Tag: family

My 10 Days of Christmas: Day 3

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All I Want To Do Is Live

I write this missive after the ebbing away of an unusually hard crying spell. It was so hard in fact, that I became worried. I called my therapist and my psychiatrist’s office, making contact with neither, but I was able to secure a Zoom appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow.

Eventually, the hard crying ended. But I felt it’s shadow lingering.

What’s the crying all about? My general practitioner would probably say I need to take a higher dose of anti-depressants. My therapist might say I am working through some grief. My psychiatrist is relatively new in my life. I don’t know what he’ll say but I’ll find out tomorrow.

Here’s what I know to say: for over a year, I stayed up way too late, talking for hours on the phone night after night after having reconnected with a friend who lives on the other side of the country. I was perpetually sleep deprived and emotionally stretched thin. But he made me laugh and complimented me often and as I felt lonely and all alone in my life, those were enough. He fed a hope that he might possibly become more than just a friend. He might move across the country to be a part of my life.

That possibility existed briefly but it is gone forever. Harsh words were spoken that broke my heart, dashing my hopes to the ground from a great height.

I realized the highly unstable emotional nature of this man much earlier than the huge irrational blowup that happened over the phone, the one that ended our friendship. But because I felt so lonely and alone in my life, I believed these were quirks that were unimportant. Or I believed he would heal. Either way, I was engaging in magical thinking.

I’m not entirely sure what this grief I am experiencing is all about. It’s not just about the loss of a friend. It’s about the loss of people I can trust. I am feeling grief from the hurt caused by self-righteous people who use sarcasm and snark. I was hit not only by my “friend” with self-righteous sarcasm and snark, but by family members who were being self-righteous and snarky about my “friend.” And in both instances, their self-righteousness snark was always more important than my feelings. I can accept this level of betrayal from the alleged friend much more easily than I can from my family. Additionally, standing in between two bodies of snark ripped me apart.

People who are so convinced they are right and others are wrong will say anything they care to say, intending to hurt rather than heal. I find myself doing this sometimes. And I don’t want to be this person. I want to be a person who cares enough about others to talk with them, to reason, to work through difficulties without sarcasm, without snark, and without becoming passive aggressive. Conversely, I want those sorts of people in my life.

I awoke this morning to two deer grazing on the sparse grass in the front of the house where I’m staying. Such gentle creatures fill my heart with such relief and hope. I yearn to find gentle humans among whom I can dwell. Just as I did with the vultures, I asked the deer if they had anything to tell me. A healer in the Cherokee tradition taught me to do this. As soon as I ask, a response immediately comes into my brain that I need to hear. This morning, the response was, “Be still and clear in your heart.”

I set out on the 35 mile drive to Kill Devil Hills where a capable mechanic would determine the cause of the battery and check engine lights coming on in my car. I was apprehensive about learning the cause, so it required a bit of an internal push to initiate this journey.

If you recall, I arrived in Rodanthe at night, so I hadn’t fully taken in the scenery along the route there. Besides, I was a bit distracted by the battery and check engine lights coming on and worried that there was no place around for me to stop. In the light of day, I discovered that I am indeed on a very thin strip of land in the middle of the water, that the sand wants to cover the roads and so lots of machines are constantly at work shoveling the sand up into the dunes by the road, that there is truly nothing between Rodanthe and Nags Head, and that humans are silly beings to build “permanent” structures on such places as this.

I got within a half mile of garage when my car stalled. The power was rapidly dying but I had enough left to pull into a parking lot. I called to let them know I wouldn’t be on time for my appointment and why. They recommended I call Bayside Towing, tell them Meineke sent me, and I’d get a deal. The tow truck was there in no time and got me to the garage safe and sound. The driver was most courteous and even had a decorated dashboard for Christmas. Despite the bad luck of breaking down en route, everything proceeded pretty painlessly.

I had a bad alternator. Having nowhere to go and no way to get anywhere, I sat in the Meineke waiting area while the bad alternator was replaced with a good one. News played on the television. Why is the news always playing in waiting areas? Why not the Cartoon Network or Comedy Central? You would think doctors and mechanics wouldn’t care to depress their clients further. I mean, they do hope to get paid after all.

I was rescued from the news by a Jersey girl named Susie. She’d lost her husband and her brother in September but she was a tough gal. She told me about her large family and what hilarious nuts they all were. She told me how much she laughed when they were all together. She showed me photos. And indeed, they appeared to be nuts. Susie was lovely and gave me her card as she was leaving. She told me that if I get lonely, give her a call and we’d go out for lunch. I thought for a moment that she must be an angel to have seen inside my heart so astutely.

After the car was repaired and I paid way more money than I’d expected to spend during this get away, I drove to the grocery store to pick up some supplies for my stay. Foodstuffs. But I couldn’t make myself get out of the car once I arrived. There I sat in the parking lot wondering if I really needed to secure foodstuffs for my stay. Or did I need to high tail it home, beat down by the outside world, back to KVegas, back to my parents house, back to a place where I would absolutely not allow myself the space to grieve?

I sat pondering these things for much too long but ultimately, I got out of the car and went grocery shopping.

Driving back towards Rodanthe, a little restaurant called Food Dudes Kitchen caught my eye in Nags Head. It looked like a good spot to acquire some comfort food. I was correct. They had a mac ’n’ cheese with Cheezits on top. Its savory warmth soothed my soul.

In the bathroom, there were funny little fish creatures made from beer bottle caps and wine corks. I found myself taking photos because I wanted to share them with someone. This is what happens when I’m alone. I want to share my sights with someone. Is that because I feel like the sights aren’t valid if only I see them? Just me alone and no one else? I may need to practice taking no pictures tomorrow. But for now, here are photos of fish creations.

I left the restaurant. The sun had come out for the first time in days. I took advantage of this and walked along the ocean in Nags Head. Then I drove back to Rodanthe and walked to the Rodanthe Pier. It appears to be closed due to its dilapidated state. But the structure fascinated me and I felt a kinship with it. It’s still useful, to a degree. Not as useful as it may have been in the past. And not much to look at. Still, the stories it could tell! Standing still and listening, I could almost hear them.

After my walk, I returned to the place I’m staying and as soon as I entered my room, I started to cry again. Deep, heavy sobs whose intensity would not cease.

This grief is a force of nature. A tempest. It is mystifying. In time I will figure it out. As the deer said, be still and clear in my heart. Only then will I know.

As hard as this is, I’m staying with myself, by myself, for the holiday. I’m the only one who knows my heart. And right now, that’s the sort of person I need to be around right now. I am exactly where I need to be. Because, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” -Isak Dinesen

I dedicate this missive to dear friends: Meghan, Wesley, Lucy, Melissa, Chris, and Jen, who checked in on me yesterday and today. Thank-you. I love you.

My 10 Days of Christmas: Day 1

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The Wake

A few days ago, I was driving a little outside the city limits of Kernersville, NC when I saw a group of black vultures. This was the second time in two weeks that I had observed this type of gathering. The first time, the vultures were making short work of a deer carcass by the side of the road. This time, there was no obvious food. They were all just standing around. I pulled over to take a picture of them. One of them looked my way and I said, “Hey buddy! What’s up? Do you have something to tell me?” Because like all magical thinkers, I believe animals have messages for me.

Immediately, the following words appeared in my brain: “Carry on living your life in your own manner.” This was an unexpected response from a black vulture. So I said, “Thank-you! Anything else?” Again, an immediate response came to mind, “You are beautiful.”

I had to research what one calls a grouping of vultures. For example, a group of crows is called a “murder.” A group of dolphins is a “pod.” I didn’t know what to call a group of vultures. Perched vultures are a “wake.”

I’ve been grieving over the loss of a relationship, which — even though it was a year in the making, it was still in its developmental stage. The grief is still pretty fresh. And to be honest, I’ve been distracting myself from feeling it. The grief has been compounded by unkind words spoken by family members at me about the person with whom I am no longer in relationship. I very nearly fell apart from the weight of trying to please everyone. But I managed to hold on until I could get out of town.

Today, I drove to a string of barrier islands known as the Outer Banks in North Carolina. I’ve rented a cheap room for ten days so that I can avoid the traditional Christmas get-together with family. I felt I would not be able to handle the chaos and commotion with any degree of integrity, so it seemed best to remove myself altogether. Since my birthday is three days after Christmas, I figured to be safe, I’d stay away til a few days after that.

The drive provided me with the freedom to cry. I cried a lot. Random song lyrics, sights, and thoughts triggered me and propelled me to sob.

I packed up an assortment of books, my painting and drawing supplies, and some needlework with which to occupy myself. I’ll have the great outdoors while the sun’s up. And afterwards, I can busy myself with self reflection and self improvement exercises.

I am alone.

I drove the first quarter of my journey before I needed to find a bathroom. I took an exit that advertised gas stations but quickly realized the bathrooms were 2.5 miles off the exit. This annoyed me and so I decided to get back on the interstate and take an exit where bathrooms were immediately available.

You just can’t bank on this expectation when driving through rural areas. I had to drive a mile and half through winding roads to the first available entrance ramp for the interstate. I was face-to-face with the immediate gratification monster that contemporary society had turned me into and it was not pretty. I started feeling a heightened anxiety made worse by the discomfort of my full bladder.

Mercifully, I found a ramp just up the road a ways and found a gas station pretty immediately. I noticed a strange creature on the roof of a CashPoints® and made a note to self to explore it more carefully after I’d relieved myself.

Right outside the bathroom was a display of T-Shirts that said “Lizard Lick, NC.” How was it possible to end up in a town called Lizard Lick without even realizing it!? I purchased a shirt and dashed outside to examine the strange creature. It was indeed a large lizard perched atop the roof of the ATM island.

For further verification, I took a close-up.

Feeling pleased with myself for discovering Lizard Lick, I soon left it and continued on my journey to Rodanthe.

The name Rodanthe obviously conjures thoughts of the giant Pteranodon in the Godzilla universe, a.k.a. Radon, Monster Zero-Two, The Fire Demon, and Titanus Rodan. I questioned my decision to book a room at a place with such a fear-inducing name. Especially as I neared it.

To reach the Outer Banks, one must drive across a couple of rather long bridges. The longest is 5.1 miles and as I drive over Croatan Sound, images of Godzilla and Rodanthe — er, Rodan — ripping up bridges, cars plummeting into the murky depths, play out in my brain.

What the hell am I doing?!

It was nearly dark when I arrived at Nags Head, the most convenient stop at the Outer Banks. I had to drive further South where there is much less development, much more wilderness. And just as I veered away from civilization, my check engine and battery lights came on.

I don’t know if you’ve ever found yourself driving along a narrow stretch of land surrounded by the sea — a stretch where there are no stores, no gas stations, no mechanics — at dusk when the check engine and battery lights in your car come on, but I can tell you from experience, it is anxiety-producing.

I pondered whether to turn back or push forward. To double back would put me at my destination much later than I cared to be and I was already exhausted. Plus, there was no guarantee I would be able to find anyone to help me should I double back. So I asked for grace to descend upon me and shower me with her good favor as I proceeded on my way, driving across yet another bridge. This one was only 2.8 miles long. But at night, and with its extreme curve, it was much more frightening.

I drove between sand dunes that towered overhead, sand billowing across the road. I watched the lights on my dashboard as I counted down the miles remaining before I reached my destination. My eyes darted nervously from the car’s dashboard to the navigational app on my phone. Would I make it?

The navigational app’s voice guided me to the road where I would allegedly find the house I would stay in. The road led me to a row of houses that were predominately dark. No porch lights. No lights from within. My cell phone lost service right as I parked. My anxiety mounted. Fortunately I was able to connect to the Airbnb’s host’s wifi and all was figured out from that point.

Road weary and exhausted by the sudden onset of rather dramatic crying spells, I staggered up the front steps of the house in the dark, went into a dark house where I staggered up more steps, trying to determine which door in a series of doors led to the room I had booked. I found the correct door with the correct keypad upon which I punched a series of digits that allowed me access to a dark room. I flipped a wall switch and no light came on. I felt my way to a lamp and cut it on. I texted the host to determine whether the overhead light worked and discovered it was just “finicky.” I needed to pull on its chain out to the side a bit rather than simply pulling down. It took several tries before I succeeded in mastering the finicky chain. And then I was able to see what I’d put myself into.

It’s fine really. But upon entering it, I became aware of the distinct lack of Christmas cheer, the distinct lack of personality, the distinct lack of company. And I suddenly wondered again, “What the hell am I doing?”

We’ll see what the daylight brings.