Because of my job I know that I am wanted. That I am desirable.
But most days, at the end of the day, I lay in bed wondering...
Will anyone actually love me?
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Friday, May 24, 2013
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Never Gonna Happen
I haven't written in awhile because I have been trying not to think about work. Writing about work when I'm banishing it from my mind doesn't help... at all.
Jamie and I have been going through a rough patch. Nothing too serious, but one that needed to be dealt with sans work. So I haven't gone in.
I am now writing because I am dealing with the fact that tomorrow I am going to work. Because I need to get my ass in gear and make money for bills. Yuck.
Anyways.
I took a non-fiction writing class last year where I wrote about my job extensively and it was cathartic. I didn't just write about my job, I wrote about me. It wasn't supposed to be a memoir class, but I turned it into one. What can I say I'm egocentric. (If you haven't guessed that already. I have blog entirely devoted to myself. I'd say that's a bit more than egocentric, probably closer to completely self-centered.) I liked writing about my past and my issues. It helped me process them, and my classmates were shocked by some of the things I said. I like getting things out there to be talked about. Especially the things people don't want to, or don't like to talk about. I want to call everything and everyone out and say these things happen to people. It's not just something you hear on the news. These things happened to me! You know me! They're awful things and painful things. Let's talk about it. Let's change this, so that your daughter, sister, brother, nephew, cousin doesn't have to go through it.
My professor was visiting the college just for that class. She is an author who writes memoirs.
My professor from this class pulled me aside and told me that I had a voice. I had a voice that had something to say. She asked me if I was going to write a book. I said "No, of course not." I had never thought about being a writer. I was a reader. I'm a literature major. Not a creative writing major. I'm a terrible writer. I get in front of a computer screen to write, or even a pad of paper, and I think "Well shit." The last day of class, after we were all finished, my professor pulled me aside again. She told me "You need to write that book. You may hate doing it, but you have to. You have no idea how important what you have to say is. No one has said it the way you are. Write that book. You may not know it yet, but you are a writer. People will know your name." I gave her a smile, and told her it was great getting to know her. The last thing she said to me as I walked out the door was "I'll read it someday. Write that book."
I left thinking. That's a novel idea. Never gonna happen.
Ever since then I have read more and more memoirs. I love them. Most of the people that write memoirs become famous first for something and then write a memoir telling their story of how they got there. Some of their stories are interesting. Some are pretty boring. My favorite memoirist is Aayan Hirsi Ali. I've read all of her books. If you don't know her, go look her up. Right now I'm reading Salmon Rushdie's new memoir. Very recently I read Firoozeh Dumas' memoir. Out of all them hers' got me thinking the most. Aayan Hirsi Ali and Salmon Rushdie are both extremely well known. They have both done incredible things and have experienced incredible hardships. Firoozeh Dumas' hasn't. At least in the context of most "incredible things." She has not had a fatwa put on her, or been a member of parliament. But she wrote a best selling memoir.
The last year ever since my professor told my to "write that book" I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Any time I thought seriously about it I have always thought 'where would I start? I don't know the first thing about writing a book. I only know analysis papers. Even if I wrote a book how would I even get it published. No one would be interested in it." Anyways. All of these things are still true.
An hour ago Jamie was sitting at the computer playing video games. I had just finished my third book this week and started in on Salmon Rushdie's memoir Joseph Anton when I was suddenly struck with exactly what I wanted to say in the prologue of my memoir. I don't know why or where it came from, but now an hour later I have three pages saying things that I have always wanted to say but never knew how. I don't know if it will ever be published or read by anyone but myself. What I do know is that I am writing THAT book.
Or at least I'm going to try.
Jamie and I have been going through a rough patch. Nothing too serious, but one that needed to be dealt with sans work. So I haven't gone in.
I am now writing because I am dealing with the fact that tomorrow I am going to work. Because I need to get my ass in gear and make money for bills. Yuck.
Anyways.
I took a non-fiction writing class last year where I wrote about my job extensively and it was cathartic. I didn't just write about my job, I wrote about me. It wasn't supposed to be a memoir class, but I turned it into one. What can I say I'm egocentric. (If you haven't guessed that already. I have blog entirely devoted to myself. I'd say that's a bit more than egocentric, probably closer to completely self-centered.) I liked writing about my past and my issues. It helped me process them, and my classmates were shocked by some of the things I said. I like getting things out there to be talked about. Especially the things people don't want to, or don't like to talk about. I want to call everything and everyone out and say these things happen to people. It's not just something you hear on the news. These things happened to me! You know me! They're awful things and painful things. Let's talk about it. Let's change this, so that your daughter, sister, brother, nephew, cousin doesn't have to go through it.
My professor was visiting the college just for that class. She is an author who writes memoirs.
My professor from this class pulled me aside and told me that I had a voice. I had a voice that had something to say. She asked me if I was going to write a book. I said "No, of course not." I had never thought about being a writer. I was a reader. I'm a literature major. Not a creative writing major. I'm a terrible writer. I get in front of a computer screen to write, or even a pad of paper, and I think "Well shit." The last day of class, after we were all finished, my professor pulled me aside again. She told me "You need to write that book. You may hate doing it, but you have to. You have no idea how important what you have to say is. No one has said it the way you are. Write that book. You may not know it yet, but you are a writer. People will know your name." I gave her a smile, and told her it was great getting to know her. The last thing she said to me as I walked out the door was "I'll read it someday. Write that book."
I left thinking. That's a novel idea. Never gonna happen.
Ever since then I have read more and more memoirs. I love them. Most of the people that write memoirs become famous first for something and then write a memoir telling their story of how they got there. Some of their stories are interesting. Some are pretty boring. My favorite memoirist is Aayan Hirsi Ali. I've read all of her books. If you don't know her, go look her up. Right now I'm reading Salmon Rushdie's new memoir. Very recently I read Firoozeh Dumas' memoir. Out of all them hers' got me thinking the most. Aayan Hirsi Ali and Salmon Rushdie are both extremely well known. They have both done incredible things and have experienced incredible hardships. Firoozeh Dumas' hasn't. At least in the context of most "incredible things." She has not had a fatwa put on her, or been a member of parliament. But she wrote a best selling memoir.
The last year ever since my professor told my to "write that book" I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Any time I thought seriously about it I have always thought 'where would I start? I don't know the first thing about writing a book. I only know analysis papers. Even if I wrote a book how would I even get it published. No one would be interested in it." Anyways. All of these things are still true.
An hour ago Jamie was sitting at the computer playing video games. I had just finished my third book this week and started in on Salmon Rushdie's memoir Joseph Anton when I was suddenly struck with exactly what I wanted to say in the prologue of my memoir. I don't know why or where it came from, but now an hour later I have three pages saying things that I have always wanted to say but never knew how. I don't know if it will ever be published or read by anyone but myself. What I do know is that I am writing THAT book.
Or at least I'm going to try.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Pieces
I feel like my life is falling to pieces.
A few days ago Jamie's best friend shot himself. I've known his friend for about a year and a half. We clicked the first time we met and had become pretty close friends. Jamie isn't talking to me about any of it. He would rather get drunk with his friends then deal with it with me. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't think getting drunk is the best response to this.
I feel like my relationship is crumbling. We haven't been doing great for the past several months, and with everything we're going through right now it is all coming out. Jamie and I have planned on marriage and kids for a long time. It's hard because he's the one that said forever. Now it turns out that he's not sure if that is going to happen. He still loves me, but he doesn't know if I'm his future. It turns out he started feeling this way awhile ago. He looks at me differently and acts differently around me. He's growing more and more distant, and I feel like I can't do anything about any of it. It all started when he stopped caring if I went to work or not.
It kills me. He doesn't care, and I do. Everyday I walk in there I cry. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry. It's hard not to. I would do anything to quit, but I know there isn't any way I can quit right now. Jamie thinks that if I'd never started I would never had to. No matter what, I would have had to make a lot of money a year, more than I could doing anything else.
I feel like everything is my fault and I know there is nothing I can possibly do. I just have to sit back and watch my life fall apart knowing there is nothing I can do to make it better.
A few days ago Jamie's best friend shot himself. I've known his friend for about a year and a half. We clicked the first time we met and had become pretty close friends. Jamie isn't talking to me about any of it. He would rather get drunk with his friends then deal with it with me. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't think getting drunk is the best response to this.
I feel like my relationship is crumbling. We haven't been doing great for the past several months, and with everything we're going through right now it is all coming out. Jamie and I have planned on marriage and kids for a long time. It's hard because he's the one that said forever. Now it turns out that he's not sure if that is going to happen. He still loves me, but he doesn't know if I'm his future. It turns out he started feeling this way awhile ago. He looks at me differently and acts differently around me. He's growing more and more distant, and I feel like I can't do anything about any of it. It all started when he stopped caring if I went to work or not.
It kills me. He doesn't care, and I do. Everyday I walk in there I cry. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry. It's hard not to. I would do anything to quit, but I know there isn't any way I can quit right now. Jamie thinks that if I'd never started I would never had to. No matter what, I would have had to make a lot of money a year, more than I could doing anything else.
I feel like everything is my fault and I know there is nothing I can possibly do. I just have to sit back and watch my life fall apart knowing there is nothing I can do to make it better.
Friday, July 27, 2012
What I Deserve
I have been back from London for ten days now. I have only been able to drag myself into work twice. It's hard. I really need to go in more. I have bills to pay. They have to get paid. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff since I've been home.
I don't sleep well at night. I lay in bed next to the best man. He loves me in spite of everything. I lay in bed thinking that I don't deserve him. Most nights I leave bed and go sit on the couch for hours reading. I try to keep my mind off of my job. If I think about it too much I throw up. I don't want to do this anymore. I hate it. I feel disgusting. I feel like less than a person. I feel like I don't deserve to sleep in the same bed as Jamie, or even have him touch me. He deserves better. He deserves a girl that is only seen by him, that is only touched by him.
It's a job, but I every time I walk in there and parade around in underwear, I feel like I'm cheating on him. He tells me that it's all an act. It is. It isn't me personally, but it's still my body. They still touch me.
I don't sleep well at night. I lay in bed next to the best man. He loves me in spite of everything. I lay in bed thinking that I don't deserve him. Most nights I leave bed and go sit on the couch for hours reading. I try to keep my mind off of my job. If I think about it too much I throw up. I don't want to do this anymore. I hate it. I feel disgusting. I feel like less than a person. I feel like I don't deserve to sleep in the same bed as Jamie, or even have him touch me. He deserves better. He deserves a girl that is only seen by him, that is only touched by him.
It's a job, but I every time I walk in there and parade around in underwear, I feel like I'm cheating on him. He tells me that it's all an act. It is. It isn't me personally, but it's still my body. They still touch me.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Toll
I have been working a whole lot lately. Every day for doubles (12-14 hours) like I have mentioned in some of my latest posts.
This past week it has started taking a toll on me. Emotionally it took a toll awhile ago (but thanks to my acupuncturist it, is hasn't been so bad). Well I was in on Tuesday. Tuesdays are hard days to work 12 hours because they are two-for-ones all night. Pretty much twice the work for half the pay. I try never to work Tuesday's because it is too much work. With London coming up in four days I've been working non-stop. Tuesday at 8:30 I started feeling really cold. The pre-fever kind of chills. The manager of the club sent me up to VIP to take a nap on the comfortable couches because I looked so bad. At 9:45 I woke up and HAD to go home. I took a really hot shower because I couldn't get warm and then I crawled in bed. When Jamie got home from work he didn't know I was home and crawled in bed and could feel the warmth radiating off of me. I had a temperature of a 105. I woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain. I woke up the next day at 1:00 when Jamie got back from working at Starbucks. He told me I wasn't going to work that day. (Which was the smart thing, but I didn't want to agree.) I ended up having to stay home on Thursday too because I still couldn't stand up quite right.
Because of my sudden onset fever I had to lower my money making goals to what Jamie and I truly NEED for the trip... Sans extra activities. Now I'm at work and it's still really slow, so I'm stressing about making the bare minimum.
The other downside of working doubles at the club is I haven't really seen Jamie in two and a half weeks (except for the two days where I was in a fever induced coma). I come home and crawl in bed and fifteen minutes later he has to get up and go to work. We're both too tired to even cuddle we just hold hands. And when I work Thursday-Saturday the only time I get to see him is if I stop in at Starbucks after I get off work. By the time he gets home from work I've already been at work for six hours. We live in the same house. We sleep in the same bed, but never at the same time. Our house is a sea of ever passing ships.
This past week it has started taking a toll on me. Emotionally it took a toll awhile ago (but thanks to my acupuncturist it, is hasn't been so bad). Well I was in on Tuesday. Tuesdays are hard days to work 12 hours because they are two-for-ones all night. Pretty much twice the work for half the pay. I try never to work Tuesday's because it is too much work. With London coming up in four days I've been working non-stop. Tuesday at 8:30 I started feeling really cold. The pre-fever kind of chills. The manager of the club sent me up to VIP to take a nap on the comfortable couches because I looked so bad. At 9:45 I woke up and HAD to go home. I took a really hot shower because I couldn't get warm and then I crawled in bed. When Jamie got home from work he didn't know I was home and crawled in bed and could feel the warmth radiating off of me. I had a temperature of a 105. I woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain. I woke up the next day at 1:00 when Jamie got back from working at Starbucks. He told me I wasn't going to work that day. (Which was the smart thing, but I didn't want to agree.) I ended up having to stay home on Thursday too because I still couldn't stand up quite right.
Because of my sudden onset fever I had to lower my money making goals to what Jamie and I truly NEED for the trip... Sans extra activities. Now I'm at work and it's still really slow, so I'm stressing about making the bare minimum.
The other downside of working doubles at the club is I haven't really seen Jamie in two and a half weeks (except for the two days where I was in a fever induced coma). I come home and crawl in bed and fifteen minutes later he has to get up and go to work. We're both too tired to even cuddle we just hold hands. And when I work Thursday-Saturday the only time I get to see him is if I stop in at Starbucks after I get off work. By the time he gets home from work I've already been at work for six hours. We live in the same house. We sleep in the same bed, but never at the same time. Our house is a sea of ever passing ships.
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