Dave is the first human I'm interacting with today. It is 7:55pm. He disappears for a moment, and retrieves my package-- a book I ordered for my grandfather -- and returns to his post at the desk. I sign my name, and take an extra long while doing it. Today is Thursday, but it is Dave's Friday. I should leave now, and go back to my room. There is no reason for me to stay. I become very aware of how bright the lights are. How I have not showered. How greasy my hair is. How much weight I have gained. How I have not changed out of my pajamas, and how the toothpaste remedy did not get rid of the pimples on my chin.
I linger. Dave looks at me from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. With Dave, it's always good fun and banter. This is the first time he shows concern.
"The color is gone from your face."
"I haven't left my room all day." My voice cracks a little when I say this. I don't intend to be cryptic. I just haven't spoken to anyone, except for my mother, and I probably convinced her something is terribly wrong. Nothing is terrible, and nothing is really wrong.
I check my mailbox and find it empty.
"What's for dinner?" I insert myself into whatever conversation Dave is having. There are two other men behind the desk as well, both considerably younger than Dave (probably around my age), presumably students.
Dave procures a can of Heinz pasta from his pocket. "It's my Friday!"
A voice behind me: "I'm waiting on my nuggets."
Sadie. I love the cadence of her voice. She is from Louisiana, but after living in Dublin for two years, has adopted an Irish affectation. It's great to see her, especially waiting for chicken nuggets and french fries. It is comforting. Although Sadie is fully dressed. Her eyes are bright. I don't want to think about how I must look.
Dave looks back at me. "How about a pizza?"
"Had that last night."
"Chinese? Although it's shit."
"Got that the evening before." I'm increasingly aware of my presence in the room.
Sadie chimes in: "Boojum!"
I cower: "I had Tolteca for lunch, actually," and as if to make up for the fact that I'm constantly ordering out, I suddenly fancy myself a food connoisseur, particularly in the burrito department: "We all know Boojum doesn't hold a candle to Tolteca."
The group nods in agreement. One of the students looks at me and says, "The color is returning to your face now."
Last night, on the phone with my mother, she had a revelation: maybe I don't need to see a therapist, because the problems I used to have no longer exist. I don't live in New York anymore. I need to stop checking my work e-mail. I need to stop thinking about my ex-boyfriend. I need to live in the present.
Today, however, just an hour earlier, she suggests I call my therapist in New York. There is a hint of desperation in her voice. I wonder what it's symptomatic of. Perhaps it has to do with being a mother, being powerless 3,000 miles away, and the nagging reminder of my attempted suicide years ago.
"Maybe you should call your therapist. Can you get a phone card?"
I reassure her that I am fine. ...and the truth is just that: I'm fine.
It occurs to me, sitting here, smelling my own farts, that it's time I reevaluate what it means to have achieved something. I reluctantly order Thai and try to scoop up the molasses in my muddled brain.
- You are not seeing things clearly. You're looking only at the negative, as you always do. You cooked twice this week, and you did it successfully. You never really cooked before, but this time you did. Do you order out too much? Absolutely. ...but you tried something new, and you did something different. Are you gaining weight? Yup! ...but you've always had poor self-image, and that isn't going to change.
- You are in charge of what you do and how you live your life.Was it depression that made me cancel all engagements today? I'm not entirely sure. If we're being honest? Probably. ...but the truth is, I had no desire to go to my Mindfulness & Meditation group today. My mom seemed confused when I called seeking her validation and her advice. It is my life. I can claim it. If I don't want to do something, I shouldn't have to explain it. Most importantly, my life isn't falling apart.
- Zoom out and see the big picture.I haven't posted on this blog in a while because I'm largely dissatisfied with my program and with school. There have been a number of administrative issues that have had a seismic effect on my fellow students and our M.Phil cohort, but more to the point, my field of study doesn't engage me. I am mercilessly bored. I do not enjoy the readings. I am confused by my assessments.
...but this does not mean that I am stupid. It means that perhaps I do not want to become a practitioner of the theatre. I am used to giving everything my all, to the point of complete exhaustion. Perhaps it's time I simply did what I have to do and accept the universe as it is. I cannot force myself to enjoy the content of my degree, but I do have the power to shape my experiences here in Ireland, and there are several good things to show for it. I volunteer with multiple groups and all of my flatmates use me to edit cover letters and major papers. I don't have any best friends, but I've made a few good ones. - There are likeable things about you, and you have a purpose.You remember the names of the maintenance staff at your dormitory, and you didn't give up on finally attaining dual Italian citizenship. You have a life. You had a life.
You're okay. You're okay.