Saturday, September 24, 2011

The Move and the Mind Fuck: Good God, I lived to tell the tale . . .

So the next two weeks were miserable.

The morning after I broke up with Alan, I felt sick from self-loathing and general hatred towards the universe. I always go through this period of shock and regret .  . . should I have broken up with him? Was it my fault? Was it too soon? I should have given this time to breathe.

I am not very patient.

That next day I worked LET’S MAKE A DEAL and went over to Frank’s afterward to do my laundry. I texted him I broke up with Alan and needed to self medicate. By the time I got over there, he had a packet of coke waiting for me and $150 to help with the new place.

As I ground down the nugs into fine powder, I asked him to read the GChat of Alan’s giant stinking dump on my life and tell me if I was overreacting.

As Frank scrolled through, I heard the occasional gasp or groan. I would rush over and ask, “What is it?”

He said, “Don’t look at it. You don’t need to read this again.”

I changed out of my LET’S MAKE A DEAL costume and hung out in boxers and a t-shirt, sipping wine, snorting coke and chain smoking. Frank took a picture of me on his doorstep, it really captured how broken I am. Its not about Alan, just the hope of Alan.

I had texted Alan a few afterthoughts to float around in our muck.

“I am actually a great girl- just need to get on my feet. Someday I will be someone great I hope. And maybe you will like me.”

“I saw you changed your Facebook relationship status and felt sad. I thought we could talk while I had reception.”

“Did you have to tear me apart in a dark hour? I trusted you with all of me and now its just gone.”

Alan: “You broke up with me in a text message during class. YOU DID THIS. I might talk to you someday. . but now? You have got to be fucking joking.”

The deal with getting the coke was only contingent on also getting xanax. Using the two, one when I got up in the morning and get through days of heartache, moving, working then more moving and one to allow me to sleep so I wouldn’t die. 

The week before, I had asked for 3 days off to move my things into Dora’s studio while Alan was in town, but there was a scheduling mishap; they had plans and were unreachable, and I didn’t have the key. So I had to move during a week where I had two days off. One day would be allotted to moving all my stuff to the new place. The other day would be the devoted to cleaning out my old place.

The days I worked, I got up, snorted coke, hiked the dogs and tried to make a trip to the new place with a load before my shift and then another after.

Frank, loyal as ever, was there with me. Mostly he smoked cigars and Facebooked while I organized everything.  I just wanted the company.

Though I was busy, losing Alan broke my heart into smaller pieces, whatever was left over from earlier this year. I was a mess at work. During this text message exchange:

Alan: “I reflected on what we talked about and realized it doesn’t matter if I meant what I said that shitty night. I spoke what was on my mind and you left me. It was nice to be able to pretend I was part of something special for awhile, but there is no way I will ever be able to trust you enough to be honest again and what I feel or think. You were right to end things.”
Me: “I agree. I reviewed the conversation and could never trust someone who took huge dumps on my life without logical provocation. And if you thought so little about me- we should not be together. I am sorry it ended this way, but you and Jaq make a perfect couple- judging people and their lives instead of seeking to understand and appreciate them. I deserve better. And thanks for texting me your base and self-centric ideas, always far superior to me . . . I showed you nothing but respect and love. “

I am scrolling down the text messages as I write this. More of the same. We struck nasty, cold messages back and forth like a small ball of power, crossing violently from court to court.

I was actually holding out hope he would be sorry and explain why he said such hateful things to me until that afternoon. I broke down crying on the doggie playground. Sasha, my hot, tatted bi-sexual manager, pulled me off the playground. I kept chain smoking and trying to drink water.

I was making those hyperventilating sobs, the kind I made when I was six. Everyone was trying to calm me down, Trent, the receptionist, a co-worker who defriended me because I used the bitch voice on him once, even the sarcastic, Filipino Human Resources woman who violates every labor law known to America. They all hugged me. They took turns carrying my shift when I had to sit down from sobbing.

I told Trent I am going to fucking kill myself. I can’t live with losing everyone I love like this, hating me. Em, Abe . . . my parents. Its like every one who sees the real me, despises me and then destroys me.

Alan: “As for being mean to you. . you hurt me really bad and keep contacting me . . making it worse. . what do you expect? Me to be happy?”

Alan: “Wishing you had never met me . . . yeah . . . join the club. . its got a big membership list . . also fuck you for that . . I just want time away from you. . you hurt too bad . . “

At the end of my shift, Trent joined me on the playground and I just broke down. Something about hugs reduced me to a sobbing mess, no matter who it was. Trent said, “I hate seeing you like this. Come on. You are beautiful, you are smart …”

I said, “Why does everyone I love have to tear me apart?”

Trent was getting misty watching me sob, “Because they just see a lot of potential and they don’t understand.”

The only thing that got me through that week was Frank, the drugs, the dogs and the move.

I am not an idiot. I know that Frank wants to have sex with me. And I would be lying if I said we didn’t fool around. Despite the underlying motives, I needed someone around me to just be there. I was periodically sobbing between loads, between lines.

He held me on my mattress, dragged out to the living room floor, alone with just my computer and he buried his face in my neck and said, “Do you want to hear good things about yourself?”

I nodded.

He said, “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re a great writer.”

I said, in that high pitched six-yearr-old voice, “I am?”

Alan: “No question of why I might have been so upset.. no concern about what happened.. you don't care because I didn't listen to you complain and say what u wanted to hear.. just let's break up, by text message no less.. that's pretty selfish and juvenile.. u want to fuck up what we have over petty shit without a chance to mend.. fine.. but its your fault and your doing..
Enjoy your life.. you are all that matters right?”

Alan: “How do you not understand?  You did this.  You crossed the only line I had.  This isn’t the first time I loved someone who cared so little they could end things through a fucking text message.  I've seen worse.  But this manipulative crap about how you dumped me for good reasons bullshit makes me so angry.  And breaking up with me via TEXT MESSAGE.  Damn you for making me keep doing this. Leave me alone.  I don't trust you to look out for anyone but yourself.. why else would you keep doing this?  Its so YOU can feel better.  So you can have what YOU need.  So take care of yourself.  That's all I wanted when I got angry at you Wednesday anyway.”

I would cry when the sun was down and I was done with the last load of the night. There was nothing to do but take the pain away with my magic fairy dust.

If someone gave you a small baggie of powder that made you feel ok again, in a matter of seconds, would you turn it down? I was battling thoughts of suicide. I hated myself. Its not just Alan, its the never ending spiral of financial crisis, the getting fired by bosses who hated me, the never booking commercial work, the crisis I created for myself taking in all these animals and refusing work that comes with any kind of security.

I have obviously created a pattern for myself, I struggle, I fail, form fast/intense bonds with people and then it all blows up in my face. Nothing gets better, it just repeats. And that, my friends, is hell.

I was already thinking about a suicide note, dropping Brad off with Alan and Wilson. I had the key to his apartment. I could just disappear down there in Mexico or by the border somewhere. The pit bulls, but what about the pit bulls? My parents are too old to handle them and my sister lives in a 2nd story condo that looks like a museum.

No one would take them.

I am sure Belle (my cat) would stay with Dora . . . maybe. She keeps pissing on their fridge.

Over a small ashtray, I had several fine lines of coke laid out for me. I would hover over them sobbing, “The more people get to know me, the more they hate me.” I could feel my tears streak down my face with trails of dust and dirt spilling over my cheeks just before drying and rising off of me like sand surviving the ocean waves.

I stopped sobbing only long enough to do a few lines. And then I would quiet and collect myself.

Frank, “This is the most unhealthy thing I have ever seen.”

Me to Alan: “Relationships aren't perfect, they have missteps and heartache and bad words. I want to know the man I love doesn't think I am a total fuck-up. I am still struggling with those words you said and trying to tell myself you don't think those things, that I am an ok girl.”

Me to Alan: “A bonus would be to know we can make it through bad days, find a new way to communicate so I don't press like I did when you were having a rough day. Work on it. Develop trust and get through stupid shit together.

Stop hurting us, you aren't just hurting me, you are hurting us.

My Alan ... I miss my Alan ... you were my family and now you just cut me off.”

Alan: “I can't promise anything.. especially when being pushed into it.  I do believe what I said.  I do think you are wasting the chances you are given to accomplish what you want in life and I think you are lying to yourself about being happy or confused about what happy is.  It hurts to watch that and to just have to accept that you know what you are doing when you obviously don't.  So if you can't handle me saying what I believe honesty like that or worse then you are incapable of being in a relationship with me.  I feel that I have to tell you the truth or nothing.  But I wouldn't leave you. Only one of us thinks that's a more justifiable way to hurt someone than fucking TALKING.  That's why I want to be left alone.  Talking to you is just pain and nothing else now. “

Me: “I guess you just don't understand me . . . or care to then . . . I care about your opinion but not when it lashes out in an abusive fashion.

There is talking to someone about the truth with advice as a caring adult and equal and then there is repeatedly slapping me in the face with scarring remarks. No, I can not live with that.

I don't deserve to be cut down to size and made to apologize for instinctively walking away from it. That's not fair. And if you don't see that, you are simply incapable of a relationship.

I tried.


Alan: “You just said everything about as correctly as possible. We both found
our limits at the same time.  We can love each other as much as is possible and there's still no way to fix this.  I guess I don't need time to think after all.


I was averaging 5 to 6 hours of sleep, forcing myself to eat at least a bean and rice burrito once a day, maybe a slice of bread with peanut butter on it.

I wasn’t tired, I was hyper-efficient. I had already organized the new space and just had to push through cleaning up the old place. I was smoking so much, my lungs burned. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to get buried in all my useless junk and die in a pile of ashes.

Blogger cut off my blog: read more@

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Breaking Up with Alan

It has been over a month since I have been able to write. There was a fight, there was the move, there was cocaine, there was a lot.

I will try to start from the beginning and find my path to where I am now. This blog might keep me sane.
A month ago, Alan and I were GChatting.

I post dogs who are facing euthanasia on Facebook. I have been defriended for it, but its my responsibility to try to network those dogs. Of the 50 or so I see a day, I try to repost a handful.

Alan was upset about a senior dog with health problems, who was about to be put down at a shelter. The dog was rescued.

Alan: and i just saw your text msg about the little dog
im glad it got adopted.. i saw that little guy in my head all day after you posted
it made me so sad.. he was in a cage on newspaper frowning

Me: I know
I look at them all day
tons of them
but people will ignore if I am not sparing

Alan: every other day or so one of them gets to me and i get tempted
that was the strongest
i have a soft spot for old dogs nobody wants..
just.. no money or room

Me: I know, me too
sick dogs
old dogs
like us
someday . . . I would like to have something real to help
I really love taking care of them

Alan: you’ll get there
if our reject parents could manage some level of success, we’ll be fine

Me: hahaha

Alan: too harsh?

Me: and that is the truth!
my parents are total rejects

. . .

Something about pregnancy is alluring
something I would love to experience and write about

Alan: interesting..
well that’s sure the wrong reason to do it if i ever heard one

Me: but the last thing the world needs is another asshole

Alan: but we’ll think about right ones some other day

Me: I see a lot of misery

Alan: yea yea

Me: and a lot of problems

Alan: you can only make a dick or a pussy
and some of them aren’t even satisfied with that

Me: ha
My sister won’t have kids
I am the last chance to carry out the bloodline
I don’t know
I was sure about it once, now I just think the world is fucked

Alan: Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding,
The cretins cloning and feeding,
And I dont even own a tv,


This is the last conversation with Alan where I thought we had a future together. It felt so good to feel that way again. I thought he understood me and we were going to carve out our own world together.

Life started to really suck. Unemployment had me on a break in my benefits, I was awaiting approval for the next cycle and could only claim one week from the end of this cycle.

Unfortunately, they kept rejecting my claim and sending me a new form for that same week at the end of July over and over. By the fourth time, I was a month behind on my benefits.

I contacted them, and they apologized and confirmed the delay and duplicates were in error, I was approved for the next cycle but still had one more week to claim on the last cycle. Again, the form was rejected and I was sent a duplicate.

I had no money for rent at the place in Pasadena where I was, and no money for the new place I was about to move into.

My paycheck for Doggie Daycare was incredibly weak because I have been taking off every other weekend to be with Alan.

I was upset and freaking out. Trent was going to loan me money, but he was fined $600 by the IRS and was now getting bills from an ambulance that was called on his Turkish Cab Driver incident.

Seeing as I floated Alan the few weekends he was here on food, candy and soda- I thought I could find a way to ask him to loan me the money. I hate borrowing money, but if anyone could make the sting bearable, it would be the person I go down on twice a day.

Roughly about a week and change from our last conversation, we had the following one:

Me: I really need to talk to you

Alan: um.. hi?

Me: I am freaking out

Alan: i got that.. take a breath and smoke a bowl.. you’ll get through it

Me: I know neither of us are good at this relationship thing
but all day I was thinking that we could talk and you could make me feel something
pragmatic thinking with love
and I know when you make it by yourself, its hard to drum up sympathy for people complaining about it
when you made it through
and this far without a girlfriend holding you and helping you
but I need you to help me

Alan: how?

Me: help me come up with a plan
just tell me that I am not fucked

Alan: you’re not.. and i already told you the plan. cancel your rent check, end the fees.. pay your rent with dora.. fuck that old apartment.. and get on your feet so you can pay your old debts
you can’t fix shit right now.. you are too in the hole
juggling too much is making us both insane.. so just start finding things to drop

Me: i am trying
money and moving out is a priority
my only priority
and it feels endless

Alan: you make it that way
that’s why i stopped faking nice.. it appears to be a waste of both of our time
you’re just going to argue with me if i try to sound hopeful
and i love waking up to being argued with :P
you do hurt me when you talk about money every day.. like i can magically fix things..
I cant.. and telling me every day about things that i can’t help you with.. hurts..

Me: but baby, that’s a relationship

Alan: i know.. its just hard to separate lover advice from realist advice

Me: lovers don’t give advice, they give hope
realists give advice
and a good relationship has both

Alan: realist Alan is annoyed as hell.. lover Alan just wants to make everything better

Me: how do you think I feel when you are in agony after finals or your mom doesn’t call you on your birthday. you think that’s a party for me?

Alan: that’s the worst part.. you’d make your condition worse to be there for me
which makes things worse for me..
i love you but your life is seriously fucked up.. you have to know that
do you really think it wouldn’t affect me to see that?

Me: its not that fucked up

Alan: no it really is

Me: I work
I have lots of love
I satisfy my thirst for adventure

Alan: you work for shit wages at a meaningless job with the excuse that you do it for the friends, even though you hate most of your co-workers

Me: not true
I work there because I love it
and it keeps me emotionally balanced when dealing with rejection every day

Alan: and you can’t get by without that?

Me: doing . . .
Alan: what are you doing now?

Me: I audition all the time
I also write

Alan: writing is good.. the auditioning might need to stop since you can’t afford the time or gas..
you really are that broke

Me: then I would surrender my identity and goals.
Maybe we should take a break . . .

Alan: yes.. you would.. because you can’t afford them
that is how i did it.

Me: give up

Alan: ‘give up’ is the wrong word.
you come back to the things that matter.. even stronger
because they matter
but you really are in bad shape.. i mean look at your house.. for you to say you are fine is ridiculous
you be a realist for a moment :P what hurts me is sugar-coating life all the time.. its not how i function
especially right after i wake up..

Me: yes, you mentioned that

Alan: you want to break up because I’m telling you how i actually feel.. fine.. but I’m ignoring you about that decision till tomorrow because i assume you’ll regret even mentioning it :P
so try that crap again in the morning if you mean it

Me: I never said we should break up

Alan: i’ll tell you no then too

Me: I said maybe I should disappear and get back on my feet

Alan: ‘take a break’

Me: and not yearn for your comfort
that’s right

Alan: I’ve heard that one before..

Me: Let me move and get a savings account going
borrow money from some men who want to bang me
and get happy
then we can go out
and maybe I can be the girl you want then

Alan: you are the girl i want now

Me: but right now, I guess, my life is too fucked up to include another person

Alan: but if i can’t angrily rant and rave and bitch about whatever without you doing this right here.. you won’t last long
so again, no to taking a break
and don’t mention it again :P
this voice.. this is really how i talk to myself all of the time.. pragmatism in overdrive
sometimes its all i have
i don’t know how to console or be nice to people.. i just fix things.. i can’t fix your things.. and that hurts
and i can’t even bitch about that or i get some crap about ‘oh let’s take a break, you don’t mind being alone because I have problems, right?’

Me: i need consolation and nice

Alan: so do we all.. it doesn’t come on demand
have you considered that believing you have someone to rely on all the time is partially responsible for you not fixing your problems when they arise?

Me: no
because i never have anyone to rely on
Trent was good tonight

Alan: so your friends don’t get that then
if you don’t have anyone to rely on :P 

Me: I don’t reach out to them
only when I am distracted and near tears at work
all of us at work have been through major transitional shifts this year
two of us moved out of significant others, long relationships
5 years plus and started over
Trent was unemployed and injured without insurance for 2 months
We all have been there for each other
and I love them
my cat died and they all covered my shifts until my hands healed
and bought me a bottle of Jack Daniels
we are there for each other

Alan: and i see why you love them.

Me:  Its been a shitty year for all of us
and Doggie Daycare moves my shifts for me
they loan me money
they hug me when I need it
even the ones I don’t like

Alan: and they keep you living like you’re 19

Me: You are mistaking a job I like for lack of maturity

Alan: no I’m not

Me: as if I haven’t lived in your world

Alan: you live like a teenager
a paycheck and a mature social base would change that.. just because you had bad experiences with douchebags in the past doesn’t mean you will in the future
and great places like dog sitters are also filled with douchebags

Me: take a career I don’t love
to take up time to do things I do love

Alan: its not a career

Me: to hang out with a mature social crowd and listen to stories of babies and houses
an office job
a . . . what?

Alan: ..
so doggie daycare is your career?

Me: Doggie Daycare enables me to pursue creative ambitions

Alan: so would having a job with an actual paycheck so you don’t end up looking like a bag lady when you do your creative ambitions
you’ve seen them at auditions I’m sure

Me: I see women who work as waitresses and whore themselves
or rich kids

. . .

Me: Atleast, if I die tomorrow, I would be happy

Alan: if you die tomorrow your dogs are fucked because all your friends are broke and you have no support structure beyond them.

Me: Ok, well you talk to Wilson about his quality of life, and I will consult with mine

Alan: imagine what basic life insurance coverage could do :P
real jobs have that

Me: I am beginning to see you don’t understand me
I have had insurance
and I have had real jobs
I have dated men older than me
I have been to dinner parties
I have a 401 K somewhere
I had a doctor
I had everything
and, wow, here is a shocker, I was still miserable

Alan: and here’s one.. you are miserable now

Me: no I am not

Alan: just because you dump it on other people doesn’t change it

Me: Wow, ok
Ok, Alan
thank you for being candid with me
I do appreciate the honesty

Alan: why do you think you can’t keep friends around?

Me: but, I don’t really respond to tough love
or misconstrued ideas about me or my life

Alan: you get comfortable and make them responsible for your suffering

Me: I cant keep friends around
Ok, Alan

Alan: then they run
and you get mad at them for betraying you
like you’re getting mad at me now :P 

Me: Alan, I love you
but this is too much
I am glad I know now
what you think of me
instead of later down the line
but thank you
this has been unbelievably fascinating
I am going to go to bed
and factor in all your ideas
and wonder how the fuck I fell for someone who thinks so little of me
and never make that mistake again

Alan: ..

Me: take care
Alan: that’s what I’m talking about right there

Me: go back to sleep
eat better
you will find what you want somewhere else
but not here

Alan: ..

Me: I am cold and upset
I am going to watch Dexter
and start over tomorrow

Alan: you’ll do fine.. you always do

Me: yup
bye, Alan

An hour later . . .

Alan: I’m sorry i hurt your feelings even more than they were.. when you are hurt i feel hurt, and i get defensive..
really.. if you want to know what I’m thinking.. put yourself in my shoes.. that’s how i tend to know what you are thinking
we’re too similar
now go to bed.. there’s no reason being awake helps either of us right now..


The next morning I broke it off. I ripped out my heart and started to figure out how I was going to save myself.
Was it wise to destroy the affair? To push someone away even harder than they were pushing me, even if they had good intentions? Probably not.

I tend to overreact, but that’s love. (And I am sorry, I am just catching this . . . “So you don’t end up looking like a bag lady when you do your creative ambitions?” FUCK YOU)

And the next week, after the change of relationship status, and defriending and cold, brief messages, the breaking down to cry at work, the chain smoking and drugs . . . we agreed to see each other, after I moved.
To be continued . . .