The Number 19
Sunday, May. 13, 2007 9:46 PM

"You must be the change you want to see in the world." - Mahatma Gandhi

I haven't felt good lately. It's like I'm on a roller coaster and my happiness goes up and down and up and down. The odd thing is, I'm not depressed. Or at least, I'm not as depressed as I have been in the past. It just feels like I'm running into a brick wall half the time, and in order to move forward I need to find a way around the wall, over the wall or through it. Maybe I'm trapped in a brick box with a brick lid but I just don't know it. And that's why I can't stop myself from thinking about the meaning and point to everything.

I had the oddest dream the other day. At first, I was inside my childhood home. I was talking to the new homeowner. In my dream, this lady had long straight brown hair. I asked her if I could look around the house and see what changes have been made since I lived there. As she was showing me around, the house felt real. It didn't feel like a dream at all. Everything came into focus as if I was actually walking through the house.

I had a bag with me, a sky blue pillowcase. Inside the pillowcase was a bunch of multi-colored kittens. The lady exclaimed to me that she wanted one. I told her she had to have two because cats had to stay together in pairs. Before I could hand her the kittens, I focused on the old stone fireplace. It looked exactly the way I remembered it. And next to it was this green plant, a tall green plant with giant leaves. The plant was beautiful. And I remember thinking in my dream, "how can it look this good when I'm dreaming?"

The next thing I knew, I was looking out our old sliding glass door into the backyard. Everything looked wonderful, but then it didn't. I watched the sky go from bright to dark in a matter of seconds. Storm clouds came into existance like a swarm of black smoke until it filled the entire sky. It made everything pitch black, even the inside of the house.

All of a sudden I was back in my house. I was crawling across the kitchen floor on my hands and knees. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. I can even remember the feel of the linoleum on my palms and kneecaps. There was a bright yellow light coming from underneath my fridge. I went to it, trying to find out why this light was coming out from underneath it. I couldn't figure it out. I just kept looking and looking but seeing nothing.

Then suddenly I saw the same light coming from my back door. It appeared that the back porch light was on. I thought to myself, "why is my porch light on? It's never on." And I started to crawl towards the back door. The closer I got to the door, the more defined things became. I saw a black figure beyond the curtain, like a shadow of someone standing there waiting for me. I hesitated the closer I got to the door, but that didn't stop me from sliding the curtains apart. Standing on my back porch steps was a figure with no facial definition as if it didn't even have a face. It was all black from it's head down to it's toes. And even though it didn't have a face, I knew it was staring straight at me through the glass.

I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came. Instead a male voice filled the silence. It spoke to me as if it was in the same room as me, standing next to me. But I felt like it's presence was behind me and that it was staring outside at the figure on my steps with me. The words it spoke scared me more than the image in front of me. It said exactly this, "Jessica. Face your fears, Jessica."

And then I woke up, my heart beating a little faster than normal. I still haven't figured the dream out. I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm supposed to face.

It doesn't have anything to do with what's going on in my life right now. It doesn't have anything to do with the number 19, either. This is where the number 19 comes into play, and what's going on in my life right now.

The Number 19:

My sister Jenny is getting married on the 19th. My little Webkinz Ollie the Lion is celebrating his 1st birthday on the 19th. Asif is going on vacation on the 19th. Shawn is closing on a house he just bought on the 19th. Will, the Wendy's guy, turns 26 on the 19th. Jenny's future husband John was born on July 19th. I was born on Oct. 19th. Claus and Nessa, my cyber twins, were born on Oct. 19th. The apartment I lived in before this place was #1910. Just reverse my birthdate... 10/19. And this entry I'm making right now is my 19th entry.

My Life:

Well, my sister's getting married next weekend. That says a lot right there. I fear getting close to another brother-in-law only to lose him, but I don't think that will happen this time. I'm happy for her. She's finally found happiness. This guy is definitely different than the other two. I can feel it.

My brother will be home tomorrow for a week. After that he flies out to San Francisco to find an apartment for Tom and himself. He's taking back his Trailblazer, a car I've grown very fond of. I'm worried about the car insurance and the tags (money I spent on the vehicle that I'd like a return in investment on), let alone the loss of a car I've grown dependant on. But in the end, these also aren't real fears. Money isn't everything.

Shawn, whom I haven't spoken to very much since we went on our little outing awhile back suddenly sent me a message on My Space telling me that his phone got ran over. He's wondering if I want his new phone number and if I still want to hang out sometime. I thought he had found me boring or didn't like the way I looked or something. Suddenly, he's making a reappearance. I don't know what to think or do there.

I'm still not on speaking terms with my cousin. She's done her best to avoid me at all costs. This is fine, though. I have noticed that the rest of her family doesn't feel the same way so I am content with this temper tantrum of hers. Even her husband isn't reacting to it, which surprises me. I thought at first she had deleted her husband from my My Space, too, but he's still on my account and Haley and Comet's. The good news is, my aunt and uncle arrived on Saturday and took the furniture out of my garage. Now I have room to store my stuff for the winter. The weird news is that we ran into her and her sister at the mall. It was extremely awkward. Normally my mom would have invited them to join us (Mom, Jenny, Angie, Megan and me) for an Orange Julius or something, but we stood around making small talk and then wandered off leaving them behind in the store. My mom still has this idea that my cousin will eventually get over my new office desk, but I doubt it.

The Greensburg tornado claimed more victim bringing the total victims to 13 for the city, 14 for the state. I didn't get to go out there last week, but I am more than likely going out there this coming week. I've asked Brian if I can go with him the next time he goes out there. He said I could. For some reason, I want to see the destruction first hand. I want to feel the overwhelming sadness that comes with such a tragic event. It makes me wonder what's wrong with me.

The other thing that makes me wonder what's wrong with me is the fact that I was upset that my friends from out of state or out of the country didn't call or ask me if I was okay. Only three of my friends cared to contact me in some way to find out if I was all right: Av, Davy and Claus. I don't know what I was expecting. It's not like I'm a victim of the tornado here. Sure, the company lost one of it's LLC's in the tornado, and 11 of our employees lost their homes while one of our employees lost some family... but did it affect me in any other way than that? No.

So why am I upset nobody cared to call to see if I was okay? In the end, I'm only upset with a few people, not a lot. In the end, I'm only upset with them because it just brings out the truth that I care more about our friendship than they do. In the end, it just makes me realize that everytime I've ever needed them, they weren't there for me. And now that I have to face that truth, it hurts. Part of me feels selfish in feeling this way. Part of me wants to call them both up and let them have it. Another part of me just wants to let go of it all and forget everything.

I feel like I'm a contradiction even to myself. The worst contradiction is when it comes to sex. I love sex but then I loath it. Sex makes me feel good sometimes. Other times it makes me sick to my stomach. Even just thinking about it makes me feel sick inside. Sometimes I crave to be touched. Other times I don't want anybody to touch me at all what-so-ever.

Somedays I want to be loved and to fall madly in love with someone. Other days I want nothing to do with it, as if affectionate intimate love is a disease. Somedays I want a family. Other days I don't think I'm grown up enough to have one. Somedays I want this. Other days I want that. Somedays I don't want this or that.

I think I've figured it out now. I heard something on TV the other day. It's been stuck in my head ever since. In order to have a future, you have to let go of your past. I wonder if that's the fear I'm supposed to face... letting go of my past completely so that I can have a future. Letting go of my past completely is my fear. Facing my past 100% so that I can move on is my fear. Perhaps that's what my dream was talking about.

What do I fear? What is it that scares me?

Everything!

Absolutely everything pertaining to my life.

I fear ending up alone but I fear ending up with someone.

I fear not being able to have a family but I fear having one!

I fear turning old but I fear dying young.

I fear looking into the mirror someday only to find myself staring back at an old woman whose life is full of regret.

I fear standing in front of that mirror completely naked looking at a body which isn't my own, a body whose youth has gone completely away from it.

I fear I'll never love myself for who I am inside because I'm always so hateful about what I look like on the outside.

I'm never skinny enough. My skin has flaws. My eyes are to small, my mouth is to big. My hands are to wide, my fingers to short, my teeth not straight enough, my hair to curly. I have ugly feet. My toes are fat. My ankles are always swollen.

I feel like I've been clueless my entire life. I feel like nobody's ever told me how to act and therefore I don't know who to be.

Am I not feminine enough? What do these women think of me when they see me without my hair done or my nails painted? Why do I not dress the right way for work? Why was I always content on dressing way down? Why do I wear clothes to hide my body?

I don't know what to think. I don't know how to feel. I hate the way I feel. I hate the way I look. I hate the way I am when I can't even stand to look at myself.

Somedays I can't even stand to climb out of bed, but I force myself to do it because I have too.

I have a scar across my back shoulder. It's puffy and pink. I can't see it, but I know it's there. Sometimes it hurts.

I have a faint scar on my hand that becomes very noticeable in the summer as my skin tans. It's my reminder. It won't let me forget. It won't let me forget why I hate sex the way that I do, why I hate my body more than anything in the world, how I used to feel so numb inside when I wasn't feeling completely sad. It reminds me of when I used to be a cutter and I would knife my skin because physical pain felt better than the emotional pain. Could I ever do that again? The scar stops me, as if it's saying, "No, that's fucked up. Do you want the whole world to think of you as being completely fucked up?"

But what if I am completely fucked up? What if I am so fucked up and I don't even know it? Maybe that's why I don't have a best friend. Maybe that's why it's hard for me to make new friends. Maybe that's why I can't settle down or find a guy I find attractive attracted to me. Maybe they take one look at me and think, "She doesn't care about herself. Look at how she dresses, look at what she eats. She never wears make-up and she seldom dresses up. Her hair is always in a ponytail or it looks like it needs brushing. She doesn't need a boyfriend. She needs a mother."

And how can I be a mother to a child if I can't even take care of myself? How can I be a woman when I can't even get past feeling and acting like a tomboyish little girl? How can I be a girlfriend or a wife if I can't get past my issues with sex and intimacy? And why won't anybody tell me why I can't get past them?

I tried to talk to my old shrink about them. I tried to bring out my questions in the open. I opened up to her more than anybody ever before. I told her I couldn't feel sexual. I told her I couldn't even feel sexual for another woman. I told her I felt like my body couldn't respond to sex. And when I do feel sexual? It's like I'm a little tramp and I can't get enough of it.. and then I feel cheap and dirty and disgusting... like I'm a whore. And I shouldn't feel that way when I haven't been a whore. I shouldn't feel like I'm being a good little girl when I'm committing the acts of a consensual adult.

And what was her response? What was all of their responses? All the stupid doctors who shove me full of pills. I'm tired of them. I'm tired of all of them. "Here, take this. This will cure you." "Okay. That didn't work. Let's shove this pill down your
throat." "That's not working either. Here. Why don't you try sucking on these?"

Why can't somebody just tell me why I can't be normal? Why can't I have a normal functioning body? Why can't I get through one night of sex with a man without feeling abdominal pain let alone feeling sick afterwards?

Sometimes I fear I'll never get over it. I'll never get over it and I'll never be able to move on and have a family. And I think that's what I fear the most...that in this world of people who strive to conform to the ideals of society, I'm going to be the one child in my family who dies 100% completely alone.

And they look at me like I'm funny because I don't bring men home. I don't even talk about them. And when they plan things, it's always for couples... and they always have to fit me in like I'm a fifth wheel. And that only makes me feel even more an outsider than I all ready am. And sometimes I like being alone. Sometimes it comforts me to know that I can just go home and not have to deal with people anymore.... but even though I'm sometimes satisfied with being by myself, there's always a part of me nagging at me that I'm supposed to be with somebody... that if I don't find somebody to be with I'll end up alone. And I won't have anybody to inherit my stuff, and when I'm in a nursing home there won't be anybody who comes to visit me.. and when I die, who will take care of my funeral arrangements? Who will take care of my pets?

And how in the bloody hell am I ever going to get past this problem with sex if nobody will ever fucking tell me what's wrong?