Today‘s outfit is an old top from Vivienne Tam, that was my mothers. the skirt is also very old. Can’t remember where it‘s from. I’ve never paired these two together before. Around my neck is the yad from my bat mitzvah. It’s used to read Torah, so your finger doesn’t touch the parchment. I wear it as a necklace sometimes. Back to yesterday’s sad tale…
Neighbors peeked their heads out. It was after 1am. He had pulled my hair and my head was sore. “am I bald? I asked the paramedics. “No, you’re not.” I didn’t believe them. I went into the ambulance. I thought I’d be with him, but I wasn’t. the paramedic took some of my blood. When we got to the hospital, it seemed like they didn’t know what to do with me. I was OK, but I was still tripping on acid. The pattern on the curtains was moving around. The nurse asked me some questions to check my level of alertness. What day is it? It’s valentines day, I said.
I had to pee. I didn’t have a mask and people were looking at me weirdly. Who would have thought you’d look crazy for NOT wearing a mask. They let me get up on my own. My ex’s twin came and picked me up. I felt so bad. Where was he? Was he ok? I had his phone. We didn’t know his password. We came back to my apartment, and I picked up the hair that had come out of my head. I cleaned up the blood from when he started banging his head against the ground. I changed the sheets that were soaked in his urine. And I lay there, confused about my choices. How would I explain this? What could I possibly say? And why did I want him back?
The next day, we found out that he was sedated at the hospital, but he had assaulted an officer and they were going to arrest him. Since we had broken up, it felt uncomfortable to be too involved. This was a family matter, and I wasn’t part of the family anymore. His mother had texted me, asking where he was. I couldn’t respond. I had liked her so much. She was artistic and didn’t care what people thought of her. All her clothes were too tight. Her hair was dyed red and her bangs very straight. She liked my stories. She’d given me the weirdest piece of art I could imagine. During the pandemic, she had taken to assembling old doll heads on top of tea pots. Essentially they were creepy baby heads. She’d offered me one, and I couldn’t resist. I still have it. It has strawberries on it, and they’re my favorite looking fruit.
It was valentines day and I was alone in my apartment. Everyone was posting happy couple pictures on social media. Some got engaged. I was in hell. I didn’t even know where he was. The next day he called me, from his mothers phone. She dropped him off, to pick up his suitcase of things. I told him she could come inside, since it was so cold out. She came in, but didn’t even make eye contact. Hurry up, she demanded. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would be the one to blame, but he was her son, and she wasn’t capable of anything else. I was the nice jewish girl who had done drugs with her addict son. I should have known better. I was bad. I wasn’t to be trusted. These themes have plagued me for much of my life. This was just the latest scenario. So that was last year. I’ve learned a lot since then. I haven’t dated since then. I’m still alone. It’s still a pandemic. I’ve tried to turn this into art. I’m still triggered by it. I’m still sad about it. But I’m sharing it anyway. Because each time I do, it feels a little lighter. And my ex is ok. I don’t hate him. I don’t hear from him. He moved back in with his parents for a while, and he’s getting on with his life. I should too. But I think about that night a lot. The sequence of it. The dialogue. The thought process, or lack thereof. What I was trying to accomplish. What did happen and what could have happened. Why did he take so much? It all could have gone differently. His parents wouldn’t hate me. But this is what happened and I have to accept it and keep learning from it. People have plenty of opinions and advice from me, but I’ve only ever really listened to myself, for better or worse. Learning to be whole and complete on my own is the most bizarre experience, but I’m doing it.
happy valentine‘s Day