Bittersweet

Rainy Thursday

New Girl

I met her in gym class freshman year
Tall freakishly skinny.
She stood a little hunched over, like she was carrying her weight in her back.
Looked like her legs would break.
Bleach blonde hair in a hundred tiny ringlets,
It looked as though she were headed to prom.
Not a stitch of makeup on her face she didn’t need it,
her presence was striking enough.
She came and stood next me, where the class leaned against the padded walls that lined the gymnasium.
Laughing to myself I pictured the gym as an insane asylum
No sharp corners or exposed walls. It may as well have been one
Everyone in this place was out of their fucking mind.
That's giving them the benefit of the doubt, that they had minds of their own.
I assumed the majority of them didn’t.
They had probably lost them sometime between the day they realized that in order to secure their place high in the pecking order they had to abandon all unique and differentiating characteristics they had, and the day when they realized that they spent the majority of their days picking on the people that had decided to maintain dignity and resist the urge to become one of the masses.
I turned to new girl, and sized her up.
I wondered if she had gone through her exorcism already, at her old school.
It was too early to tell.
Her tiny white t-shirt with big maroon letters spelling out A-B-E-R-C-R-O-M-B-I-E
Didn’t give me much hope though.



I passed the principal’s office on my way to lunch, and saw her sitting there on a bench, Like she was about to puke.
She had pin-straight hair now
A year of growing out her perm and cutting it off.
"Hey, you ok?" I asked The school was small, so although we didn’t spend anytime socializing outside the River walls, I considered her...a friend, or something.
She clutched at her sides, "I just have really bad cramps. “My mom's picking me up."
I had never missed school because of PMS-ish symptoms... Well besides the day after I got my period for the first time; I stayed home where I cried under my blankets all day.
New Girl beckoned me over, seeing that the thought of missing school for such a miniscule and treatable (with Advil) discomfort was perplexing me.
"You see…" she whispered in my ear, "One of the reasons I moved here was because, a few years back I got really sick and had an infection in my uterus. I had to get it removed.
Now every month when I'm supposed to get my period my body freaks out, and I get sick. Everyone at my old school knew and thought I was weird. So my mom moved us here."
I pulled away and looked at her. "I’m so sorry, that sucks!"
"Don't say anything about it to anyone, ok?"
"Of course not" I replied as though I was used to be chosen as someone’s confidant." Feel better."
Hoping she wouldn’t see the excitement behind my feigned expression of pity, I turned and walked into the cafeteria with a new and bizarre sense of confidence.


Later that year she disappeared from school for a week.
I didn't really care…
Figured she was on vacation or sick.
A couple girls started to suspect she was on a bender, doing coke, and who knows what else.
By the end of the week a buzz had been growing, spreading from one group to the next that her dad had died.
An overdose on drugs, the night after he sold some to his own daughter.
Went home got fucked up, and died.
I tried to think,
I had never heard anything about her father before, now I understood why.
She came back to class the next week, and no one said a word.
I’m sure her "close" friends attempted to talk to her about it,
But everyone went along as usual,
The only difference was in the hallways, people passing, holding their stare on her fragile frame a couple seconds too long.
Probably thinking the same thing that nagged at the back of my mind, every time I saw her porcelain skin, and meek demeanor,
"How does such a beautiful girl slip out of sight to do the dark and twisted things that we all heard about?"
Poor girl,
First no uterus...
Now, no father.

One day in class I turned and looked at her skinny arm hanging, limp, off the edge of the desk, while her body slumped forward, her head in the crook of her arm.
She had this giant silver bracelet on.
It was molded into the shape of countryside, with houses folding into the hills, sitting under an open sky.
"Hey…Where’d you get your bracelet...I love it."
"Huh..uhhm"
I think I woke her up...It was for own good anyways.
"My sister and her boyfriend took me garbage picking on the side of the highway...I found it." She set her head back down in her arms, tucking her bracelet away into her now, strawberry blonde hair.

I don't know why I was at Becky's birthday party.
She was one of the…"Queen-bees"
Apparently I was being taken under her wing for a while.
Not sure what I had done to "deserve" the special attention.
I was usually content to stay home on weekends and hear about the social events the next week.
Tired of all the fake girls, and their fake squealing hellos, and hugs...I snuck out of the backyard and sat on the curb wondering how long till it was appropriate to leave this godforsaken gathering of idiots.
That’s when New Girl pulled up in her Audi. My longtime best friend sat in the passenger seat.
"Wanna come with us; we're going for a burn run."
"uuuh...ok." I didn't smoke...but I didn’t feel like sitting alone anymore.
I jumped into the back seat, and we took off down the back roads.
"ummm guys??" they both turned back to look at me. Smoke pouring out slowly as she mouthed, "What?"
"You know there's a baby back here right??"
"Oh yeah" she coughed and laughed a little, glanced in the rearview mirror, and said "That’s my sisters kid."

I lost track of her for a while.
I was caught up in my first love.
The ups and downs.
One day sitting on the couch with my boyfriend, we had just finished fighting.
If you can even finish...it’s always bitter...and the buildup is what kills you in the end.
He had disappeared for the weekend. Without calling.
He, being out school, and me, finishing up my senior year...I was always jealous.
I think he was trying to make me laugh…or something. But he decided to tell me a story.
"So I was hanging out on Earl St. with the whole crew (a bunch of guys from the surrounding grades, and New Girl) and we found this leather mask on the side of the road. We were videotaping skate tricks and next thing I know She comes out of the bushes completely naked with the leather mask on!"
Is he seriously telling me this right now, I thought to myself.
The fact that he disappeared without a word was annoying enough, but now he was hanging out with a psycho that gets coked up and dances naked in the middle of a neighborhood, in the middle of the day, in the middle of ORYA soccer practice,
Wearing a leather mask.
"We got it all on videotape! You should see the soccer moms' faces!!"
I got up and walked out the door.
Idiot.

I finished school up a semester before everyone else in my grade...
Broke up with my boyfriend,
Moved to Portsmouth, and pretty much had nothing to do with anyone anymore.
One afternoon passing through my hometown I stopped to pick up something from store 24.
I saw a familiar Audi parked right outside.
I looked to the convenient store and pushing through the front door, I saw her.
The sun shone off her dark brown hair, and her boots went all the way up to her knees.
Her skinny little legs, lost in the dark leather.
Heels made her another 4 inches taller and maybe twice as fragile looking.
From the side she looked like she was about to tumble forward.
Must have been 7 months pregnant.
"Hi!!" she yelled as she swaggered over to me.
One hand on her belly, the other clutching a giant handbag.
"Hey" I said. "It’s been a while…"
"I knowwww!" she had a shit-eating grin on her face. It pissed me off.
I thought about the awkward and tedious routine of small talk that was about to begin, catching up...like we cared.
Fuck it. Fuck this.
I cocked my head to the side, frowning, and with a concerned voice I said, "Wow it must really suck to be pregnant without a uterus."
Her mouth opened and closed.
I could tell she was trying to figure out what I was talking about.
It was then I realized she had no idea, about half the shit that came out of her mouth.
"Have a good one, and...Good luck." you will fucking need it.
I turned on one foot and headed back to my car, without going into the store,
Wondering the whole time, where she had actually gotten her silver bracelet.

In Here

2004.

Steam creeps up the glass door of the shower until I am completely enclosed. The heat pours over my body like a warm embrace. It is so cold out there. In here is where I come to be alone and hide, not only from the world, but from myself. Some days are easier than others. Some days I can be rational and control my fear, reason with my anxiety, and conquer the panic. Today is not one of those days.

The drumming of the water against the shower wall becomes a distant drone, a quiet constant to remind me, I am still here. I don’t like to feel sorry for myself. I know I am fortunate, and I could be dealing with far more serious obstacles on a daily basis, but I can only tell myself to keep my chin up for so long. I need my break down time.

My therapist tells me that heat boosts serotonin levels. Maybe that’s why I feel safe in here. She also tells me to take deep breaths to help calm down. How am I supposed to do that when I don’t even feel like breathing? I’ve been told, by many people, that this is normal. That more people than I would expect suffer from phobias, and panic disorders. I guess that’s supposed to make me feel like I can get through this. It doesn’t make it any easier.

In side these plastic shower walls I’m allowed to be small, scared, and hopeless. My mother doesn’t have to see my tears, and I in turn don’t have to see hers. Years and years of my constant need for security, comfort and safety have left her weary and defeated. In here I don’t have to look at the medicine bottles. Little white capsules that my psychiatrist claims are filled with happiness and reason. The bottles scare me, am I not good enough on my own? I don’t like needing medicine to make me whole. He says they will help, so now I just have to wait.

I close my eyes and think of a simpler time. I remember from a high school psychology class that water, subconsciously reminds us of the womb, therefore of safety and comfort. With this in mind I slowly shift my weight to the side and lower myself onto the bottom of the bath. My cheek pressed against the cold plastic, I pull my knees up under my chin.

Holding myself in fetal position I let the warm water run down my body; surround me. I forget the world, while I try to forget myself. The temperature is slowly cooling, and I know soon the hot water will be gone. I pull tighter around my legs wondering how small I can become, and if I am so small, maybe everything else will seem smaller too.

Inevitably the cold breaks through telling me it’s time to pull myself up again. I stretch my hands over my head, and let the icy water bring me back to my senses. Breakdown time is over. I flip the shower control to off, and with the water, off go my self-pity, and feelings of hopelessness. I wipe away lost tears, take a deep breath, and lift my chin up.

Moutain Town.

I couldn't breath.

Not because the Eliptical was kicking my ass, but because..
well I didn't know why.
All I knew was that I had to get out of the gym.


I grabbed my water and car keys and headed down the steps, pushing through the glass doors And out into the decieving sunlight.

The wind pierced at my body turning my sweat into what felt like Ice.
I hunched over and pulled on my hoodie and windbreaker, turned up my music and walked.

I had a thought as to where I was going.

But it was only 430 and he wouldnt be out of work for quite a while. Besides. What do I want from him? what good can it possibly do?



I decided to just walk, and feel sorry for myself for a while.
Lincoln st is my favorite route to the south side of portsmouth.

Alex woodard sang to me as I kicked tree roots along the sidewalk.
Sunglasses on , off, on again. My face contorting with every cross street.
I wished I could just cry and get it over with. I felt on the edge of something.
The edge of my sanity,
Patience,
Strength,
Life.

I played a song on repeat for the entire walk. It was the only way I could center in on my thoughts.
Try to harmonize the sadness to the "Mountain Town".

I contemplated the options. What did I want to do? And what did I just want to, want to do.
I wanted to walk away.
From what?
Just away.
Doesnt matter what you want.
Only what you do about it.
Sometimes I have the guts, but when it really matters. I dont. not yet.

Not sure why but I took a left down Kent st. I never went this way.
Its always South St.
As I came to the end of the road, and looked down over south mill pond, my eyes settled on that blue.
Sets a panic off in my skin everytime.
The same way his eyes do.


I sat on a bench in the sun and counted down the hour.
What would I do?
Probablly leave when I saw his silohouette coming across the water.
Walk home, and think of all the things I should have said. Should have done.

When the time came. I glanced up and down awkwardlly while I tried to play it off like I hadnt sat waiting for him. But I knew he knew. I didnt mind.

Small talk. But not really.. Small talk is the most important with people you care about.

He put his arms around me, and I held on for dear life.
He sensed the urgency in my embrace and pulled me in close, and hard.
I fell over the edge of whatever I had been balancing on for the past few hours.
Shaking, and silent.
It seems that when You dont have to be your own boundary, and someone else wraps you away, you can let everything melt.

I pulled away and looked up, and his eyes asked me.
I sputtered out "it's not you. or me. Not you and me, I mean. this."
"Ok ok" he said while he pulled me back in.

I didnt need words, and didnt need answers.
There I was, with mascara tears staining my face, in his arms, in the park, in the middle of the afternoon. And I think that is all I wanted.

To be able to let it all go while someone held me together.

With my face pressed into his cotton shirt and his smell setteling throughout my body, our bodies like two edge pieces, I mumbled..
"There's a lot of shitty people, that dont give a fuck... It makes me miss the people that do."
If it were possible, I would have pulled him closer.

Another Beginning

This isn't a story, so that you can feel sorry for me. That is not what I expect. I just want to explain.

I know that there are so many more difficulties in this world that people have to endure.
I have always felt a deep guilt for how I have spent so many days, disabled, by my "condition", when there are millions of people in this world who would die to be in my shoes.
The whole while I was trying to escape my own skin.

My mother always told me to focus on other peoples problems, to think about people that have real things to worry about. She hoped it would distract me from wallowing in my own fears.

Im not implying that she was short with me, or impatient. Without her I don't know how I would have arrived here today, or even if I would have. Period.

You see, I have spent years analyzing, disecting, fighting, bargaining, praying, crying and exploring this crippling fear that has consumed me. I have come to some conclusions:

1)Your fears, problems, and feelings are all relative. You can't compare your reaction to someone elses, or your problems to anothers. You feal, react and function in relation to what you have felt, endured and experienced in your own reality. If you cannot commit to your feelings because of guilt or doubt then you will never be able to confront them, and own them.

2) It's ok, to not be okay.

3)You cannot explain to someone what it is like to have a phobia. Unless they have in someway or another experienced within themselves the complete and terrifying power that the mind can hold over your ability to reason with reality.
The more you explain to someone just how many aspects of your life are completely altered by rituals and techniques in order to avoid some type of mental trigger, the crazier you will seem. People don't understand that a rational and sensible person can fall victim to their own mind. I think people can be unwilling to accept that there are things about us that sometimes we cannot control.

Cold Sheets