For whatever reason, when I can get out of bed in the morning without an immense struggle, the day that follows is usually a decent one. Not always, but at least it’s a good start. I even got to work a bit early this morning, so things were looking up.
As far as the Sunday Blues go, yesterday was probably one of the worst in a long time. I don’t want to say “worst ever,” as I’m sure I’m drawing blanks right now, but last night was pretty fucking bad. It’s the tooth thing. I can deal with the bloody face. I can handle the gashed knee. However, nothing as bad as this tooth situation has ever happened to me before. I am still quite beside myself about it.
I can’t believe that I am missing my fucking teeth. When people ask me what my favorite thing about myself is, I always say my teeth. I get compliments on them almost daily. They’re the first thing people mention. My teeth are everything to me, and now I’ve fucked them up.
This has always been my biggest nightmare, too. Now, whenever I close my eyes, that nightmare is one hundred times worse. It’s no longer a concocted image in my head. I’m constantly reliving the events of Friday night. I feel my face smashing into the sidewalk and my teeth scraping the cement as my entire body collapses onto the ground. It’s a living nightmare. Every time I look in the mirror, I can’t get over what’s looking back at me.
After my shower this morning, my face almost looked like it was back to normal. Most of the scabbing had peeled away, and things looked relatively good. I was actually quite surprised by this, but then I remembered what happened when I had a rug burn on my face in April 2013, and I was reminded of the miracle of Vitamin E. That’s why I don’t care about the face as much. Sure, it could have been worse. However, what happened to my face this time was completely fixable. The scrapes will heal. Despite what RX thinks, my teeth will not grow back. Yeah. RX actually asked me if my fucking teeth would grow back. What a stupid thing to say. Ugh. They’re fucking gone. They’re fucking gone! Goddamn it.
I arrived at The Clubhouse, and got things started right away. Even though the scrapes on my face had almost disappeared, they were still bad enough that people at work would stop mid-sentence and gasp when they looked at me. Once I explained what had happened, I would then take out my retainer and show them the true damage. One girl almost threw up when she saw my teeth. It’s horrible. A few members and employees even said how bad they felt, because I had such nice teeth. Well, not anymore. Now, some of them aren’t even going to be mine.
This was my thing. My teeth were my “thing.” I had perfect teeth. It was the one part of me that I was so incredibly proud of. I hate every other part of my body, but I always knew that I had the best teeth in the world. Not anymore.
Big Bird wasn’t very sympathetic toward my injuries. In fact, she avoided me for most of the day. I’m guessing Big Bird was less than impressed by my absence at Saturday’s meeting, but at this point that was the least of my worries. Big fucking whoop. As I was leaving at 4 p.m. today, one of the front desk girls said that the meeting was an hour and a half of useless information. An afternoon spent going over things we already knew how to do – and that girl is newer than me!
Overall, my workday at the front desk was alright. I could have done without the mirror glaring at me from across the hallway, but I’ll just consider it part of my punishment. I legitimately look like a meth addict. Connor wanted me to send him a video of what I looked like today, so I did. Watching it back, I realized that “meth addict” might be a generous description. Apart from filming myself today, I also called Mom, set up an appointment to get my teeth fixed tomorrow, did my usual rounds on the internet, and actually did my job here and there.
Mondays at The Clubhouse are nice. I leave work at 4 p.m., and today my favorite server made me a sympathy iced coffee to take home after my shift. She screamed when she saw my teeth. What a little darling. I love her. Her name’s Crystal, and she’s an absolute riot. Crystal reminds me of myself, actually. Lately, I’m not sure if that’s such a good thing. I love Crystal because she laughs at everything I say, but also because she has come to work still completely smashed from the night before. Crystal is constantly coming into The Clubhouse with new cuts and bruises from her partying. At least I’m not the only one this is happening to!
After work, I walked home and enjoyed the sunshine. I had a great walk home. I love being back in two shoes. It just sucks that I couldn’t be a fully functioning human being for once. How ironic, too. Only four days ago, I was saying how weird it felt to be back in two shoes and without any cuts or bruises. Now, look at me. At least my foot was an injury by choice. This new stuff is just a fucking mess.
Back at the Witch Cave, I relaxed with a snack while watching the new Stranger Things show on Netflix. After that, I sweat it out during a full dust/vacuum/mop session, and relaxed some more with dinner and another episode of Stranger Things. I’m hooked. When 8 p.m. rolled around, that meant it was time for the gym. I jumped on the subway and did my thing for a few hours. I ended up watching yet another episode of Stranger Things on the treadmill, and was able to run my longest session yet – 40 minutes! I’m getting there! It’s also very important that I “get there” after a dinner of grilled cheese, pita, and hummus. I think I have a thing for carbs.
While closing my eyes in the sauna after my run, I had another flashback to the tooth incident. It’s very disturbing to me. I feel infinitely better than I did yesterday, but I’m still in a bit of shock. Mom says that once the teeth are fixed, I’ll feel a lot better. I’m not as confident. A part of me feels like this experience is going to leave a lasting impression on me. To be honest, I hope it does.
Is this what needed to happen for me to finally change my ways? Did the car finally have to crash? I don’t know. I never want to be in this situation again, though. I know that if I am, I might not have my parents to help me out. What hell I’ve put Mom and Dad through. Do you think they ever imagined that they would have such a problem child to deal with? I don’t just feel sorry for myself, I feel sorry for my parents. I feel like a disappointment all the time. Even though they deny it, it surely can’t feel good watching your eldest son be such a fucking screw up all the time.
I talked to RX very briefly this morning. That’s fine. I still feel good about our exchange yesterday. Although I wonder what will come of that encounter, it still feels better than any other experience we’ve had together since we broke up. A thousand fucking times better than our “date” night last November. At least I wasn’t crying on my way home yesterday. November was a disaster. Also, I don’t want it to seem like I’m thinking about RX all day, or anything like that. I’m not. At this point, I don’t really have any expectations. I’m just saying that I feel good about it. We’ll see.
Now, I’m home now from the gym. After a quick snack that I’m currently regretting, I washed up and got into bed – along with half a tube of Vitamin E ointment – to write this. I’m going into work super early tomorrow. I have to leave halfway through the day to get my teeth taken care of, and then the family is going to the Toronto Blue Jays baseball game in the evening, as a part of my birthday gift to all of them. I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t seen or spoken to Phillip since the shit that went down at his birthday dinner. I wonder what drama, if any, awaits.
Speaking of drama, since I found out last weekend from Dan and Connor that Evan was “furious” with me over the events of Pride – “The worst thing anyone has ever done to me since I moved to Toronto” – I decided to suck it up and send him an apology. The truth of the matter was that I really did feel bad. I think I even wrote about it in a journal entry.
Obviously, I figured Evan might have been mad at first. I was never completely sure, though. However, after over a month of not hearing anything from him, I thought it was safe to assume things were fine. Well, they weren’t. Knowing that, I decided while coming home from the gym tonight that I would draft an apology, which then turned into a very long note that I ended up sending to Evan.
Kurt: “So, I’ve heard that you’re quite upset with me. Before I get into what will likely be a long-winded message, I’m reaching out to apologize.
“I say this in all honesty: I really had no idea that you were upset with me. At least in the beginning. I know that sounds foolish and probably quite naive of me, but it’s true. I found out this weekend. What I did was out of line, I will admit that. I was drinking – not using that as an excuse, though – and to me, I didn’t think what I said was something you would get mad at. I thought it was a joke. A bitchy, shady joke, but a joke nonetheless. I felt bad after the fact, but time went by. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and I figured that after our last argument, we had come to an understanding that if one of us had an issue, we would be open about it. You’re my friend, and if a friend has an issue I always want them to talk about it. And talk about it to me. Talking to others about it isn’t going to progress the situation or make it better, mainly because I continue functioning as if everything is normal.
“Usually, the moments after Pride are quiet anyway as everyone recovers, so it didn’t strike me as odd that our group chat was silent. Not hearing anything from you after the fact essentially put my initial suspicions to rest and made me think there wasn’t an issue. After over a month, you surely would have said something. It wasn’t until recently when the silence continued that I thought there was a problem. So, this weekend when I saw Connor for the first time since Pride, I asked him about it. He didn’t tell me all that much, but he did tell me that you were extremely angry with me, had been since that night during Pride, and also explained why you were angry. This was all news to me.
“I apologize for what I did, and for what I said. While I may have my own reasons and excuses for my actions – consciously and subconsciously – that doesn’t matter. It wasn’t my business, and it wasn’t my place to interject the way I did. Like I said, I was out of line. Had I known that it upset you the way it did, or even that there was an issue in the first place, I would have said something. I’m sorry.”
Soon after, I received an equally long message from Evan. He thanked me for the apology, and explained things from his point of view. That was it. Now, we’re all good.
I know it’s not a comfortable thing to express yourself like that, but it is so necessary. Honestly, it really is. I think I proved it yet again with RX. Also with Phillip, the first time we had our major blowout. If you want to move forward positively in life and in relationships, and want people to know how you feel so that they can try and change, you have to fucking tell them!
If Valerie Cherish from The Comeback has taught me anything, holding your emotions in is how you get cancer. If you keep all of the poison inside of you, it will eventually kill you. Let it out, live your truth, and be honest. Those who care will stick around, and those who don’t care – well, you don’t want them in your life anyway.
This type of soul bearing honesty is not something you have to continue doing, either. In Phillip’s case, I already told him why I was upset. Yet, he then decided to turn around and do exactly what I was upset about again. So, why bother with it for a second time? Actions speak louder than words. Although Phillip says he wants to change, I have yet to see that take place.
Anyway, it’s pushing 1 a.m. right now. I need to be up in five hours, so I better get to bed. I just have so much in me to say right now. I want to get all of the poison out of me. I want to be happy, and happy enough that I don’t feel the need to take myself to the place I go every time I am around drugs or alcohol. My throat still hurts from my night with Spencer. I better not have a STD. At this rate, it certainly wouldn’t surprise me.
Goodnight xo
The video I sent to Connor this afternoon. The Clubhouse, Toronto