Fulcrum

Well. There went the week.

I feel, right now, like I'm at something of a turning point. Things were really, really terrible for a few days, I won't lie. I feel, though, that I had to sink to the bottom to feel the grit and sand of desperation between my toes before I could swim all-out for shore.

Last weekend wasn't busy, though I did end up puppy-sitting a stray dog who we had rescued a few days' prior. My mom brought him over with the intent on him being adopted the next day; her friend, though, first postponed the pick-up and then changed his mind entirely. So I was saddled with a young, un-housebroken puppy for the week with nothing to do with him and nowhere to put him while I was in class. Fun.

I made the mistake, too, of agreeing to cut my ex-boyfriend's hair for him. This is more intensive than it may seem; his hair has been growing out for years, with only occasional trims, and he wanted it cut short before he left for a three-plus-month trip to the Amazon. Of course it was going to be emotional, but things had been better between us, so I thought it might be alright.

Needless to say, I was deeply, devastatingly wrong. First he was late in meeting me, which was a wasted hour and a half, and then he had forgotten his camera-- another hour round-trip for him to fetch it from home. The evening wore on, and we were getting away from the small talk and into more personal territory; I talked to him a bit about the new guy I have been dating, and my feelings on the matter. As you, reader, are undoubtedly more astute than I, you will surely and correctly assume that this is where things got Bad.

It started out with him making subtle comments about how futile it was to date someone with whom you weren't planning a concrete and long-term future. I tried explaining that we were young, and it didn't really matter, that it was more about enjoying each other's company and not having to plan too far ahead... that has always backfired on me, after all. Of course, none of this went over well, and he got more and more worked up over the subject. Eventually we were fighting, shouting, crying, and he was employing his favorite manipulative tactics by turns because he so badly wanted (rather, wants) to be with me. Charming, right? Why wouldn't I want that?

I still do care for him, though, and when things were ugly I couldn't turn him away. He revealed that he hadn't been eating, and so I couldn't not feed him; he revealed dark, destructive thoughts, and I couldn't let him go home on his own. That was a mistake, of course, because once he had arrived home he sent me e few emails saying he was fine. I don't know how broadly embroidered-upon his confidences were, but they were scary enough that I couldn't ignore them. I made him stay that night (Monday) because he seemed so unlike himself; I hoped that he would be alright after some sleep. He barely slept, though, and woke me up every few hours trying to rekindle a fight. Failure.

I did get him home, though, and spent an emotional morning researching suicide hotlines and counselors in town for him-- though I know he would never use either. It's a burden too heavy for me alone, and I have been his only outlet for it. I have tried enlisting help from his parents, but they do nothing. From my mom, but she sides with him. He's been emailing me several times a day, trying to see me again, and I have of course refused... I'm just not sure what to do anymore. Luckily my friends, especially my closest girl-friend, have been absolutely wonderful in supporting me and helping me make the right decisions.

So my Monday evening had been wasted, and most of my Tuesday as well. Thank God I don't have classes and don't work until 3:30 Tuesdays and Thursdays, or I don't think I would have survived past that night. I was still home alone and still taking care of the pup, though I had had one response to the CraigsList ad I'd posted in looking for a home. Beyond that, rehearsals for the Women's Studies Department annual play (in which I am a lead) were getting more intensive, and that evening we were running the play for the first time. We were also off-script for the first time and I wasn't memorized so, you know... a good day. I wasn't home until around 11, and completely drained.

Wednesday, though, was when things came to their breaking point. I had missed my first class for the second time that week, due to the fact that I was rushing to get my work done and printed before (and, subsequently, during) class-time, and was too embarrassed to show up half an hour late. I got an email from my professor after my other morning class, saying that he was unsure whether or not I would be able to pass the course at this point, and I broke down. With so much going on in my personal life, and with so much going on in trying to get registered and paid and on top of things in my classes, it was just too much.

Wednesday morning culminated in me crying in the bathroom during lunch time, a move I hadn't visited since Junior year in high school. Throwbacks, yo! After that, though-- my aforementioned wonderful friend had come and sat with me and counseled me, and then reapplied cosmetics to my bloated shipwreck face afterwards-- things seemed to pick up. I went to class. I found the puppy a home. I did better at rehearsal (by the way, Tuesday's run? Was TERRIBLE). I even tried to hang out with one of my friends afterward, but he decided to nap instead. While I was at his house. This happened last time I was over, too, so I repeated my established tactic-- grab a beer and sit online. I don't like beer, actually, but it works. Things were Getting Better.

The rest of the week crawled by slowly, a drunk snail with an eviction notice but with the promise of a Floridian shanty town accepting new tenants sliding him along the pavement of life. I got a job, which is great! I start Tuesday, and I couldn't be more excited; it's a great little cafe, awesome atmosphere, brilliant co-workers-- theatre people! Hooray!-- and flexible hours. PLUS job security, so I'll be able to pay rent next school year. Yayy. Friday was as good as Fridays are, and rehearsals slowly got better; yesterday we did a preview performance for a Women's Hall of Fame luncheon, and were very well received. Encouraging!

Two best parts of the week have been in socializing, and not even with the people I expected to. I have a new penpal, who is brilliant and a wonderful writer and a lover of poetry and theatre. He's Scottish, too, but I'm in enough of a romantic mess to be as in love with him as my brain thinks I should be... furthermore, we're only casual penpals, as we're acquainted in real life and (this all comes around, I swear) now we're co-workers, as well! Hoo boy. We've had a couple good, thoughtful exchanges of emails, though, and really I don't need any more than that.

The next lovely thing was actually, simply, last night. After rehearsal-- we were done an hour and a half early! Yay! ...But it was only because two of our actors were missing and we skipped their scenes! Boo!-- I went home with my director. Of course, she's also the oft-mentioned life-saving bathroom-counseling makeup-applying best fraann, so it was less weird than it sounds. My co-star (read: on-stage lesbian love interest) (hot damn!) was also there, and we had a WONDERFUL night of girl talk and secrets and emotional analyses of each other... and, of course, tequila. And Vodka. Neither of which I had had before, but hey! No hangover! It was a welcome reprieve from the sober responsibilities (pun fully intended) that I have been dealing with so much lately.

Tonight brings more rehearsals, and then homework; tomorrow's our last day before the first performance. I also start work on Tuesday, at 5:45 am... so, eight hours of work and then a performance. I got this, it's cool. Like I said, things are starting to turn around.