The Game of "Just Supposing" is the Sweetest Game I Know

A year ago today, I had a miscarriage.

I was 4 weeks, and I had no idea.

It was during a performance. About halfway through my show I felt the bleeding start, and thought that maybe my period had just come early. Not normal for me, but something that has happened from time to time. The show I was in was a One-Act, meaning there was no intermission, and I was never off-stage. I adjusted my costume as best I could to cover any leaks, and hoped for the best. The show ended, we bowed, I scurried off the stage and into the Green Room, where people were looking at me strangely. I run into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I am covered, literally drenched, in blood. There was no way someone could have not noticed. So, I begin to freak out. I'd never had a period that heavy. And then I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Locked in the Green Room bathroom, I must have stayed in there for an hour before I drove home. I was shaking, white as a sheet as I walked in the door. My mother followed me upstairs, and we talked, and once it hit me what had happened, I wept.
I'm not a crier. I was when I was little, but I've sort-of grown into this whole "I'm a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself" thing. I don't really cry much anymore. But that day... I dehydrated myself... I cried so hard my whole body hurt the next day. I called the hospital to see what the next step was, and they told me not to even bother coming in. It happened, there was nothing I could do. I was told to be careful, not to exert myself too much, and keep and eye on bleeding and spotting. If it got worse, call in; if it stopped, I would be fine.

I don't think I ever officially mourned the loss of my child. It's just something I carry with me. No one knows, outside of my mother, my room mate, and a friend or two. I've never told anyone. It's not something you really talk about in everyday conversation.
In my heart, the deepest, most secret part of my soul, I named her. (Folklore says a witch's first child is always female, and I'm a little inclined to agree). Constance Anne. She'd be 4 months old.

Sometimes, at night, when it's just me and the moon, I hear that vampire in my head. It tells me how pathetic I am, how I have to let it go, how frankly- no one cares. This is something I need to just shut-up about and deal with and move the fuck on.
And I don't know if I can.

...I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. Or him. He still walks on water for me, and probably always will. I am aware of his flaws, and am fully aware that we are better friends that we ever were lovers, and we were never quite that, either.

I'm stuck feeling that this is somehow my fault. That I did this. That I caused this with my "loose morals" and "raucous party lifestyle" and my "obsessive compulsion to chain smoke".  And maybe the people who said that were right. Maybe I did this. Maybe I deserved this. I just wish it would stop hurting.

I found a martyr in my bed tonight

Singing the procrastination song... lalalalala.

Last day of class at SCDS. Summer break! For the kids of course. Not me! Kate take a break? You must be high. When do I ever take a break?! I actually took my first vacation in 6 years last summer. Three awesome, awesome days.

Had a wonderful conversation with a friend last night. We've got one of those suuuuuper complicated friendships where we should be in a relationship but the timing was just wrong and now that window is pretty much gone. I really miss the idea of US. He said something lovely to me, that if it ever actually did happen, for some crazy reason, that we'd have a really solid marriage. No idea how the romance would work, but we'd have a really solid marriage, and I'd make a wonderful mother.
I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little bit on the inside. We'd have been really great together. But too much time has passed and we've both changed so much. For the better, yes, but we've stopped growing in the same direction. In most ways, anyway.

I've been single for about four months, and haven't been in a show for two months. So now's about the time that little vampire, that little voice in the back of my head swoops in. Filling me with doubt, insecurity, thoughts of self consciousness, feelings of worthlessness, making me second-guess everything. This little vampire is the vampire of despair. The one that wakes me up at four in the morning to say things like "who do you think you're kidding?" or "You look like a fool" or "no matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough..."
Why is it if some dude walked up to me at the bus stop and said these things I'd think he was a mentally ill asshole, but if the vampire inside my head says is- it's the voice of reason...

I am still living with your ghost

Even been haunted my something?
A song, a melody, a person, a spirit, a thought?
With me, it's usually songs that follow me everywhere I go. Looking back, I can say that it's probably the universe or my subconscious, trying to tell me something that I haven't been listening to.
But lately...I don't know... It seems like I'm being followed by something more. Not a spirit, not a cloud of bad luck, but... something...

On a different topic, I had a really interesting experience Monday night. To make a very long story short, I went out with a couple friends, did things I wasn't entirely comfortable with, ended up somewhere I wasn't familiar with, and ended up a long way from my car, barefoot, in the rain, alone, on capital hill, at 3 in the morning. It sucked. Luckily, I have hero's who talked me down from my panic attack. My buddy Nathanael, who is never awake at such an unGodly hour, was wide awake, almost ready, for my call. He talked me down, got my panic attack under control, kept me moving, kept me talking, offered on numerous occasions to come pick me up (But heaven forbid I let someone do something for me. My life could never be that simple). So with a general direction from my buddy Ray, he talked my through the ohhhhh half hour/forty-five minutes it took me to find my car, unlock the door, and get it. And I don't think I will ever be more grateful to anyone in my entire life.
I was raped, several years ago. And, in theory, I am healed, no longer broken, stronger, and I've put it behind me. But that hour alone on Capitol Hill put me right back there, quaking with fear, with terror, with helplessness...So help me God, I will never feel that way ever again. Ever. Fucking ever.

Completely un-related again. I had a wonderful date on Tuesday. Anna and I went out to dinner, thai food in Fremont is the best, and I had such a wonderful time! She's funny, and witty, and creative, and smart... There was never a lull in conversation, we talked about multiple things, we have several common interests...Dinner was awesome. After it was over, we wandered around a little bit, and she walked me back to my car. She kissed me (I didn't have to make the first move! Ahhh!), and we chatted and we went home. All in all, an outrageously satisfying day. :-) Mmmmmmthaifood.

Well, those have been the most recent adventures in my life. Go team.
Oh, I've been listening to Some Nights by the group FUN a lot. I can't decide if I love it or if it depresses the hell out of me. Melodically charming, lyrically heartbreaking...