graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 30-year cargo, soon to be empty The rest of the weekend was a welcome relief. I focused on the pain shooting through both of my legs which I can't really bend at the moment. I have to sit with my legs stretched out because I can't seem to let scabs form. I try to bend my knees and they start to bleed again. I slept for a few hours and got up on Saturday. I was seeing spots and occasionally things were hazy. I might have gotten a mild concussion when I fell. I kept that to myself and kept myself up for the next 24 hours, although all I wanted to do was sleep. I had to work a TV shoot on Sunday and I was still limping around. I ducked into a corner of the set to check my knees and as I lifted my jeans I saw that one was bleeding. I started fishing around for a first aid kit and this good looking cameraman got a look at my scrapes, let out a low whistle and said, "What does the other guy look like?" "Ha. The other guy is my other knee. I'm an equal opportunity uninjurist." "Bad scrape," my friend chimed in, "but nice legs!" Thanks, I replied. They're better when they aren't beaten up. I don't do well the mental struggle. I can process physical pain. This I can deal with. The other was f*cking me up. I know this must sound crazy. Completely nuts. But seeing what causes the pain is almost reassuring and now I feel like I can equate the two. I know these scrapes will heal and that tells me the other will as well. I finally watched Sylvia on Saturday night. It was excellent. There's a part in the film when she's narrating and she says that she may have created her own downfall. That by doubting her husband and doubting herself she actually conjured the other woman that she had most feared was lurking, she drew her out. I do that in my life. I was talking about it today to a guy that I used to hang out with and without specifically addressing what I did when we hung out, he alluded to it through Plath. I told him that I was reading a website dissecting her demise today and one of the theories is that she was an oversensitive person and that her husband was not able to properly address that. He couldn't meet her needs in that regard. Two men that were in my life over the last year both remarked that I am highly sensitive. I thought that was bizarre. My persona is often perceived as rough, a tough exterior. I fight a lot of people's battles for them. I am always the tower of strength. When I thought about what this guy said today, it crossed my mind that I fight everyone else's battles because I just don't know how to start fighting mine. And because my low self-esteem makes me think that mine aren't worth fighting. That I don't deserve a happy ending, more importantly, that I'm not capable of the happy ending because of different things that have happened in my life. I don't want that to happen. I want a happen ending. I want to change this. I don't want to be sensitive and I guess that's why I've worked so hard at not feeling at all. I've seen where feelings get me: pain and devastation that I can feel but not see and therefore struggle to understand and pinpoint. I don't want to lay down and die. I know that if I don't fix myself, I will find an end similar to Sylvia's. Conjuring my own demons and allowing them to talk me into the irrational. I committed to myself today to change that. I need to start believing more in myself and for once, I need to start trusting in other people too. I have a lot of work to do. 8:54 p.m. - 2004-03-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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