woopsie

Bonjour, I have Covid.

Wow what a wild and fun time to be alive.

Am I even allowed to write that? Is someone going to censor me for saying that? I’ve had my shots. But this new one is really contagious so I got it. I also had it right when this whole thing started. That first time was a lot scarier. This time I mostly just kind of feel like I’m high.

Earlier I was meandering around my apartment and tidying up. Because if I don’t, no one else is going to. While I was tidying up, I was dancing a little. Even though I was a little dizzy.

But then it hit me how strange it was that *no one* could come into this space and see me right now. How this silly and innocuous little scene was completely closed off from the rest of world (and honestly, it would have been anyway). But now I was officially Sick. So it was closed off for the sake of public safety, not just privacy. That made it feel a little heavier.

I took two tests and both of them had two angry red lines, pretty much instantly. I thought about making a joke that woops, I’d accidentally bought a pregnancy test instead. But I didn’t.

It hasn’t really been all that dramatic. My parents sent me comfort food groceries and I have been playing video games and watching TV all day. I feel loopy and feverish but I’m okay. It’s hot as fuck outside and everything is so weird but I am okay. I feel tired and wired but also okay.

playwrong

I am a playwright. I write plays. Create theater.

So what happens when I cancel a show that I wrote? And read long guilt trip texts from my now-super-pissed director? And write apology emails to the entire cast, and the people running the theater? Am I still a playwright then?

What am I when I completely lose my inspiration and don’t want to do this anymore? When thinking about it makes me heavy with dread?

If I’m not a playwright, do I become No Longer Interesting? Do I find something new to do? Some way to be creative that actually feels fun?

I don’t know. But when a lot of people are angry, you tend to just mostly feel like a goblin who has ruined everyone’s time.

dreams!

I don’t usually sleep much on a full moon, but this time was different. So many dreams! I only remember a couple.

The dream where your teeth fall out. I had an extremely elaborate version of that. It boggles my mind that my dream made them feel so weak. Like they could be knocked out by the lightest touch. And then it’s permanent irreparable damage. Or at least it seems that way. The faux-physical feeling though. That’s the craziest part. Your brain trying relentlessly to convince you that this time, unlike all the others, is the truth.

The other one was just crying. I don’t remember many details. Just lots of sobbing. Grief-based. At nighttime. While hugging someone I couldn’t see.

It’s a full moon in Sagittarius. So you’d think the dreams would be, I don’t know, a little more gregarious. But here we are. Sobbing in dreams and trying to crawl back onto the internet while also being freaked out by it.

notes on fading a little

I went dark on social media. Because things were feeling overwhelming and I wanted peace. Stayed off for the span of a Mercury retrograde. Now that is over.

But I have to be honest. I haven’t gone back on yet. I don’t think I want to.

Everything is just… a lot. Still. I thought going offline would bring some sort of relaxed exhale, but it just clarified the parts of my brain and heart that hurt. The clarity is nice — just not exactly blissful.

Good things did happen. A lot of them did, actually. Dating certainly did not slow down. My play is going to a festival this summer. And I got back to therapy yesterday!

Because it turns out, you don’t have to do this alone. People want to help you. And that already feels so much better.

eclipse after a birthday

I’ve been learning about myself. That’s all I ever seem to do.

The sky rumbles and planets crash into each other and you think, is this really going to affect me this time? And then you’re awake at 3 AM in a panic over how invisible you are. But you’re not.

I get lost in my own head. A personality test revealed this even though it is so obvious. I get lost but it doesn’t feel lost. It feels like reality. That’s the danger of it.

So many stories to tell you, sweet one. It was my birthday and I didn’t tell anyone. Bought myself a cake and threw most of it in the trash (sorry).

When your tendency is to lose yourself in your own thinking, a solution is to make contact with other people. This can feel awkward and anxiety-inducing in its own right. And that’s ironic. But it’s still what you should do.

So on Friday I did that. My friend is a songwriter and he was having a show. He hadn’t performed in 3 years. So I thought yes, I will go to this and pretend to be the cool girl whose friend is the lead singer. Even though the idea gives me nervous stomach.

Sometimes you step out of what’s comfortable and everything feels weird. Other times you do that and you find a seat, the venue is cozy, and your friend plays music that hits the exact soothing spot you needed. Then you hug him after the show and he asks if he looked nervous.

I’m so good at telling myself stories that sometimes I paralyze myself.

vulnerability hangover

Okay but what was the point of that. Why did we open our hearts up and why did I cry and why did we journal about each other if none of that changes anything.

This is my stubborn contradiction. I crave closeness. Emotion. Connection. Then I get it but sometimes it feels suffocating. I float out of myself and ask “why did you do that? was there a reason to open up those old wounds?”

We broke up three years ago and I knew I was over him. We are still in touch. He mails me postcards but I look at them with a kind of detached fondness, oh that’s nice. But last night I was typing on my phone, bearing more of myself than maybe he deserved to see. Tears pouring because something had been newly reopened and for what purpose. Healing? Is that what this is?

At what point are we just picking at things for the sake of feeling something? What’s the difference between “doing the work” and just plain hurting yourself?

“I’ve changed so much.” he said.

“You have and you haven’t.” I replied.

write where it hurts

I read a playwright’s bio because I want a reference for my own. Hers is a page long, spectacular. Award winning. Artistic residency. Mine is a paragraph.

At my most masochistic, I scroll through a theater’s “Past Playwright Fellows” section to see if any of them have blonde hair. They don’t.

Obviously that doesn’t matter. Everything relies on the writing. Regardless of what’s happening or how you feel. Did you write it down? It is a muscle and a meditation practice. It is blissful catharsis and maddening frustration. And you show up for it, always. Look at whatever is felt and write it out.

After work, he comes over and reminds me of my masochism in other ways. It looks scary but is consensual. Pain on my terms.

Then he let me in on darkness from his past. Traumas that bubbled up when he saw a play. Memories that he can only start to process now. None of my words felt helpful so I just listened and wrapped myself tighter around him. Closeness.

Do I write a play about the healing power of getting my hair pulled? Do I want to turn a spotlight on something so raw?

He went home and I fell asleep at 9:30. Woke up feeling clear.

Then this morning my ex revealed that he is also polyamorous. This wasn’t a surprise but it did set off a lot of sparks in my brain. Questions. Curiosity. Anxiety (because of course).

When we were together, I was so scared and jealous at the end. I shoved all of it away because my heart was bruised. I was scared of that pain.

But why did I act like that? If we are the same, then why couldn’t I have let him do what I also wanted to do? Why did it take pandemic loneliness for me to lean into this?

He asked me if I was dating multiple people. I really did not want to know if he was. The old fear bubbles right back up. Dating people does not mean you are not available. But tell that to my primal abandonment terror.

And anyway this ex is now in a completely different state so what’s the point, what are you even feeling?

It’s mostly just the ego not wanting to be hurt again. Especially not by this person who has accidentally hurt it so many times already.

Oops sorry I didn’t know how to communicate and neither did you so we left marks and scars on each other’s hearts.

I grow and make choices. And I still get hurt and skitter off like a frightened animal at times. I guess none of this was meant to make those feelings go away. But at least we’re still in each other’s lives, even after all of that.

it’ll feel so good when you jump in

Veil thins and teal dye tempts.

Remind the world that you’re a mermaid.

 

The tease of dreaminess. 

Lose yourself but be careful.

 

On dates with her, adventure tends to bubble.

The coffeeshop is closed but we sneak in anyway.

There’s an event.

They give us free drinks

As if we signed up for any of this.

 

Or we’re in a bar that doubles as an old-world wax museum.

She takes pictures of me but the backgrounds are grotesque.

The bartender apologizes for something and she compliments his apron.

He blurts out that we’re both sexy.

I laugh but mostly I just feel dizzy.

 

I get anxious over lonely nightmares and dreams coming true.

I’m not always sure what my dreams even are.

 

A tidal wave of iridescent bliss hits my imagination

And I worry that I’ll miss it

Or not take correct advantage of it.

 

The mermaid sees the wave and dives into it.

Without fear, without thought

Just warm water and sunlight

Moving her body as it was always meant to move

Pleasure without overthink.

 

If you let yourself get swept up

You will not drown

As long as you remember to breathe.