I don’t have a whole lot of time to write today, so I’m just going to set the timer for 5:00 and see what happens.
The past two weeks have been consumed with writing/editing, with the goal of completing a short fiction collection I’m planning to submit to a literary competition, the deadline being November 1. I’ve got two stories left to finish and polish but the rest are in good shape. But that’s why this blog has been rather quiet as of late.
Do you ever have moments when you realize all of a sudden that you’ve turned into the crazy Meryl Streep character from Woody Allen’s Manhattan? That’s what happened to me yesterday.
While going through Facebook updates, I came across one from my friend Jenny, who had liked a post from Seth basically saying that he was having my best friend Emily, her husband and their 3-year-old son Liam over for dinner. Naturally I flipped out, as all mentions of Seth generally cause me to do, turning me from a relatively sane, rational individual into a raving lunatic. Like Meryl Streep. I angry-texted her to the effect of, “I know where you are and who you’re with.”
For Emily to fraternize with Seth, even over an informal get-to-know-you dinner, is interpreted by my crazy brain as her siding with the man who shattered my heart, a cruel invalidation of the pain I’ve experienced over the last year and a half, and ultimately a betrayal, unintended as it was. It’s bad enough that she’s still a Christian now that I’m an atheist, and that she and her husband are going to be involved with SafeHouse, which means that Seth will be their pastor and they’ll see him regularly, so there will be this walled off portion that we can’t share and can’t talk about. Now she’s having dinner with him—and I know how charismatic and charming he can be.
It comes down to my emotionally paralyzing terror of abandonment, and what with losing my faith and subsequently my community and my family for the most part, there’s just a lot of loss to deal with all at once—and I’m largely dealing with it on my own, since there’s no one really there to lean on when I lose it. Emily’s been the one constant in all of this. I already feel replaceable and forgettable enough—that people will eventually figure out that I’m not that interesting and move on.
And I have a hard enough time believing that anyone could ever stay with me as a partner. Seth’s rejection of me in February, coupled with the long string of failures and rejections in my past, as well as my failures in the romance department, all add up to this devastating conclusion that I will always be alone and no one will love me.
It’s like my birthday became this dividing line in the sand, with me on one side and Seth on the other; and along with Seth is God, my whole past life, and anyone who is friends with him, which leaves me increasingly alone over here. My inner narrator knows damn well that the line is completely self-imposed and that I’m the only one walling everything off, but the hurt and pain drown out all reason and rationale.
Fuck. There’s a lot to process right now, and I’m way over 5:00.
Hope I haven’t taken up too much of your time.