Wednesday, June 17, 2009

An Update, In Which Breathing Occurs

Posted by Anonymous.

So a while ago I wrote a post here about my mental illness, general disgruntlement with New York City, and my ridiculous college. (It was called "Suffocating.") Some folks in the comments section wanted to know how that all ended up, so here it is:

I found a subletter for my apartment, sold eighty percent of my clothing to Beacon’s Closet, packed up my cowboy boots and my snowboard, and high-tailed it back to Colorado faster than you can say “spring semester medical leave.”

Or rather, that’s how it should’ve happened. It is true that I left, but it was more complicated than that. I met this boy. Theme parties are dangerous in so many ways, Internet. On October 29th, I went to a Black Friday party with my hair in pin curls. We drank gin out of a bathtub, blasted jazz on vinyl and celebrated our forthcoming decline into financial ruin. There was a boy wearing suspenders and a fedora playing piano. Like, really, really mind-blowing piano. It was his twenty-first birthday. I told him that my birthday is also on the anniversary of a terrible event: JFK’s assassination. He was a piano major at the jazz conservatory at [my ridiculous college].

The day before I went to this party, I had called my parents and told them I was leaving New York, and would never step foot in it again except maybe for Passover Seder.

I am so not that girl. I don’t do things for boys, like move across half a continent. But here I am, living in Colorado, screaming about how miserable it is to be alive in front of a great shrink twice a week, auditioning medications into my system, and moving back to God Damn New York in August, to pull one more semester at my God Damn College. He’s been out here twice; I taught him to snowboard. I spent ten days at his family’s house on the Puget Sound in January, baking bread with his mother for their co-op. (Yes. It’s exactly how it sounds.) Let’s back up.

I said to him: “I’m miserable and moving away, but I’ll have coffee with you and be your friend.” He said, “Okay.” Stupid. What that ALWAYS means is “I will marry you, move to Portland, and have your genius babies. On the weekends we can go antiquing.” Internet, we had a lot of coffee. (BTW, coffee means sex.) The plan was to have a lot of coffee, never commit, I would leave and that would be that. Then we started doing terrible things like having conversations, going to Prop 8 protests, and revealing intimate facts about ourselves like “I am batshit insane sometimes because I have unmedicated bipolar disorder, can you pull my boot off because I’m sobbing uncontrollably and can’t do anything at the moment thanks.” He stayed. Even after he saw me have a panic attack about how to put on pants.

I had an ovarian cyst rupture in November, (My third, and yes, I’m on the pill for it. Look how effective that treatment is!) and he skipped an entire day of class to hang out in the emergency room with me while I got high on morphine. He read aloud to me the last forty pages of Eclipse, which I had crawled into my room to grab as the paramedics banged on my front door. I had it clutched to my chest when they loaded my into the ambulance. (He doesn’t like it when I tell people that he has recited Stephanie Meyer aloud, but hot damn, that makes a keeper, doesn’t it?)

I love him, Internet. I love him more than I hate New York. (And I really, really hate it there.) So I’m moving back, with an arsenal of legally-acquired Xanax, a team of mental health professionals already found, and my very tired snowboard. It’s only until we both graduate, which is two more years, because he is earning two degrees at once, (a BFA and BA) and I am scholastically incompetent. After that, he wants to ride a motorcycle with me across Europe. My only concern was, how would all of my Sephora Problem fit onto a motorcycle? He said, “We can get a side car.” Oy Vey.

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

Serously?!?!? Thats AWESOME!!! Stick with the mental health aides (therapy, drugs, whatever) but woo-freakin-hoo for getting over the hump and facing your fears, not matter what got you there!

ewe are here said...

I love a happy ending ... he sounds like the perfect person for you. Well done.

Stay healthy.

MYSUESTORIES said...

See? Breathing is ALWAYS good!

justmeandthevoices said...

This. Is awesome. I love you. Good luck with everything!!!!

Anonymous said...

So many times on this board we hold hands and whisper (hopefully soothingly) that it is always darkest before the dawn. I'm glad we got hear about dawn for once.

Anonymous said...

SO glad you are doing better!!

And yes, a young man who will read Stephanie Meyer out loud for you is a keeper.

I lived for a couple of years in New York, going to a ridiculous college as well, and, yes, there were some people like how you described there... but there were also some very wonderful, kind, intelligent people I miss very much. It's a big city; you can find your niche, I'm confident of that. It might take awhile, but you'll find like-minded people. Your guy must know some of them!

- best, J

loural.murray said...

He sounds fantastic! Can you clone him?

I think you lucked out to find someone who could not only play a mean piano but who is willing and able to stick with you through the high times and the low times. Not many men have that strenght of character and I say hold on as tight as you can. Keep up with the meds and the doctors and everything and best of luck to you :)

MissAnna said...

Your story is fantastic! Best wishes on the move back to NY! (And as someone living in the Puget Sound/Seattle area, I can say there are lots of neat people here. And we have both great music + great mountains)

Major Bedhead said...

Wow. I'm a little jealous over here. It's lovely to hear such a great update.

Anonymous said...

This post? FunnyHappyBrilliant. You are a wonderful writer. I'm also glad that things are going better for you. I also know the love of an amazing piano player. Maybe someday you (like us) will move into an apartment with your only furniture being a mattress, two folding chairs and a really, really awesome piano.

Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas said...

That's great news. Sometimes we see places in a better light when there's a new candle in the room.

Sara said...

Yep, he's a keeper.

Vorilee said...

He is a keeper :)

Anonymous said...

I am so ridiculously happy for you. Your post is one that has stayed with me, and I can't help but be excited for you. He sounds like a freakin' great guy. Ah, l'amour.