Still not genki. The train stopped abruptly today, and in my steel-toed Harley boots (not stylin’, but I thought it was going to pour all day today and my rain boots are too hot for the muggy rainy season) I fell and stepped on an older woman. She was really upset with me, and as I shrank into the train seat, I suddenly found myself crying in public again, closing my eyes to try to trap the tears. I thought about getting off at the next stop, but I was paralyzed. Finally, I fled from the train at Akasaka Mitsuke station, and into a bathroom where I sat adjacent a Japanese-style toilet (on the nimotsu shelf) and cried as quietly as I could for 5-10 minutes. Emerging, I had to don my giant sunglasses to hide the tears that still wouldn’t stop, and as it was night and indoors I’m sure I looked extra batty. I looked at my feet until I was safely in my apartment.
But i haven’t had much luck in public places lately in Japan… my body feels too big and awkward, I don’t physically seem to fit anywhere. I have been so broke that as my clothes wear out, I can’t get new ones, and so I look mismatched and ragged, a sharp contrast from the polished, controlled and petite Japanese women that surround me.
I’d love to afford a trip to the Lush spa, or an Ayurvedic salon for some sort of treatment that might help with the current estrangement from and loathing of my body that I have…. but again, no money.
The other day in Chiba, a man walked up to me in the train station and punched me hard in the arm before continuing on his way. It was so odd I stood in place for a good five minutes, looking after him. My tattoos were all concealed, so it was perhaps my foreignness? My lack of femininity? His face was just so… angry as he bore down on me. I’d had a terrible day of getting lost on the train/riding too far, and this incident just… well, I didn’t have the energy to do anything other than acknowledge it numbly. Random nut, I’m sure, but when you’re as fragile as I am right now random nuts are a real health risk.
I hope I can get to a place where I am happy about the accomplishments of others again. That capacity to cheer my friends on says to me that -I- am happy in my own life. I wish I could tell this blog everything that has happened to me in 2013, but some of it is too dark and too traumatic. Suffice it today, the divorce actually wasn’t (ongoing, so I guess.. isn’t?) the worst thing that has happened. I am still reeling from the effects of some other major life traumas.
Granted, I went a bit crazy after December, and a lot of what has happened to me is the result of self-destructive behavior in the guise of me trying to regain a sense of safety and support.
I feel like if I can’t write about it openly I shouldn’t be writing about it though… so I’ve been rather quiet here.
As I was getting tattooed today I noticed I was bleeding an awful lot. Lately it’s been bleeding/bruising central as my tattoo artist works.
Anyway, we got to some parts that really really hurt, such as where she’s trying to cover over my old tattoo and basically has to ink very deeply over my chest bone. The pain is so intense that I have to breathe very carefully to even tolerate it. I was asking myself as I did this whether or not the pain in my body was worse than the mental pain I feel lately. I tried to approximate how it feels in my chest emotionally, with the buzzing needle working away there… and of course, I failed. The tattoo is also already over (this time), but my mental torture continues.
When did this become the least fun blog on the planet? Er, I tried Nigerian food for the first time last night, and that was awesome. Black-eyed-peas in a delicious sauce, plantains, etc. I do so love eating.
it’s not good when a shrink is seriously worried about you, is it? No, sir. I am apparently the one that keeps her up at night. I told her if it helps, I still can’t sleep either…
Ok, so I don’t end on a sad note- Takashi saw my socks poking out from the bed sheets last night. (I normally don’t like socks to sleep in, but I’d just put lovely Lush foot cream on.) He went to tug one off and I said:
“Don’t pull off my sock!” (in English)
He looked at me blankly and went to pull it again.
“I will cut you.” I told him
He cocked his head and asked “What? Pikachu?”
“No…. not Pikachu,” I shook my head. “Never Pikachu.”
He smiled. Then he leaned close “Pikapika” he whispered.
Oh my god.
As he was falling asleep I heard him mumble it a few more times too. I almost put a pillow over his head (lightly of course, I’m not -that- off my rocker yet).