drive out of sight before I let the floodgates open again.

My reaction to seeing Super T again really took me off guard. I hadn’t expected to get so overwhelmed—at all. After all, I hadn’t seen him in a whole year. He’d dissed me two Thanksgivings in a row, not to mention the night before I moved away! He’s completely emotionally unavailable, and yet…there I was…feeling butterflies and walking around with that stupid goofy grin the whole time. I couldn’t stop touching him, and I laid the complements on thick. They were completely sincere and truly came from my heart. But it was much too late and I was too far gone when I figured out that all of my lovesick puppy moves were making him uncomfortable.

I’m embarrassed and pretty much mortified now.

After Super T dropped me off and I had my little outburst, I didn’t really know what to do. I called Dude (we were supposed to go to dinner last night) and left him a message and then headed to the West Village for a little retail therapy.

Aah…the power of shopping.

Ended up getting in touch with my friend Matt, who was headed in my direction to hook up with some friends of his at the theater. He invited me to go to the movies with them, but I told him I had plans.

Plans fizzled (Dude was sick), so I ended up seeing Big Fish with Matt and friends. Loved it. It reminded me so much of my grandfather and the outrageous stories he used to tell. I see my dad following in his footsteps. Loved it so much that I cried what was left of my makeup completely off.

Matt and company must’ve felt really sorry for me because they invited me to dinner, too. They couldn’t get rid of me even if they tried….I even went for coffee with them after dinner! So emotionally needy was I at that point.

Finally, they tore my grip finger by finger, patted my head, and sent me home to Mommy and Daddy. I had over an hour to drive, so I called them to let them know I was on my way (so they’d wait up for me).

On that drive I couldn’t. Stop. Crying. No matter what I thought about. Everything brought me to tears. It got to the point of ridiculousness. Even funny thoughts would crack me up….and then immediately make me bawl. I started pinching myself so I’d stop. I didn’t want to let my parents see me with puffy, red eyes because I knew they’d ask me what was wrong and I’d break down in a sobbing mound in front of them and that’s the last thing I wanted.

So I dried myself out as best I could during the last few minutes of the drive. The lights were low, and my parents were sleepy when I walked in the door. We talked briefly and then we all went to bed.

Can you imagine how I felt this morning when I got up early to make coffee before heading to the airport, only to find my mom in the kitchen with quiet little tears rolling down her cheeks?

She said, “I love it when you come and go. I love seeing you and hearing about all of your little adventures. I love that you come back here.”

How on earth did I keep it together at that point?????!! I don’t know, but I somehow found strength and just gave her a little hug and kiss.

Dad took me to the airport, and we jabbered the whole way there. It was a wonderful talk. We laughed and gabbed and I loved every single minute. I love that he still gets excited over little things. I love that he tells me long-winded stories. I guess I get it honestly. I told him to go see Big Fish.

When I got to the airport, I checked my voicemail and was immediately brought back to reality. There was a message from my apartment building regarding some radiator leak or somesuch. Of course, I tried to call everyone back and nobody was answering. I was freaking because of the cat and how much damage could possibly be done, etc. etc. etc.

Now home. The details are boring (except for the serial killer qualities of the guy who came to fix the radiator), so I won’t go into them. It’s great to have my sweet kitten sitting in my lap again, and it’s nice to get unpacked and organized, and it’s good to be back in my little space and on my little computer. I think I’m 100% all cried out, and though I’m not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow, I think I can handle it.

The last week already seems so far away.