I Wanna Be Sedated...

Those were the words that blared from the speakers at The Gin Mill tonight, as I stood there, a reluctant bar girl, looking in on the outside of a group of work friends as they drank (I was done, three glasses of wine, thanks very much), and I listened to the familiar strains and thought..."Yeah, I really do, actually..."
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I want to not feel what I am feeling, live through what I am living, experience the aching feeling welling up in my chest: I wanna be sedated. But I can't be. I won't be. I don't do drugs, street or prescription, and I pride myself on being someone who lives more in a day than most people do in a lifetime...this just isn't me, wanting to surrender, give in, give up, give over to something nameless and faceless and benzodiazepine-like...

How did I get here? How is this the end of the road? It's a long sordid story, and I'm not all that sure I feel like telling it tonight, or at all, but I'll give you some of the high(low)lights:

1) I went to Buenos Aires. I know, I know, that is not a lowlight. In fact, it was probably two of the best weeks of my life. From the minute I stepped off the airplane, onto that warm, arid, latin soil, saw the bluest blue of the jacaranda, smelled the diesel that filled the air, surrounding the crumbling Napoleonic tenements, I knew I was home. I loved everything about the place, from the wine, to the warmth of the people, to the neverending tango, to the mere fact that I was existing, experiencing every moment, living life more than I have in years. I danced day and night, letting the tango drench my soul, filling it with some nameless, faceless quality it has been missing (recognition? love? acceptance? lust? I have no idea...). Brigit and I had the time of our lives, and I miss it every day. Actually, every day that goes by it just seems more and more like a mirage, and less and less like it happened.

2) I came back. With a resounding thud as I hurtled towards the earth, smashing my bones and sinews to smithereens upon impact. Ok, maybe not literally. Re-entry was awful. While I was away, I came to the very bleak, brutal, yet somehow liberating realization that I am utterly unhappy in my career; totally and completely miserable in this dreadful fellowship, and probably doomed to be miserable if I should choose to stay in a career in Neurology in particular and medicine in general. But, really, who in their right mind would choose that? So, I've been making steps, talking to people, had one of the most difficult meetings of my life last week with my boss (an epic 4 hours!), in which we talked about Hegel, Kierkegaard, marriage, hope, the meaning of existence, and other trivialities...It was one of the most intense moments of my life. I still don't have the answers, any of them...if anything I just have more questions, which is as it should be. And as Rilke says, learn to love the questions...

3) I turned 35. SIGH. It was hard, but it all happened so fast I really didn't have time to mourn my youth, as it were. I feel distinctly old. Sad. Tragic. Like it is all over. Like life has passed me by. Like I was really fucking hot for a good decade there, only I didn't quite know it and now I have all these wrinkles and cellulite and it just sucks, because not only did I not meet or fuck anyone then, but I'm certainly not meeting or fucking anyone now. Which of course brings me to the marriage and children rant, of which you have all heard enough. It's just. Not. Happening. So give up, Brainy, do something like save the world, and fucking move on.

4) So, then I met someone. (Collective GROAAAAAAAAAAAAAN from the peanut gallery). IknowIknowIknowIknowIknow. No point in even talking about it, because guess what??? IT IS ALREADY AS GOOD AS OVER!!!!!!!!!!! Yup. Another one bites the dust. I have managed to trash/sabotage/destroy/fail to achieve yet another promising relationship. Only I didn't fail. He did. And I just have to fucking believe that, otherwise I just won't be able to carry on. He is/was great. An epidemiology professor-turned-filmaker (still has his day job, mind you), so we have the whole medicine-artsy thing going for us. Adorable. Charming. Shy. Brilliant. Was completely taken with me. Obsessive, even, one could say. And then the EXACT SAME THING that always fucking happens happened: he freaked himself out and we have not seen eachother in almost three weeks. Oh, he still calls (rarely) and emails and texts and IMs me to death. Just won't see me. Always has a litany of excuses. Tonight he cancelled for the upteenth time. "Feeling sick." If he hadn't called the other night sounding like total crap I would seriously send a hit man over to his place. Still, it smacks of total fucking lameness. I just DO NOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME understand how a guy could be this ambivalent about someone like me; I do not inspire ambivalence. Love, hate, intense passion, maybe, but not this "gee, dunno, I'll call you" bullshit. It is enough to make one clinically insane. And I am on my way there...it's not a far journey given my current mental state.

So, here it is. My life. As it were. A mess. A total, utter fucking disastrous mess. I'm in a job I despise, still terminally single, a year older yet no wiser...when does the madness end???????? When do I get to have some semblance of a "normal" life? A life that makes me happy? Inspired? Loved? Is that EVER going to happen??????????????????????

And the fucking holidays are just around the corner...which is fabulous. Not only will I be alone at Xmas, I will be working. I can't go home, I have no friends here, no plans, but to sit in a dark room and rock. Yeah, rocking sounds pretty good right about now. And then New Year's Eve. Another holiday I look forward to with joyous anticipation...alone, as always, the clock will chime midnight, marking time marching on, the close of what was supposed to be MY year, my lucky 2006 year, watching couples intertwined, gazing longingly or lustfully through champagne coloured lenses, kissing, ringing in the new year, as I stand there pressed up against the glass, on the outside looking in on others' lives...a thoroughly familiar place to be.
I just can't do it anymore. Be optimistic. Cheery. Don't give up hope! My friends chant: It'll get better! You're bound to meet someone! It could happen tomorrow!
Yes. It could. And I could grow wings and fly off to Swaziland. I could win the lottery (if I bought tickets). I could become immaculately pregnant. I could discover a cure for cancer. Lots of things could happen.

The real question is what IS going to happen...and to that I do not have any answer...

Comments

[brainygirl]

just for those of you wondering about my mental and overall health, I'm fine...that's what this blog is for, getting all of this out so it doesn't eat away at me...Last night was particularly tough, as are most nights, including tonight, but I'm hanging on.