I hope that people realize these are unedited first drafts. I have to prioritize my time and uh I moved to the beach. The weather is amazing and most of my writing time is given over to non-blogging things right now.
Florent was the first “decent” restaurant in the meat market. I am one of the few straight, non-fag hag women to have actually been in the Anvil. It was gross and I don’t miss it. I miss the ease of those days; the fun.
My sister lived in the Far West Village forever and discovered Florent soon after it opened. When she was engaged she and her fiancee moved to the meat packing district when prostitutes still hung out. I was over one night when detectives from Internal Affairs came over. Somebody had made a video of a prostitute on top of a police car doing it with a policeman. Every apartment in my sister’s building was different and it could have been only made in her apartment or one other. Wasn’t made in her apartment.
I hope to be back to fiction in about three weeks. It’s difficult to focus as I’m paying the consequences of my long delayed move and am having an impossible time selling my apartment. Prices in New York might be higher but so are expenses, selling fees and taxes.
I know that you’re never supposed to be angry at yourself or anybody else. What’s done is done; it’s the moment that’s important. But when it’s going to affect the rest of your life how can you help but wonder what would have happened if you only got your apartment on the market when you had planned to?
I’m working on an article and hope to turn it into a book. To do this properly I had to research my own life and get in touch with doctors who knew me 20 years ago. Yesterday I found out the name of the testing psychologist who would walk into the room when I was working on a test and say “you really can’t do this, can you?”
Wonderful words of encouragement. In my heart I knew I should have walked out but I was desperate to find out why I felt as if I were breaking down–I’m too reality based to have an actual breakdown–and to finally have an answer to the problems that had affected me all my life.
Wasn’t going to happen. When he began to give me the test results he had an inappropriate smile as he talked. I quickly interrupted him:
So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be able to walk across town by myself let alone have the career I do?
He was very excited by my insight. After all I had every disability imaginable and shouldn’t have been insightful and said:
That’s exactly right.
I walked at that point. I suppose some people would call me a coward. I called the doctor who had referred me and told him what had happened. He was beyond shocked.
This was in the touchy feely “I feel your pain” 80’s. It wasn’t the stone age. Doctors, especially doctors in mental health, were expected to show some compassion.
I lost my edge that day. I was the girl who had almost everything before I took those tests. Oh I felt as though I were a fraud and couldn’t believe that I was the person responsible for multi million dollar projects and many many employees but all my girlfriends felt like frauds.
It was almost a normal way for a girl who had been brought expecting to be a college grad but then probably a teacher and housewife, but had ended up with a high powered career to feel. Yes I burnt out and yes I wanted to know why. But I had no idea that I was truly a fraud; somebody who shouldn’t have been capable of anything.
I didn’t let the test results overtly affect me. But forever after I have been feeling that I have been standing on the edge of a diving board about to dive into an empty pool.
For the article to be completely truthful I have to contact this doctor. Maybe I need to for my own sanity. I have to ask him why he chose to break this news to me in the manner he did.
This is the part of my life I have always wanted to gloss over. But the more I blogged the more I realized to get ahead I need to fully understand everything about me.
I spent yesterday literally unable to do anything. I had no problems writing emails to the other people. But what do I say to him? And I will be damned if I pay for an appointment.
Before the tests I had a husband, fiancees, boyfriends. After the tests I had one night stands that might last two years. I cut myself off emotionally. All the good the other doctors did and some did great things, they couldn’t help me with this as I couldn’t admit that the tests had affected me so greatly.
It wasn’t exactly a delayed reaction but a denied reaction. I left private industry and a career that I loved. I accomplished a lot in the past 20 years. Rationally I know that. Yet in my head I’m stuck back in that dark place I was in 20 years ago.
Last year about this time I first learned about Non Verbal Learning Disorders. It took some months to sink in but I felt vindicated. I was able to focus on what’s important to me.
I don’t want to be dark. My article, and I hope my book, is actually funny. I don’t want to be known as the most depressing blogger in the history of blogging. But this is my story.
Bloggers are never depressing if they’re honest. The word is: fascinating.
pia, we all have phases of dark and depressing. It is part of life. As Anthony says, there is much honesty in your writings. Keep it up!
Maybe talking to him will actually help things? Maybe it will free you up? And you know… maybe you’ll just find out that he was a heartless dick who shouldn’t have been a doctor. Not that that will help you for sure, but it’s always a possibility.
tough post–thanks for being brave enough to risk sharing it.
I’ve been swamped–but tonight I posted my banana pudding recipe (banana pudding is a comfort food, something to chase the blues away!)
I never find you to be a down-trodden depressing blogger!! I find you to be raw, refreshingly honest!! I still struggle with the lack of humanity, yet high salaries doctor’s have and quite honestly I struggle with many of they’re inept capabilities as well. I have been given medications that would exasperate chronic bloody noses for ailments that I don’t have!!!! Good luck with your writing ventures its the light.
back in the touchy feely eighty’s i had a psycho therapist mind you!!! tell me i was sado-masochistic with dissociative tenancies… they were just looking to make huge breakthrough diagnosis in those days.. exhaustion is exhaustion no matter what label hang on it,, and a codependent like me,, is just a codependent… nothing more,, nothing less.. just be you .. fuck ’em….
enjoy the beach….. the condo will either sell or it won’t… but chances are neither is going to happen today…..
Pia, I find it deplorable at the lack of empathy and compassion in the medical fields. My doctor sent me home to die but thank God I ignored him.
I hope you find this guy and let him see the error of his ways. Good luck!
Pia, Anothony said it well above. I love when a blogger doesn’t hide behind facades and is just plain honest and genuine. You are those things and I think it is important to share this part of yourself as I am sure someone can read your words and relate. I do on many levels. Good luck on your “road to find out.”
…the beach is the best place.. and watchin the waves that has always been a great therapy… what i find interesting is how we give away our power, our life away w/o realizing… an offhand comment by a complete stranger or maybe even our dear sisters… but that a thousand times over we can start new every day… sometimes it can be hard to go back to that moment in the past and change… p, have always been a fan of yr stories and found them creative and delightful.. wish you all the best..
In some ways being on a beach with waves is wonderful therapy. Not that you need therapy anymore than I need therapy.
I can’t see this as a depressing, I wouldn’t have reada a depressing blog for so long.
“one night stands that might last two years.” That one’s a keeper.
In my opinion, very little is funny that isn’t a little bit dark.