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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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12:33 p.m. - 2004-05-15
My sister-in-law is really wonderful. I’d left a desperate message on her voice mail on Thursday. See, she’s the only person who asks me how I am and actually wants to know. (The only person in meat space, that is.) She didn’t get my message until last night. Despite just hitting the tarmac at JFK, she told me she’d be right up. How cool is that? The woman just landed on home soil after a killer business trip and she drives 2 hours just to hold my hand and listen to me cry. How do you thank somebody for something like that? Anyhow, after listening to me spew and weep about her favorite brother (which must have been really hard) she helped me straighten some stuff out. Of course everything with Mike had assumed mega-giant-everything in the universe proportions, he’s the only adult I see for weeks at a time! Seriously. Since it’s become so difficult to drive I never see my few off-line friends anymore. Nobody is busting their hump to get over to the Hobbit House and share a cuppa. They have careers. They have to take the kids to the ten thousand stupid lessons and leagues they force their kids to slog through. Far too busy to ‘waste’ time seeing me. If I didn’t come to them, then tough titties. Basically? I’m dying of loneliness. That’s why I miss my job. That’s why I’m so sad all the time. That’s why I have no perspective on my marriage. I don’t have anything or anyone else. No friends to talk to. No places to go. No new venues to maybe find some new friends who aren’t so fucking busy that they can’t take half an hour and visit. So. One crip shut-in who used to talk to dozens of people a day. Who used to shoot pool on Tuesday nights and play poker on Fridays. A social animal locked in solitary confinement by an illness few people understand and even fewer have patience for. (Whaddya mean you’re too shaky to help me move a couch?) Married to a workaholic who has ever and anon put the needs of his family last. A guy who is now so stressed by his years deep exhaustion that even being civil feels like an imposition. Caught in a self-made time trap, mix in skewed priorities exascerbating a pretty wide mean streak and BOOM! One nasty husband and one emotionally/socially starved wife at each other’s throats. I don’t know how to fix any of it, but knowing what the real problem is helps immensely. My husband is a dickwad. I’m just going to have accept that. It didn’t seem to matter as much when I had my own stuff going on. If he was being a sullen asshole I could just get in my car and go. But now? Now he’s the ONLY adult I talk to and it’s terribly important that he be decent. He won’t see that and I’d reached the breaking point. If we lived in the city it would be better. The car isn’t king in the city. A Metro-pass and I could go anywhere. And the streets are teeming with life in the city. My lonely soul would be soothed with a single trip to the corner. I’d see more people in that trip around the block than I will in a decade up here in the burbs. After I put Wolf on the bus in the morning the next human voices I hear are the kids next-door getting off their bus at 2:47. If I were a senior citizen Boy Scouts would come visit me. The Meals-on-Wheels lady would be by once a day. I could go on Golden Ager bus tours to see the fall leaves. The high school kids would come read to me as part of their community service. But I’m not a senior citizen. There’s no activities for middle-aged shut-ins. There’s nothing but being alone and waiting, waiting waiting for my silent phone to ring. Waiting, waiting waiting for Mike to come home. I’ve done everything I could to keep my friendships viable, but without my wheels…I’m fucked. So that’s where I’m at. ~LA
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