what a week

Whew. Well I feel very alive - very no appetite. I had a breakdown in the street on... I think it was Wednesday night. I wrote an email to my mother that morning thinking I'd explain that the attitude I have that gets me yelled at is derived of feelings from the past. What a mistake that was. When I read her response between shows I was on site for Wednesday (Tuesday?) I just lost it lost it lost it.

I don't think I have the most amazing therapist, but I think he's basically passable and maybe this is what the "working on" "dealing with" which I have been not understanding the meaning of is about perhaps. I feel a little asanine because I have Everything Else in the world aside from a mother with whom I'm on the same page and who doesn't think I'm extremely disturbed / dead with a new girl in my place. That's just one thing. I have an entire supportive fun wildly functional family in addition to hers and a brother and sisters who I'm sure are completely my friends and family even on hers. Growing up, eventhough I was punished willy nilly, I had crazy great friends and still do.

But maybe even at 28 you have to face reality sometimes and weep on the street about whatever your baggage is. Which you don't get to pick. Maybe the weeping is kind of the dealing.

Since le breakdown, I've been kind of walking around in this daze of thinking about it. Doesn't feel bad - just a little out of body. These are the times people ask you out on the street by the way. When you're walking around in post-breakdown world mind-reviewing what you articulated even if only to yourself times. When you might have remembered to put on makeup if you'd remembered to brush your teeth or eat anything in two days (don't get me wrong - my dress, shoes, and sunglasses still looked damn good - I was just out of body in my head). This lawyer guy was all hey aren't we walking down the same street on the very same day yesterday and I gave him my number and went to his office for a drink (he has a bar in his office? More like alcohol in a cabinet and a plastic shaker with ice) after work. Well he's divorced with two kids. And says "Copa" for good. But he's pretty nice and I guess we'll date during the summer. 2 kids is a lotta kids though. I wanna date everyone all kinds this summer.

Yesterday I was sort of smiling all day because my mom's big thing is that I was disobedient which I dispute with her but - heh ha - is really completely true. ;)She continues to defend trying to physically remove me from a friend's house when she'd really upset me calling me dirty and punishing me as usual over finding out about me having had sex. So, basically, I went to a friend's house for the night to calm down and I disobeyed when she ordered me to go home with her and she tried to drag me out of there and I wouldn't budge and it was all so dramatic and awful that suddenly the world made sense and I called my dad and I went and lived with him for the rest of high school (one month) and summer before college. I am like the Ghandi of my own mental health. It wasn't civil disobedience; it was free-Alexis disobedience.

I do get upset about the whole obedience argument because I think obedience is the primary thing for dogs, soldiers, and maybe, uh, geishas, but not seventeen year old girls with As and Bs and "withdraw passing"s in Math and very messy rooms. So while I tell her - look I wasn't remarkably disobedient - the complex idea I don't get to with her is well of course it WAS disobedience - it was like civil disobedience - it just wasn't for any cause other than myself.

So yeah. So the question I still have is do I have to do this again every ten years or something? It seems kind of juvenile. But if I don't hurt anybody I guess it's not that bad, just sort of embarassing. Oddly, I thought I had accepted that she was nuts and was cool just putting up with. But I guess one gets drawn back in sometimes. Other people have had much much worse, but I'm only me and there's this one thing.

So I'm feeling, actually, catharsis-y. And pretty certainly disinherited.

love
Alexis