traction and distraction

It's hard for my to even begin to process the last few weeks. In an attempt to escape all of it, Zoe and I ran away together for the day. It didn't help me understand my current situation any better, but it was fun and full of distracting tastes and sights. 

I've worked really hard to distract myself from my various recent problems and anxieties. I even cancelled my recital in hopes of healing from tendonitis. I've found ways to convince myself that a breakup after a two year relationship is really not that bad.  I've watched mind-numbing movies with my mother when I know that we're both thinking about my Dad spending Christmas alone. I constantly remind myself that it could be worse, and I KNOW it could be worse. But this is my life and these are my problems. I've never been so impulsive, hedonistic, and eager for male attention. I tell myself that this is temporary, but I'm afraid if I don't run away from these habits now I'll just get myself into more trouble.

Being away from my cello is weakening me. I'm not really sure who I am away from this big wooden box, and in moments like this, I realize how much this THING has become a part of my identity. Although I can't imagine life without playing music, I also can't stand the thought of needing it. My sense of identity away from the cello is blurry at best. I've always said "Fuck plan b" with an uppercase F and a lowercase b, but I'm quickly losing confidence in my original plan to only have an original plan.

Just to clarify, my distractions have not been meaningless. One distraction in particular has given me a really interesting perspective and a surprising amount of affection. It has also caused me to swing back and forth between boosts and drops of confidence because I am constantly questioning this distraction's intentions and desires. I would like this distraction to be much more than a distraction, but I am afraid that this distraction believes that I am also just a distraction and cannot be more than a distraction. These concerns are already distracting me from the original distraction.

oh god

When I came home this morning from the store, I ran into a group of about ten people walking down the sidewalk carrying gift bags. I asked what they were doing and they said they were from the church across the street and they were talking to people and giving gifts.
"Have you ever thought of visiting our church?" one woman asked.

I had, so I honestly said. "Yes."

"Can we say a prayer for you?" she asked me. I hesitated for a second, but told her yes. They formed a circle and we all held hands. They prayed for my soul and prayed that I would form a relationship with God and prayed that my house would always be protected from danger. All the others started praying for me simultaneously and I briefly glanced up to watch their faces. I even said "amen" at the end. They each hugged me before they continued their walk, and although I had no belief that my soul was any more close to getting saved, I allowed myself to enjoy each stranger looking me in the eye, smiling, and giving me a warm hug.

It's easy for me to be cynical about church. I was raised to ask questions and to doubt absolutely everything.  Jesus has always seemed like a pretty fascinating person to me, but I have no reason to believe that God somehow impregnated his virgin mother. Week after week, I sit through church services and pick apart each sermon until the only truth I can actually conclude is that people are completely insane for choosing to attend church services and for choosing to pump their money into it. While each church is different, they all emphasize forming a personal relationship with God. To me, forming a relationship with God is like trying to form a personal relationship with a doll that your mother has always told you is up in the attic, but you've never actually seen this doll... and you try to imagine its face.... and she tells you that this doll is the most important thing in the universe but the ladder to the attic is broken and has always been broken so just try try try to have faith that it's there in the first place... and oh by the way you must tell all of your friends about this doll. Is this a horrible analogy? It probably is.

Anyway, it seems to me that while churches emphasize forming a relationship with God, the more honest and attainable goal is forming relationships with OTHER PEOPLE. You know, real living and breathing and farting people. Why else go to church?

In the spirit of Christmas, I have decided to suspend some of my cynicism for a moment just to recognize some of the similarities between me, a girl who laughs during communion and sends text messages during the sermon, and church people. I enjoy a sense of community. I enjoy speculating about the mysterious functions of the universe. I enjoy hugging. I enjoy stories. I enjoy volunteer work, even though I know my ego is wrapped up in it. I think I could even enjoy imagining that my food is the flesh of a person, but I haven't given that much effort yet.

I wanted to laugh at the church people walking down the sidewalk, but how could I laugh at people who are willing to hold my hand, wish for my safety, and give me hugs? Physical and emotional pain has made the past few months difficult. Friends and strangers have offered advice that could "save" me: God, pills, water, exercise, working hard, not working hard, having sex, not having sex, time with friends, time away from people, vegetables, vitamins.... The list grows longer each day. I appreciate all of the advice and maybe some of these things and activities and concepts will ease my pain, but what has helped me more than anything is just having people involved in my life in the first place. Our bodies work hard to move and speak and think, and when someone uses this limited energy to try to help me, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. So... there you go. Everything is fine and Merry Christmas.

Maybe I am only my body.

My heart is breaking and where are you?

I went to Wal-Mart to buy all the things that could save me from my abandonment:

a neck-supporting pillow, so I could sleep deeply enough to not have dreams of you
vitamins, so I could become strong without you
stamps and envelopes, so that I could send Christmas cards to all your family reminding them not to forget me
eye drops, so I wouldn't look like a drug addict after crying about you in the car

Except I couldn't find the stamps and I almost began to cry. Everybody in the store looked so ugly to me in the harsh lights, but I knew I looked just as terrible. Every time a man looked at me, I felt like they could read my mind which made me want to crawl into a shelf.

All the things are still in a bag. I will start the recovery process tomorrow, so tonight I will just leave myself alone to wonder how you could just stop loving me.

I'm trying not to feel because I know I'll only feel pain. So I can't listen to anything too beautiful or look at the pictures that mean something to me. I really really can't.
The cortisone shot helped my arm go numb,  so I can't feel so much of the pain my arm has endured for months. What can I use when my heart is breaking?