Thursday, March 17, 2005

Running Away, Thinking About You

I have hesitated writing about some of the personal turmoil happening in my life, partially because I have no solution that my heart and head can agree on. Also it was a respect thing. I told my partner that I wasn’t going to write about him but now I am writing about him, hoping it will cause him to act. Plus, hasn’t this blog always been about me, la Mala and all the identities wrapped up in that name, exposing herself. Yes I am an exhibitionist. Maybe all writers are. And while I didn’t want to write about it (would seeing the little 12 point letters on screen make it feel more real?), it was all I wanted to write about. This is why over the past few weeks my blog as been a tedious trickle of mindless posts.

When I was 11 or 12 I wanted to be a rock star. I was forming bands with my stepsister in the basement of the house on Alstyne Ave. I was forming bands in the schoolyard of Our Lady of the Angeles with my friends. I always wrote the songs. There was one that I can still remember some of.

Running away, thinking about you,
Is the only thing I can really do.
The pressure has taken me too far.
I’m stuck in this madness.
But don’t you know that love is so cruel?


Of course it’s corny! I was 11 or 12!! But the point is that I got really good at running away. At first it was into books and into my journals. Then it would be into corners of my apartment, usually next to a warm steam radiator, where I could cry and physically hurt myself with no one knowing. When I entered adulthood I would run away into bars and the beds of strangers. I could disappear for hours. Once I ran away for two days. Sometimes I couldn’t help myself. The impulse to escape was so strong that it moved me and blocked everything else out, including my family and child (who was always safe with my mother or sister). Sometimes when I would return after running away I would have only partial memories of what went on. This went on up until about two years ago.

I still want to run away sometimes, into corners, into bars, into beds but I work actively against the impulses more. I have replaced those impulses with others (smoking, exercising, meditating, writing, and masturbating). It is struggle though. Part of it is my fucked up upbringing which left me with a heavy bag of abandonment and esteem issues. Part of it is pathology. I am diagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder chica.

It is because of my background and struggles that I can understand the desire to tune out and drop out of the world. So the first few days that I didn’t hear from el Cubano I was ok. We had been arguing a lot because I wasn’t as available as he would have liked me to be but we still spoke at least once a day (no you do not want to see my phone bill). I knew he was having job and housing issues. But it was when the days turned into a week that I began to really worry. The last time he didn’t call me for a few days, he told me that he probably wouldn’t be in contact with me. But this just happened out of the blue.

To be continued…………….

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