Belly of the Whale

SEPTEMBER JOURNALS

9-17-03

I am weary of illness. I have been weak and lethargic, slow to most anything, sloth and ornery. I thought it was the medication; I thought it was being ill.

My body is emaciated. I am frail and light. How we never notice the slight, slow changes our bodies make until we take account. Yesterday I weighed myself on a scale, just out of curiosity. I thought I was reading someone else’s numbers: 136 pounds – with clothes.

At that moment I realized, I realized I hadn’t fully understood what it meant to be sick, to have a significant illness, in my case, Giardia. I am not weak because I am sick – but because the sickness has eroded my body to a shell, sucked the water out of it and weakened it. Only now do I see how unhealthy it has made me. Now I see it impact.

24.
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Today is a day of endings and long awaited begins. I said goodbye to Wendy and regained my old life back. I feel once again like myself, unrestrained and free to function unhindered. I am breathing a sigh of relief with this passage.

But I have learned so much. I have made many mistakes unaware. We went so fast and became such daily fixtures, giving so much of our time to one another. I couldn’t see it. I knew, but couldn’t understand.

No wonder I have been so sick and slow to recover. No wonder my eczema has flared up again. No wonder I have been slow and failing to accomplish my tasks – my days have been shorter, my energy has been taxed, and my nerves have been stretched taught.

It wore me so to fight like that, to be misunderstood and to have no recourse. I could see the inevitability of this day long ago; did I need to walk it? I think so.

What an experience. I have learned what it means to share a life, to be intoxicated by a woman, to find such seductive comforts in her hold. There is joy there I will miss. I accept loneliness. But my health is priceless and was endangered. God bless you Wendy. Where do we go from here.

26.

Wendy says that I am manipulative and defensive – but, that these aren’t bad things, just natural. She doesn’t want me to change. She only wants to be able to call me out on it when she sees it so I will stop hurting her without an argument ensuing. What does this mean?

I don’t think I am being manipulative when I say, “You always leave the lid to the Oreos off.” All I mean to say is that I don’t like stale Oreos and that I would like it if she would learn to be more responsible, more aware of cause and effect. But to her this is some sort of subversion; I am trying to break her to my will and this is not okay with her. But what about my Oreos?

What about me? What if I am not manipulative? What if she is wrong? Then I am the one being hurt; I am the one being accused wrongly, and how will this effect me? I am trying to believe her. I almost want her to be right so we can carry on – I don’t want to lose her. I love her after all.

If she were right I would change if I could see it. Why can’t I see? I’ve asked all my friends. They don’t see it. They can’t imagine me being defensive or manipulative? But do they know me like she does? They’ve known me longer and better – but differently, not like she does. Is it possible that I only manipulate her? What if she uses language differently? After all she seems to believe this is normal and fine.

To me it is not normal, not fine. I am troubled and have found little to learn. I had a troubling dream last night about my dog, Widge, my best friend was shot by an ignorant man; the best of me was destroyed by innocence, a man who couldn’t see the meaning or ramifications of his actions. Yet I blamed the murder on a man who was a religious fraud, who was seemingly unconnected.

What does this mean? Is the best of me dying because I am submitting myself to believing something that simply isn’t true? Or am I the one who is wrong and there killing myself?

I love Wendy. I don’t want her to go but I can’t understand; I can’t find her meaning. I won’t lie and say I do and apologize nor will I continue to be reprimanded for something that is imaginative fallacy.

So what remains…

SEPT 28.

I am so busy writing stories, I have little for the writing journal. What I need to do is vent in a non-literary way. So here goes…

Me and Wendy are floundering. My life is otherwise coming together. I am worried though for Wendy and her health. She scares me.

My writing is coming along. Nicole likes my story. What’s more, I like my story. Tonight I went to Second Wind and heard some non-fiction that I really enjoyed and taught me a lot. I can research stuff to add to my writing. Hearing this lady read, I heard myself in her story and voice. It was like hearing my calling. I know I can do that. I feel I can do it well, even greatly. But she showed me a side of nonfiction that I hadn’t thought of, mainly research. I always thought so spiritually and viscerally, adding objective facts and information never occurred to me, or certainly information that I didn’t have before the writing – learning for the sake of the piece – I never really considered it.

I am excited. I am sad about fictionalizing this piece. I want to make it a serious nonfiction piece now. What to do? I think I like the idea of writing both, a fiction and a nonfiction story with the same subject. It will be interesting certainly. I may learn truly which medium best serves me.

Where is the rest of my life? Where am I? I feel a strange sense of loss, like I am lost somehow. I have gotten so turned around, my life flipped upside down. I have been angry, I have been frustrated and hurt. All this for me is uncommon. It feels sort of surreal. It is almost exciting if I didn’t see a bit of foreshadowed doom in it.

I want to do well – I must do well. I refuse to be torn away from my goals. All else can fall away. To hell with it. I must write; I must get the grades. It is my passion; I am addicted. And I love it. I am feeling good. I feel better. I am encouraged.

My house is clean. My work is getting done. I am catching up. Things are turning around. Wendy is growing too. But still I am scared. But as time passes I acclimate and become capable of handling my burden. Soon it will be time to start planning for essays. Soon things will start to buckle down. Can I do the work and love Wendy simultaneously? Will Wendy help me?

9-29

My story is now ready. At last, but how gratifying.