There’s something magical about my jujitsu family. 9 of us went out to Rockin’ Taco, a trendy restaurant/bar, after working out yesterday to celebrate Navy chick’s birthday. When I’m with them, I’m back to my goofy self and people laugh with me and are very warm with me, and I’m happy despite the fact that I (and most of the other girls) got kicked in both boobs repeatedly by idiots who are new to the class and can only have been aiming at them during the kick and retreat drills. (I was pissed at this one guy who was playing stupid and when we switched, I kicked him across the mat back into the wall more firmly than I’d normally kick anyone during just a drill.) Anyway, while we occupied the large table and the drinks started coming around, the camaraderie and conversation had us rolling. For a few hours, any cloud that had been hanging over me completely dissipated. There was no gnawing at the back of my head and in the pits of my stomach. I was even able to eat a little. I found out that Navy chick, when she’s not totally makeupless and natural during jujitsu, is totally into her gothic attire and face paint. I had no idea! I told her that a couple of years ago, I was inspired to go goth for Halloween, but the little black goth dress I had in mind (which was PERFECT, antique-looking corset top, short slightly flare skirt, black lace tie in the back) could not be found. I think my mom tossed it. So Navy chick said, “That’s easy, just go through my closet!” She is the type of goth that is trampy lingerie-on-the-outside, holey patent-leather thigh-high boots, dog collar and chain and long cape goth. How cool is that?
After leaving Rockin’ Taco, I drove to Mr. W’s. I accepted that invitation to go over because there was no packing or trip preparation I could do at that hour anyway. I was still glowing from the fun I had with my fellow classmates, but that faded so fast it surprised both of us. As soon as I was next to him, I felt the clouds descend upon me. The tightness in my chest returned. Reality once again gripped me. I never thought he and I would be like this. I’d thought our chemistry and communication was flawless. The distance I felt last nite between us made me miss him so much. I tried to bridge the gap between us by explaining, ad nauseum (and he WAS so, so irritated with me, especially because of the lateness of the hour), why I felt what I felt about our issue, just trying to get him to step into my head for an instant so he’d understand. He said other things that made me more afraid. But what he was steadfast on throughout, was that our current issue is not a threat to the relationship itself, meaning that he won’t let it break us up. To him, it’s just an obstacle we need to figure out and maybe reach a compromise on, and wait for it to be over. My head was bouncing all over the place, grasping at straws to get it to hurt less, such as making myself more physically unavailable, distancing myself emotionally, finding self-destructive things to maybe make him care about me, it even crossed my mind to occupy my time with people he wouldn’t appreciate I socialize with, just so I’d feel like what he does that bothers me is then deserved as my punishment for the wrong I’ve done so I could accept it better. I know this is all really unhealthy rationale, but they’re just desperate thoughts.
And then the drive home this morning. The setting in of the dull numbness. I don’t want to care anymore. In fact, I find it hard to find a shred of caring internally. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. This whole thing is retarded. I’ve retained my original opinion about the situation, but the emotional connection to it is missing. Actually, this dull apathy and general flat affect is preferable to the previous aggravation, but I don’t know if it’s going to last, or whether I’d relapse. Actually, it first made me wonder whether I’d been overemotional about the whole thing due to hormones (I’m PMSing), or maybe it’s that once you’ve been depressed, you’re more prone to relapse into depression because your mind and body and neurotransmitters have established a pathway into that. But I’m just documenting this because I think it’s an interesting psychological process, probably akin to the brain’s selective forgetting of recurring traumatic events, or the brain’s invention of a separate personality. All of them are the mind’s — for lack of a better description — escapist shut-downs in some way to avoid further psychological pain yet still remain essentially functional.
I’ve told more than one person, most recently college roommie Diana, that she’ll keep mulling over her misery until one day, she just snaps internally and become sick of the whole thing and then she can walk away from it. I don’t think she’s there yet, and her problem certainly began way before mine. Maybe she has more tolerance than me by nature, or maybe, like I said earlier, my tolerance is decreased because of prior experience with these all-too-familiar feelings. But my first bout with crap like this, I fought it miserably for years without my emotions being shut down by my brain override, and that sucked more than this.