When I started this blog, I thought I’d be funny. I thought I’d be my usual snide self, and create a running commentary on the craziness of my daily life, just to make myself laugh. But I wound up timing this thing with my falling into one of the darkest periods of my life, and certainly the one I’ve had to face in the loneliest fashion.
I feel so often that depression and anxiety have robbed me of the ability to really live so many chapters of my life, to be present for them in any meaningful way at all.. my time at the University of Chicago was one- I nearly had a breakdown there because I was putting -so- much pressure on myself, and things weren’t right with J… my time at Middlebury was the same because I stopped sleeping and quickly reached the limits of my capacity to cope. Here, it’s hard to blame myself, because of all of the genuinely bad things that have happened to me. I suppose in none of these cases should I blame myself per se… that line of thought isn’t very useful, is it?
It is really hard for me to talk to J. I almost always become hysterical these days, asking why he doesn’t want me anymore. When I learned that he wasn’t coming with me to Tokyo, I remember how horrified I was… on my own I almost always fall apart. How am I supposed to live on my own in the future then? I’ve had the support of this one person my entire adult life…
When you’re waiting for people to reach out to you, I’ve learned, you can wait forever… the more depressed I get, the more I withdraw. And my own family isn’t really writing to me.. my mailbox seems mostly to be spam these days. I load it from the train and look sadly down at my phone… feeling like a ghost. I often these days feel as though I’ve died and don’t know it.
I was in the hospital this week, and am still recovering… on strong antibiotics and other assorted pain medications that made me groggy.
While walking today (slowly, as I am still not well), I was listening to This American Life and thinking how much I loathe stories a) about animals and especially b) from the perspective of animals. To me it’s all shitty art, and TAL is best when it’s doing a kind of anthropological life-storytelling… not using content from “Planet Money” or letting fiction authors read their moose stories. Another kind of writing I loathe- “origin of mankind/evolution of the world” fiction pieces… so yeah, that’s for you Radiolab. Someday I’ll write more fiction. That’s what I had intended to do before I got distracted by academia and non-fiction writing, big egos, and endless unproductive competition.
God, I want so badly to talk to people, especially J, but I don’t feel like I have the words right now.
A tangent: In case you were curious, scrunchies and fanny packs are both still totally acceptable in Tokyo. This city gets a rep for being so very fashionable, and indeed people are generally immaculate in their dress… buuuuut the scrunchies run rampant and so do the packs de los fannies (I don’t know what language that was) in prices ranging from cheapo to designer.
I got a haircut to make myself feel better, but my haircuts do nothing but confirm everyone’s impressions of me as a lesbian- not necessarily a problem, except someday I suppose I’ll want to start attracting men again?? If I’m ever less traumatized and manage to get home without offing myself (not being flippant there).
I feel like the loneliest person in the world most of the time, and really have on and off since I came here. Why I thought anthropology was the field for me is occasionally a mystery, although I’m sure other anthropologists hate fieldwork too.
Haven’t even finished the big arm tattoo and already am fantasizing about a forearm tattoo… except I told myself I wouldn’t get anything that I couldn’t easily conceal during the summer in Tokyo without dying of heatstroke (i.e. short sleeves)