There's some sort of change in me right now. I don't know. Maybe its the oncoming winter, as fall is already here. I used to think that fall was the perfect time to fall in love, and a lot of my relationships did start in the fall. I think back about the perfect quietness of fall nights, how J and I used to walk to the bar in bowling green, and I would hate the walking because it was quicker just to drive there, but I still secretly enjoyed those walks.
Late night, even when it was so cold that there was a bit of snow on the ground, and she would cuddle me because she could see how cold I was. Then there was that one time with C, when she met me outside of University Hall on campus, and I was so young, God I would never do this now, but right there she rubbed her cheek on mine and it was so cold but her lips were so warm. I miss that kind of love. I wonder if its the type of love of youth, which one can never return to... like I only had one chance at that sort of love and that was it.
Right now I'm listening to Madonna (ok ok stop...hear me out) and its the song Oh Father. Honestly, I think this is a really well written song. The rises in it, the chorus of youngish voices, whenever I hear it I think of my youth and how I dealt with my parents. In a way, with my father. I can't say that when I was younger I had a really good relationship with him. I can't say that now I have any better of a relationship with him. I thought for a minute that things were getting better, but he hurt me again, even when I thought I would never let him into that part of my vulnerability again.
He used to always degrade me as a child. Most of my memories of youth involving him have him screaming at me, raising his fist at me (he never hit me), wishing he never had me. He said that to me and its so vivid, this memory, that all I have to do is open that door in the back of my mind and I'm in that room again, hearing him say it. He used to tell me to stop crying when I would start crying. Now, as an adult, in order for me to cry, the tears have to squeeze themselves out. Crying is actually painful, because the tears will sit like a rock in the back of my throat, will burn behind my eyes. I can actually mostly control crying, since he so ingrained it into me that crying was weak.
We were driving in my car, my mom and I were returning from a wedding shower for my cousin. My dad was in the backseat because he had been sick lately, having palpitations. There was a scary instance where I was at a bookstore and my mother called, and I could hear the cold white fear in her voice, controlled but there, as she told me that my dad had fainted. I left the store and met my mom, where I found my dad on the floor with hardly any clothes on. My mom told me that she had slapped his face, yelled at him and he didn't respond. I knew she thought he was dead when that happened, as he had been having heart problems lately.
After calling the doctor and the doctor thinking he had a stroke, I picked him up under the arm and bodily dragged him to my car, where he threw up as my mom and I drove him to the emergency room. We stayed with him until he was admitted, saw him to his room, and left. He was discharged the next day and put on new heart medication.
Fast forward to a month later, with my mom and I and my dad in the car. He had been lecturing me about my driving for the long trip up to Troy, Michigan, and on the way back, I couldn't take it, and I said I was going to drive my car into the guardrail if he kept up. He started calling me stupid, over and over, and it was like a camera clicked and I was looking at a photo from my childhood. But I wasn't going to take it, and this time, I didn't speak to he and my mom for two months.
It was one of the worst 2 months of my life. The other part of it that sucked so much was that I had no one to talk to about it. The friend that I thought might lend an ear and some kindness was so preoccupied that they didn't even notice that I didn't look like I had slept in weeks. Maybe preoccupied isn't accurate, maybe self centered would make more sense. I felt so incredibly alone. Even in my worst times, I can always talk to my mother and have her comfort me. The other pain was that when I thought my dad and I were getting better, and we were, we were actually having conversations (the novelty!), I had to stop trying to love him again.
I started biking a lot, the loneliness of downtown at midnight matched how I felt, and even when I would stop in somewhere, like the tavern, I wouldn't be able to stay long, because I always felt this restlessness. I don't know if that was entirely because of everything that was going on, but riding made me feel better. I was losing weight because of it and feeling like I was finally giving a damn about my body.
I started talking to my parents again last week. I had stopped by to make a car payment and my dad had opened the front door, telling me that I didn't have to speak to him but I should see my mother. He wouldn't take the money so I went inside and handed it to my mother, but instead she grabbed me by both arms and stared at me, starting to cry. I hated the hurt I had given her. My dad looked thinner. That day my friend KR was coming into town, and all of us spent the day hanging out. I was pretty shaken up, because after my mother had grabbed me like that, I had pushed her arms away and left the house without saying anything.
I was angry, and heartbroken, and full of stupid pride that didn't allow me to accept the apology my dad had given me over the phone in a message he left me. The entire day had me trying to pretend everything was great and alright and doing a pretty good job because no one really said anything, even when I tried to explain what had happened when I went over. It was quickly pushed out of conversation, and I, used to that sort of thing, didn't mention it again.
All of us, E, K, and KR and I went to a restaurant. We were having an alright time, when K said some sharp things to me that I totally felt were uncalled for. I, trying to be a good person, apologized for bringing up what was thought to be inappropriate in the conversation. It was like a pin being shoved into my balloon, it was the damage that whittled away at the wall I had created around the day. For the rest of the meal I tried not to let my face crumble, I ate my food, and E asked me if I was angry. I said no, just tired.
Sitting and waiting for E to bring the car up, K was again sharp with me, and I got up and said I was going to the car. I didn't want anyone to see me crying, and I hoped that KR would ride with E and K, but she ended up running to my car. I apologized, and we had a little bit of a talk while the tears rolled down my cheeks. E and K left without even saying goodbye. I felt humiliated crying in front of KR, and it had to of been uncomfortable for her. She managed it the best she could, I think now of how funny things work out. Someone I hardly see giving me such compassion. It felt nice to be able to talk about things that had been sitting in the pit of my stomach for so long.
I wonder sometimes if I'm just so closed off that no one thinks to ask me how I'm doing, or how anything is anymore. Things have definitely changed between myself and some friends. I don't know how or when, but its a distance. For some reason it makes me second guess everything I do, I sense like people tiptoe around me. Well, certain people. I've always felt like if someone isn't making you happy, whats the point in hanging around for nothing. The bad thing is all the attachments that make it such a difficult break.
Four a.m. thoughts.
