Singularly focused

My heart isn’t in this tonight.

Doug and I got into a pseudo-argument this afternoon, because I feel like all his energy goes into his bike: it seems like that’s all he thinks about, talks about, worries about, and wants to do.  And it’s annoying – in the same way that singularly focused brides are annoying, singularly focused pregnant women are annoying, singularly focused any-type-of-people are annoying.

So we sat in the car outside of Costco, and I cried and told him that I feel like I’ve moved down a rung or two on his priority ladder, and that if I keep feeling like he’s disinterested in me/us/our future, then I will become disinterested in him/us/our future, and then where will that leave me?  (Answer: the same place I was before I met him, only now four years older.)

And then he cried and told me that sometimes he feels like I am singularly focused, too.

Sometimes he feels like I am singularly focused on this blog, and the world around it – my fake blog friends, and their lives, and their stories.  I wake up in the morning, and I log in to check for comments before I’ve even put bread in the toaster.  I get home at night, and I immediately sit down at the computer to read other people’s posts, and then to write my own.  I often feel drained and overwhelmed by the enormity of this project, and I often say I want to take blog sabbaticals, but Doug has been telling me all along not to stop writing, because, he says, the blog is good for me.

“Yeah, and because I use it to find out what’s going on inside your head,” he told me today.  “Because you’re so emotionally closed-off now; you tell that blog more about what you’re thinking than you tell me.”

Well… shit.

The truth is, Doug and everyone else, that I’ve been miserable lately.  I have lost/am losing touch with some of my closest friends, thanks, in part, to their pregnancies.  A whole slew of my fake blog friends are now pregnant as well.  One of my close friends at work got transfered to another store, effective yesterday.  I feel, in so many ways, like I am being left behind.  My boyfriend has been distant, preoccupied with a sport that I care about approximately (and this is generous) 15% as much as I care about us getting married, starting a family, and living happily ever after.  My best way out of these depressing thoughts is through distraction, and I am not being distracted while I’m sitting here writing and thinking about this stuff constantly.

(Needless to say, I’ll be taking a break from blogging after this project ends in three weeks, then coming back with something new and different and hopefully a little more real/active-life and a little less Marie’s-crazy-mental/emotional-life.)

Tonight, I’m wrapping this up, turning off the computer, taking a shower, and spending the evening engaged in reality: eating chocolate strawberries, playing games, reading, maybe just sitting and conversing – like, out loud – with this person I share a bed with, and maybe even making decent use of that bed.

Tomorrow, we’re going to the zoo in the morning, then I’m going to therapy (and thank God for that), then…  who knows.  More of the above.  Somewhere in there, I’ll post about something other than how I don’t want to post.

One more thing: I kept telling Doug this afternoon, when he asked why I was trying to convince Bernie to drive down from LA for breakfast later this week, that “I need a friend.”  I need to know that I still matter.  That I am not truly being left behind while everyone else is off getting married, starting families, and living happily ever after.  I know this in theory, of course – I know my time will come, so please don’t tell me that again – but I need the physical reminder.  I need my friends to do whatever it is that real friends make time to do in times of need: take me out for a drink, send handwritten letters, give hugs, make coffee, offer words of advice and encouragement, (confidential to Dad) buy puppies…  I need a hand in feeling less like a crazy person, less like a sob-story, less like a tag-along, and more like I matter.

I need to stop writing, right now, give myself back to the real world, and eat dinner with my boyfriend.

Protegée

Right now,
I crave your support,
your acceptance,
your encouragement,
like sunlight
(which I pretend to hate,
but secretly enjoy
getting burned by).

Right now,
I need you
more than I ever did
when I claimed
I was in love with you.

(4-24-03)

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8 Responses to Singularly focused

  1. Esperanza says:

    Being in that place, where you want something but the important pieces in your life aren’t accommodating of that thing you want and are waiting for, is the worst place to be. Well, probably not the worst, but really bad. I was there for a long time, schlepping myself and my guy to therapy trying to convince him that he was ready for all the things I wanted, all the things you seem to want. And I was miserable. And by the time was actively TTC I felt like I had been TTC for YEARS already because I had wanted to be but couldn’t. It was so frustrating and NO ONE understood how I was feeling. And luckily I didn’t have other friends doing those things and “leaving me behind” as you wrote (and I would have felt) but there was another kind of isolation in being the only one who wanted it and having everyone else thing I was crazy for letting that want take over my life. So I know (in some small way – I know two people can never truly know what the other is feeling, no matter how similar their stories) how you are feeling. And I understand that “knowing it will be your turn one day” does not one good goddamn thing for the longing and uncertainty you’re feeling now.

    You know, your list of things you would expect someone to do for you when they know you are suffering is much like a list I once had. But I so rarely found my friends capable of doing those things that I slowly began to believe that I was expecting too much, that my list held the fault and not my friends. Seeing that list on your blog makes me realize that it’s not my expectations that need to change but my friends. Thanks for reminding me of that (too bad I’m shit at making friends. 😉

    I’m sad your blog will be closing down soon. I’ve just found you and so enjoy reading you. I look forward to your new project. I will definitely read it.

  2. Sara says:

    One word: Chicken!

    Just say when. We are almost always free, with the exception of Thursday nights, as Jason has class. All our birdie babies are eating on their own, so no need to rush home to feed anybody.

    I know how you are feeling. I am kinda there with you. All my “friends” right now are internet friends. I rarely see anybody anymore. Or worse, the only invites to do things end up being very costly, which clearly doesn’t work for me.

  3. Elphaba says:

    Hmm, I wonder if Mr. M thinks I spend too much blogging…. he’s spending a lot of time working lately, so I guess it’s justified.

    I think that you and Doug talked about what you’re both feeling is really important. You can’t fix something if one person doesn’t know you’re hurting.

    Is Sara someone you know in real life? Hang out with her! And have fun at the zoo 🙂

  4. Whitney says:

    I have to admit I haven’t read every post over this past year, and I am only saying that to let you know how impressed I am that you have written every post for the past year! It has taken so much dedication and emotional openness to commit so fully to this project, especially considering the strain it may have had on other parts of your life. However, I feel like if you can do this, you can do anything! I hope all your dreams come true Marie!

  5. bodegabliss says:

    I think it makes total sense to need a physical reminder that you matter. And I have to say, I think Tim feels the same way. The other night he said, “I’d like one night for you to not be with your blog.” I know he knows how much it means to me to have my space, but it was a good reminder that I need to be more present in my real life. I think a break will do you good. And like I said before, I feel left out/behind quite a bit, too.

    (I wish California weren’t so damn big, I’d be down there in a second!)

  6. Kira says:

    If you were within driving distance I would definitely meet up, have coffee and do the “real life” friend thing. Stupid Colorado being so far from everything…

  7. Pingback: Harsh truths, part 1 of 2 | Bakery Closed Until Further Notice

  8. Saundra says:

    I understand where Doug’s coming from, but I wonder, what about if you were to take up a more solitary writing project — one where you didn’t have a community following you? My hope is that he’d give you time for that and not feel neglected.

    Just an observation because you are a writer, and I’d kind of like to hear that you are consumed with future projects, too — and that you have room in your relationship to be.

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