I am never quite sure of the order in one is supposed to run the emotional gamut, as it pertains to dealing with loss. I’m pretty sure there’s a “denial” in there (not really my style) and ultimately despair (which I’m begging that we skip altogether), but as I’ve spent the last day being angered -- nay, enraged -- at the Universe for my latest loss, I’m hoping it’s a sign that I’m almost finished with the whole process.
I woke up this morning with the theme song to Degrassi Junior High weighing my head down against my new, maybe too expensive sheets (See, I bought them in that typical New Man, New Bed spree that mystically makes a girl need -- I mean, really need -- 600 thread count sheets). Anyway, the opening line from the Degrassi theme was playing in my head
Wake up in the morning, feelin’ sad and lonely…
and suddenly, on top of sad and lonely, I was feeling mad -- fiercely angry at the Universe (not at Joe, mind you) -- that I even had to be feeling sad and lonely. Why? What purpose does this serve? Being taunted with bits of bliss, only to be let down seems cruel. Seems? It is cruel and it makes me mad. Why can’t I just be left contented, unmoved and unburdened by the loss that comes with failed expectations (even in usually large doses, boredom can surely be no worse than the cruelty that is disappointment) and skip a situation that the result of which would cause a girl to need to know the stupid stages of loss?
I’m angry. I know I said that. But I want to make it clear that I find this whole thing unnecessary and maddening.
I was doing fine. And short of the fulfillment of the cop-in-uniform fantasy, what did I get for my troubles? Sheets I can’t afford and an $85 bottle of wine we never got around to drinking. I’d go ahead and pour myself a glass or two now, you know, to dull the pain. But I make a really shoddy angry drunk. Something about the wobbly chin is unconvincing.
Chin-wobblers are hot.
Drunk chin-wobblers are hotter.
Drunk chin-wobblers on 600–thread-count sheets make me want to drive 1,500 miles beat up the loser that broke your heart.
Posted by: Gopi at January 17, 2005 12:18 AMFor the past few days I've been waking up and telling my reflection to play nice and resist those urges to call and say regretable things.
Unfortunately, I'm still angry.
Posted by: Jack at January 17, 2005 01:02 AMYa. Treat yourself .. you gotta. Because, what's left?
Posted by: Jen at January 17, 2005 01:22 AMGod, I know exactly how you feel right now. Exactly.
Posted by: Anne at January 17, 2005 03:34 AMAww Babygirl-
We are all totally going through this right now, so we feel all of this EXACTLY.
I'll have you know, being mad about it really helps me sometimes. Hell, it's working for me.
This too shall pass. Make it your mantra. Shit, if I can get through my breakup, you totally can too.
If you need an ear or a shoulder, I've got two of each, and they've all got your name on them.
Posted by: angie at January 17, 2005 05:16 AMMy heart goes out to you.
As a fellow Manhattanite, I know how difficult it can be to wade through the masses of inelligibles and when you find someone you like, how you try to hold on.
But, ultimately, sometimes you have to let go.
And who knows, the next someone special may be right around the corner.
Here's hoping....
--LAZ
shoddy drunk or not i think you should drink that wine
Posted by: amit at January 17, 2005 07:01 AMFish, a man is a man is a man...you know that by now. And yeh...kill the wine. Definitely.
Posted by: Robotnik at January 17, 2005 07:43 AMMe, I would keep the sheets, and share the wine with best friends... the people who love you and aren't going anywhere.
Take care of yourself...
Posted by: andrea at January 17, 2005 08:42 AMa sad story that has happened to me one too many times...
Posted by: ali at January 17, 2005 09:14 AMThis stage likes to sit on simmer for a longer while than I'd like, but it's a better alternative (as you say) than the despair, because that's lonelier/more self-defeating.
Since I spent three years with my own version of this, my anger has been simmering for a few months now - anger at him (why was he still promising me the world, when he knew he wasn't going to deliver?) and also a dose of anger at myself (why didn't I acknowledge those stupid glaring signs?).
If directed at him, it means you've got a healthy shot of self-esteem ("his loss, a-hole") and if directed at yourself, it's just a way to remind yourself that you deserve to be treated better in the future. It's a good stage, this anger.
Posted by: Chex at January 17, 2005 09:46 AMFish, my heart goes out to you. I know you have to know, though, that it does pass, that you have to go through all of it, and that we might as well learn from the pain.
I've been in your glass slippers before.
Posted by: pinky at January 17, 2005 10:36 AMActually, I commented last time in some inspirational cliche, but this time I'm actually right there with ya. I didn't buy sheets but a really expensive phone. I figure I can't eat a cake and I can't get drunk so I'll buy something. I feel a bit better, but mostly totally and completely pissed. faaaahk.
Posted by: syd at January 17, 2005 10:45 AMFish, I'm new to this blog -- I got here from Browneye's link -- I'm sorry you're having a tough day. But please let me say that I just browsed through your previous posts, and I think you are a very bright, very witty individual. Maybe it will help to know that you impressed the hell out of a complete stranger from WA state. When you can express yourself this well, you'll be just fine -- always.
Posted by: shari at January 17, 2005 11:35 AMI've been reading for a while now.
Dammit Fish, he sounded nice, really nice. All I can say is his loss. And I hope he stubs his toe tomorrow morning and every morning for the rest of his days.
Posted by: Geek's Girl at January 17, 2005 12:01 PMi'm sorry :( curl up in yr nice sheets with a nice glass of wine and take it easy for a bit ... he's totally missing out, you know. xo
Posted by: dharmabum at January 17, 2005 12:56 PMMy heartthrob gave me the "we're strictly friends" routine. He has since posted an ad on match.com looking for someone shorter, younger, and not as assertive as me - and I just found it yesterday. I spent most of last night crying; I'm in the anger/denial/bargaining phase right now. I'm planning to spend the evening alternately cleaning like a madwoman and taking walks in frigid air with faithful dog.... Hug Sir Hal (not too hard) and listen to your friends. Your heart doesn't know what hit it and can't be trusted......
Posted by: lawyerchik1 at January 17, 2005 02:14 PMI have been where you are many times before. Only I usually spend way too much time in the denial, despair and bargaining phases and not enough time in the anger phase. I wish I could skip those other phases and go straight to anger.
I know where you're coming from, though, and I hope you feel better soon.
Posted by: Jennifer at January 17, 2005 02:33 PMThis works as a temporary measure, too:
http://www.warpedworld.org/dammit.html
Whenever things don't go so well...
And you want to hit the wall and yell...
Here's a little dammit doll
That you can't do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it
And as you whack the stuffing out
Yell, "DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!"
Hmm, drown your sorrows over a bottle of wine meant for the two of you or eliminate the memory by regifting the wine? I think I'd have opted for the regift.
George Costanza
a/k/a Uncle Creepy in the world of Blueshoesdiary
To quote Tesla (The 80's band, not the pioneer of the radio):
"Love is all around you"
Not that it really is, but if I can get that song in your head, maybe it pushes out some of the rage.
Are you a Tesla or a Marconni girl?
Posted by: Mike at January 17, 2005 04:13 PMMike, and here I thought I was going to learn something. I was looking forward to a common thread between Fish's post and Nikola Tesla. But instead, you had to bring back a God awful image of a "hair band." Ah well..."easy come, easy go."
:)
Posted by: Robotnik at January 17, 2005 04:33 PMIf it makes you feel any better (which I'm sure it won't - but what the hell) I am a man in the exact - okay - close to it - situation. Can't get the girl out of my head and she has cooled off.
Wine sounds like a good start...
- R
Posted by: R at January 17, 2005 05:33 PMAfter reviewing previous posts on this subject I saw that someone originally mentioned castration at the first dishonoring of your outstanding personality by said man. (at least I assume it was the same).
We could always put this option back out on the table. Of course he did seem like a nice bloke (I'm not british okay) or a very honest bastard, take your pick.
I would disagree that all men are bastards. Some of us were never cool enough to be part of that club. Instead we pick women who are the "other number" on that particular gender equation.
And hey, it seemed good while it lasted. At least you didn't feel like you needed a retainer before you went on a second date.
give the wine to someone needy. no need to have it as a reminder.
this stinks. I'm sorry.
Posted by: S at January 17, 2005 08:29 PMit's not my style to a. offer advice or b. wish any ill will on this guy, but it does seem like an appropriate place to say that you are the person who inspires me to write (after reading my writing, i hope you don't take that offensively...). My own selfish fear is that when you do find the perfect guy (or girl, i'm just sayin') he/she will ask you to spend more time with him/her and less time with us/me.
Posted by: brando at January 17, 2005 10:15 PMAnother entry that proves it's best not to cultivate ANY expectations after a scant few weeks of sleeping with someone brand new. Men in cop uniforms are the least reliable of the male species. I can understand mild disappointment, as per your earlier entry, but anger?
Posted by: Katherine at January 17, 2005 10:36 PMAh, Katherine. Nobody asked you to understand. Which is fortunate, because you'd fail to deliver every time.
Posted by: Fish at January 17, 2005 10:56 PMFish beat me to it, but Lady K?
Lighten up - we each deal with things differently.
For instance, I deal with harsh comments by giving you the finger.
I think Fish needs to go through whatever she goes through to get past this. This is what we do. We don't have to be mad for a reason, even. Sometimes being mad just feels so much better than being sad.
Posted by: angie at January 17, 2005 11:07 PMSheets!
I just started dating someone new, and immediately realized I needed new: sheets, jeans, and underwear. And to stock up on beer and soda and other "guy" drinks. I was shopping with one of my male friends, and I asked, how much do you guys really notice this stuff?
The things we do for those unappreciative jerks.
Posted by: Dana at January 18, 2005 07:52 PMI wonder if this will even fit...
I have read your journal for a long time. I love it. I love every word. Yesterday, I wrote in my own journal about my own catapult into singleness and here's what I came up with. I don't know if you can relate, but if you can, soul sister, I just want you to know, I know
Single, This Time
I was thinking about the art of being single, today. I was thinking about it a lot. And being single really is an art, for the effort that goes into it, for its individual expression, for the way others can look upon it and see beauty (or not), for the things it does to your soul.
And being single is always a unique experience, even if it's been repeated a dozen times. Its circumstances always grow out of the context under which it was achieved, and those inform the state it lives in, and how well (or how poorly) it does.
And then there's the question of even being single at all. Do we want it? Must we accept it?
When you get to my age, and you've got a few (or more) hefty relationships under your belt, and you've lived through the "forever, I'm yours" and the "I've met another" bullshit, you sometimes wonder how you manage to do anything other than be single. By this stage, you've got enough education, and baggage, to keep your thoughts and doubts tingling endlessly. The thing is, we're a generation of lunatics. We simultaneously repel love by what we bring to it, which is, unfortunately, a sense of deep suspicion, or worse, the inability to care, (like someone who's had too many electric shock treatments and the sensation of unique appreciation has worn off, and we've become numb); and we desperately crave love, with the idealistic hope that someone will break through and convince us that the failings, the broken promises, the sum total of what we've experienced and been disappointed by, can't possibly be it, right? It can't possibly be all there is to look forward to before we make that grand, final exit, stage left.
But while we're trying to figure all that out, we're single. So what does single look like this time?
Single, this time, means treating myself to Lush bath bombs, and picking out exactly the ones I want. Single, this time, means picking out the movies I want to watch at the video store, and not wondering if I'm going to be a disappointment because I chose "Saved" with that teenage singer-turned-movie-star chick. Single, this time, means walking around downtown and staring in store windows, and seeing the reflection of couples cuddling madly on the streets, and wondering if they really know what they're in for. Single, this time, means there was no choice. Single, this time, means abandoning the games and the schemes and the attempt to be what I think someone else will find charming, or mysterious, or delightful enough to ask out on a second date. Single, this time, means losing a lot of weight, discovering that I am a hot ticket, and finding it not enough anyway. Single, this time, means paying my own bills and wondering how I came to be an adult without even noticing it. Single, this time, means that maybe the world really is as it appears in the movies, surreal and tinged-blue sepia. Single, this time, means there's no Mom to go back to, who will push my bangs aside and stroke my face and assure me that everything is okay. Single, this time, means being glad I'm not 18, but maybe wishing I was still 25, because pushing 30 comes with a lot of pressure.
Single, this time, means a whole host of new discoveries, both amazing and terrifying. That I am, in fact, able to take up completely new interests (the guitar, biology, hair dye, Thomas Merton) and succeed in some of them, if not all of them. That I am, in fact, in danger of becoming an alcoholic, that I've lived through a 15 year depression, that my perfectionism is debilitating. Single, this time, means the need to get my shit together accept that I am not what I thought I was, which is, healthy, strong, resilient, comfortable in my own skin, self-aware. Single, this time, means there's no more wiggle room left for compromising.
Single, this time, is amazing, if not always comfortable. It is hopeful and rich, in a way it never was before. It's beyond merely existing, beyond merely making goals to set my sights upon, beyond merely seeking distraction until the time passes and someone new comes along to fill up my interests.
Single, this time, means honesty and the inescapable fact of it. I am not who you, or I, thought I was. I am capable of deceit, bad decisions, lack of integrity, and my own supreme failing. Single, this time, means looking it all boldly in the face and saying, "Okay. Fine. Now what?"
I wish for you, the next time you find yourself single, this time, some understanding, and if not, the working out of things anyway.
Dearest:
I could opine for hours about the emotional disparities of life...my dad was killed by a train, almost lost my mom twice, and lots of other shit..Bwooo-whooo to me, right?
It's not a matter of who had it worse, Kitten and here's why.
What is complete toilet-shit to me, may either be a walk-in-the-park for you or your worst, most gutteral fuck-suck to you.
If I've had razor-blades and you thorny nettles and each of it was our own worst? Then your thorny nettles are just as bad as my blades.
Copper-rocker didn't work..OK. So now, we put on our steel-toed boots and say "On me deathbed, am I worried about Cop-Rock-Guy, or am I going to worry about the person I WAS."
If you can live with and love and appreciate the person you are in the face of this BS? You will be alright.
I promise.
Posted by: Kristen at January 20, 2005 05:09 AM