On Thursday and Friday it was all falling apart again. Horrors and stresses about my visa, depression and gloom at home due to the fractured relationship, which hemmorhages still. I started getting so stressed and depressed that I was back to my old haunts again-abusing myself with the oven rack, leaving a nice shiny picket fence of burns down the flesh of the left hand. Yet another topic for my therapist and I to work on-why do I head for physical pain when I am suffering emotional pain? Because it's pain that makes sense. It's real, it's something that you can understand.
Hello, my name is Helen, and I'm auditioning for the part of Lead Fruit Loop today.
I did what I could only do to try to save the fragile and straggling remnants of my sanity-I decided to address my visa head-on, get some help with it, and find a way to survive this. I am headed towards my 6th life, which I have in my head as the life of a cat. I will be dropped from a top story building and still twist around and land on my feet. I will chase the mice, get the cream, and weave myself around my loving owner's ankles. I will be keen, coy, and survive.
So I flew to London for the weekend.
I left early Friday morning on Ryanair, the low-fare airlines. It's at a tiny airport outside of Stockholm, but their flights are cheap and they usually get you to your destination well on time. You don't get seat assignments, all food and beverage cost, but if you are like me and brought a bottle of water, a packet of Starburst and a book, then the flight is no problem...especially if the flight is half the cost of the other airlines.
Once I arrived to London Stanstead airport, I hurried outside to find what I was waiting for-tucking my gym bag over my arm, digging my head inside my pea coat to avoid the deluge of rain, I stood there and waiting, knowing that my salvation would be here.
And it was.
Striding along the pavement, there came Mr. Y in the car, all smiles, kisses, and hugs. He wrapped me inside the length of his coat, his warm and solid body against mine, the smells of him-eucalyptus, for the drops he likes to suck on. A dash of cigarette smoke. A mint, from the pocket mint he just had. A warm, spicy scent of the face lotion he uses, and the undeniable maleness of him.
We drove back to his flat, and once there he got on the phone and called my visa people to find out what is happening, notebook at the ready and list of questions in his head. He found out additional information that made me feel better, that calmed me down. He sorted out some things, and while I sat next to him, just listening to him calmly go through things, I realized what a fucking release it was to not have to handle everything on my own anymore. To be on the battle front and have someone beside me, who has my back.
After the phone call, he turned to me, grabbed my hand, and led me to the bedroom, where we proceeded to make love and re-acquaint ourselves with the hills and valleys of the topography that makes us. We made love, both of us coming quickly, as though the urgency of our lives transcended what would normally take us hours. We then had a nice dinner. Champagne. We watched "Will and Grace" (which he didn't like) and "Sex and the City" (which he did). I loofahed his feet, spending time spreading a warm lotion on the bottom of his heels, and then we curled into bed, solid and warm, and had each other again, before being ensconsed in his arms and falling asleep.
In the morning we had another round of loving, and then decided to hit the road-the town he lives in is quite dull, and he wanted to take me away somewhere, so we headed for the most southwest area of England, called Devon. We drove along the seaside, my feet propped up on his dashboard and my thoughts of the visa just slightly twinging my head, and decided to try an unusual hotel in Exeter for the evening-Hotel Barcelona, which was a former Victorian Eye Infirmary that has been remodeled into a fabulous hotel. It was done in extremely avant-garde precision although was well done, if a bit creepy-it was strange to go into your room and know that it used to be a former ward, where sick and injured people slept.
Talk about a place with ghosts.
We made ample use of the bed then, before heading out into the town to scrounge up some dinner. I have no idea what the industry is for Exeter, but the place was hopping-it was packed in every restaurant (including a Moroccan one we really wanted to try) and so we wound up at Pizza Express, with no other options. We had a nice meal there, though, and then went to a few nice pubs to relax with some decent ales. Mr. Y took hold of my left hand, examining the weird toothpick-like lines down the side of the palm. I knew it bothered him, I knew he didn't want me to do it, but I think he also knew that I am falling apart now, and had no other form of relief.
We then headed for a trendy bar in our hotel, fitting in easily with the crowd of youngsters, professionals, middle-aged, the scantily clad and the jeans-wearing. We fit in well and felt comfortable, and as we headed towards the bar to get a drink, his hand went round my waist-hoving there, holding me and guiding me. We got our drinks and headed in to where a man was singing in a strong and assured voice-"Mad World", he sang, a song that bridges both my generation and Mr. Y's. As I sipped my martini, his fingers laced through mine and he pulled his face close. When Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" came on, we sat down and he pulled my chair nearer, smoothing my collarbone with one hand while clutching a beer in the other.
And then we went to bed, and made love again.
The next day we drove through Dartmoor Forest before heading back to where he lives, taking time in the car to talk, to fantasize about what our lives will be like if I get the visa. These dreams, they are dangerous and intoxicating-to find myself on the edge of being able to right myself and land on my feet, and to find it with someone I love so much, seems like the kind of karmic Christmas that I would never be allowed to have.
Sunday evening we had a bit of a struggle talking about his children, and I can see this is going to be a heated point in the future. I don't feel I am allowed to give my opinion, and I give my opinion only as thus: I was a child when my parents divorced for the final time, and not far from the age his daughter is. I know what it's like to be there, and I know what happens when divorces go wrong, as they often do-it all goes to hell quickly when the hurt and anger of a divorce comes through. I would just protect everyone from that, but I can see that my views and opinions are not popular, or perhaps it is all still too sensitive to him, so either way I will try to remain opinionless unless asked.
The evening was salvaged by a curry and Mr. Y's fervent hugging and hoping that I was ok and happy. This night would be our last chance to see each other for at least a month, since he is taking off the end of February for 2 weeks with his children. So we reconciled any tension and sat on the couch, touching, talking, laughing, relaxing, and when we went to bed we made love for a very long time, catching up on years worth of missing kisses.
And yesterday he spent the day with me, holding me and talking to me. I put food in his fridge and left my sweaters in the bottom drawer of his bureau, as a beacon and reason for me to come back for them. I felt so fucking calm around him, so relaxed, and so sure that this kind of love is the kind of love I am supposed to have. The ability to slink myself around his ankles appeals, and I will purr for him and the saucer of cream he offers.
I am home now, and since my flight arrived very late, I haven't spoken to Partner Unit (should I start calling him X-Partner Unit now? Hmm.) I think I will be moving all of my things into the guest room now-the two little eggrolls that we have been in the bed now can be single-served into different beds. Regardless of the visa, I know this relationship at home is over, and so does he.
I await news of the visa with pins in my stomach and an ache in my heart. I know that people think that my job doesn't define me-but once again, it does. And I know that people think what life offers me is what was meant to be-but for the first time in so long, I have seen something in life that I want. Something has woken me up, brought my senses to life, and for that I can't ever go back to sleep again. I am riding on the edge of the cliff now, and on one side is the dramatic dreams that I need to dream to live. On the other, is the end of life 5. And Life 6. And there is nothing there but darkness and decay.
And my daily fear continues about the visa-some bureaucratic glitch could come in, forcing me to lose it. I could be deemed not worthy. I could fail. I continue with my daily mantra...."Please. Please. Please...."
-H.
PS-to my anonymous benefactor, thank you. It's a wonderful, fabulous gift that will get me through the week now, since I finish up Band of Brothers today. Thank you, thank you, thank you-you made me smile and gave me a reason to face the day.
Posted by Everydaystranger at February 10, 2004 10:29 AM | TrackBackGosh, it feels good to steal som minutes at work and read you again - I've been far to busy these last few days...
Anyway, I'm glad you had a great weekend in Old Blighty, frequent, great sex, cuddling, beer, and everything included. And I continue sending happy thoughts you way about the work visa. (Please speak up as soon as the results are in, so I can uncross all those appendages I've been keeping crossed for so long. ;-)
Posted by: Gudy at February 12, 2004 09:12 AMAnonymous books. Does that sound like Emmie?
Posted by: brj at February 11, 2004 11:21 AMSteve-you have to prove that you have been together for 2 consecutive years before you can have a residency visa due to personal relationships. And that will be a while, especially since Mr. Y's divorce will take over 6 months to come through. But good advice, anyway:)
Jim-I know-I'm mental :(
Posted by: Helen at February 11, 2004 10:34 AM"..no other form of relief"...wow.
I understand the whole - you need a job in order to get your life moving again. And I'm glad Mr Y is the perfect guy.
But correcting that form of relief needs to move to the top priority. Sorry, I'm sure you already know that, but it's scary and I just feel terrible for you.
Helen,
Can't you get Mr Y to marry you so that you can get your visa approved more quickly? Just a thought? Besides, if he's serious about you and isn't just having a little fling on the side he'll do it for you because he'll want you to be around permanently.
Posted by: steve at February 11, 2004 04:57 AMi just had a funny realization today....when you talk about mr. y, i picture mr. big from sex and the city. teehee. :-)
Posted by: kat at February 11, 2004 02:27 AM(said like "na-nie na-nie booooo boo) Roger is a sissy. Roger is a sissy. He cries in his office... :)
I'm completely joking about the sissy part Roger. Real men DO get choked up and teary eyed when something really happy or sad happens. If my joking was offensive in any way, I apologize and won't do it again. If not, there's more where that came from :)
Miguel, I'm jealous of the frequency too. I wish super-model Mrs. Solomon and I were half as active as Helen. Even that might be too much :)
Helen, have you ever done a post on what you believe a "Real Man" is. It might be interesting conversation.
Posted by: Solomon at February 10, 2004 09:44 PMGLad your trip to England was nice and full of happiness. It tough when you have to pull away to go back home but hopefully will not be for much longer.
As a silver lining you have to go home to get presents :). Presents are good :)
Posted by: Drew at February 10, 2004 07:55 PMHelen, i have to agree with Roger 100%, you have the ability to say what is in your heart, we all wish we could do the same!
abs x
Have faith. You'll get it. Takecare and Godbless.
Miguel-it's weird, but this time it really does feel truly life and death to me. I was ridiculously fortunate to get a job in telecom two months after losing mine. If I don't get the visa, I lose the job and the hope-and I also have no other way of entering the UK.
Miss Wench-I do hope that it gets better, too. Right now, I feel I shouldn't hold opinions on his divorce, his children, or anything like that, and I hate feeling stifled like that. All I want to do is offer support.
Paul-you may always call me Little Flame. Just because I go take out my angst on the oven doesn't mean I shouldn't have a nickname from one of my favorites.
Roger-wow. Thank you, dearest. I never knew what I would do when I started this blog, I only knew that it became something to help me breathe and live. That I have affected you so much makes me feel like one little voice in the world has a chance after all. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Posted by: Helen at February 10, 2004 05:52 PMHelen,
I want to tell you what your writing means to me. When I discovered Everyday Stranger I was amazed! For the first time I stopped everything I was doing and went back to the beginning post and started reading nonstop till I was back to the current entry that day. Part way thru I closed my office door because, you know, I didn't want anybody see the wet eyes of a tough old scientist. You see, no one sees the inside of me that you expose so eloquently about yourself. It wasn't all sad tears; sometimes I was laughing hard because some posts are truly entertaining.
Because of you, I have become a better listener. I realize that no one can risk being as open as you are here in writing until I/we give them a "safe" chance.
You take the risk of writing Everyday Stranger and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Thank you Helen.
Posted by: Roger at February 10, 2004 05:35 PMI'm glad to hear you've found a safe harbor in the midst of all this turmoil. It's too bad you can't hole up there yet but I have every confidence you'll be able to soon enough.
The reference to the old eye infirmary/hotel seemed odd at first but then it really made sense. Your wrists and hands may carry the scars of pains from the past but so do our eyes. I've met some people where just looking into their eyes conveyed such a sense of pain that it almost made me want to cry for them. With the continous love and support of your beloved eYe doctor I'm sure you'll never lose that sparkle that gives us a tiny glimpse of the incredible soul that's behind them.
Take care H. (Suddenly the little flame nickname conjurs up a mental image that is anything but pleasant. It is hereby retired.)
Helen, I know what you mean about the children. When Majesty and I first got together, the topic of His children, but especially His daughter was what I called an 'untouchable'. It always made Him defensive, it always caused hurt feelings for me, and it always brought out His papa dragon instincts, so it was best left alone. Now that we've been together as long as we have, it's much better, probably aided by the fact that His daughter and I are now friends, and she was even the Maid of Honor in our wedding. Usually, those things get better with time. I know that's a trite cliche, but I've found it to be true, in my own experience.
Posted by: wench at February 10, 2004 05:21 PMHelen, does everything have to be "life or death" urgencies? IŽm talking about the job. It would be the greatest thing having the visa stuff pull thru, and nailing dream job. But if it doesnŽt? YouŽve figured out by now where hapiness is. So if that fails, youŽll just have to search for options... and options will be available for wonderfull you. My point is: hapiness is in London with Mr. Y, not dream job, right? There will always be dream jobs #2, waiting for people from the looney bin ;). I am also applying! lol. Love, Miguel.
p. s. (1) - you have so much sex, is that healthy?
p. s. (2) - yes, IŽm just jealous...
I know, but I love that you were hard on him, Clancy. It feels like my a panel of my big brothers were looking out for me, or something :)
Posted by: Helen at February 10, 2004 05:13 PMGlad you're back with us H. And I'm glad things with Mr. Y are going so well - I was a little hard on him in the beginning but he's redeemed himself quite nicely...
Best wishes on the Visa - no more bureaucratic glitches!!!!
Posted by: Clancy at February 10, 2004 04:56 PMAt this point, as loony as you feel, I envy part of what you have. You have Mr. Y in the flesh. You have a place where you can make a decision. You have sadness around you that will surely pass. I know it will.
So, you are going forward, whether or not everything turns out the way you want. Things will turn. They have to.
I send you my best wishes, Helen. I want so badly for things to turn out the way they should. I'll be thinking about you.
After today, part of me doesn't have much to hide anymore. I need to start turning.
Posted by: Rob at February 10, 2004 04:15 PMI know what you mean about needing those dreams to live. I am here hoping and wishing for things to go your way.
Posted by: Talia at February 10, 2004 04:15 PMSolomon-We didn't work out the first time due to indiscretions and the fact that...wel...he was married.
Since he is divorcing, it looks like it won't be a problem. As to the indiscretions-well, an action plan has been put in place to prevent problems with that.
kat and Plumpernickel-thanks, dearies.
Posted by: Helen at February 10, 2004 03:34 PMWhy didn't Mr. Y work out the first time? Won't whatever split you up then be a factor still?
Posted by: Solomon at February 10, 2004 03:14 PMYou don't belong to the loony bin, you're just unhappy and stressed out and in an unravelling relationship and are maintaining your sanity and write lovely posts. I'm glad you could be with Mr.Y and I hope you get your visa problems sorted out. Anyone who owns Luuka cannot be in the loony bin. I cant listen (am too far away) but I always respond to emails. Cheers!
Posted by: plumpernickel at February 10, 2004 03:11 PMyou don't belong in a loony bin my dear. or if you do, then we all belong there! sounds like your weekend was just wonderful----nurturing---and you certainly needed that. i'm sending loads of positive vibes your way. hang in there sweetie. xoxoxo
Posted by: kat at February 10, 2004 03:09 PMMargi-You are fabulous, and I love the support you give me.
Abs-I promise to ship it over to you once I make sure it's the good stuff.
Jim-It is spooky, weird and bad that I do that. I agree. But Best Friend and Dear Mate don't really know how to handle me when I get that way, either. Proof that Helen belongs in the loony bin, I guess.
I may take you up on that offer of listening, thanks darling. :)
Posted by: Helen at February 10, 2004 01:28 PMI'm so glad you've got Mr.Y to lean on. It's a bit spooky to hear about the oven - maybe next time you could talk up Dear Mate or Best Friend since Y is out of touch for a while? Just for my sanity, y'know? ;-)
I'm always available too. Can't give you the hug you need but I can give you the reassurances and I'm a fantastic listener.
Posted by: Jim at February 10, 2004 01:21 PMGlad you have found some hope. Can you pass some my way?!
abs x
I'm sitting over here, a world away, hoping, wishing, praying (yes, praying -- shaddup) that you receive everything your heart desires.
I don't know how I know -- outside of your wonderfully crafted entries -- but you most assuredly deserve that peaceful, calming love that you feel when you're with Mr. Y.
I know very much from experience how that feels. I was lucky enough to *finally* marry him in 2002. I hope that you do NOT have to slog through the waist-high broken glass like I did. . .but if you do. . .and you need a kindred soul, I'm here for you.
Bless you.
Love,
M