Stay, With the Demons You Drown

I went out on Friday night. I finally got my car back (it has been out of commission for over a week while my dad waited for the part for the air-conditioning compressor) and I was so excited about being mobile on my own terms again. I went to the new Yazoo Brewery to meet some friends, and some new people I hadn't met before. The new place is nice, even though it doesn't quite have the same crumbling-factory cool factor, but I think it will settle into itself eventually. I ran into some friends of friends and things were going quite well, although I still didn't really feel myself again. After the one beer (and a tiny freebie), I started to feel hungry, which as you probably know these days, is somewhat of an event. We decided to go to Broadway Brewhouse. Back at Yazoo, this drunk hippyish guy decided to latch onto me and came to BBH with us. He was really getting on my nerves after a while, although before he was quite as hammered, he could at least hold an interesting conversation. He came and sat down at our table with us. There were only two friends there I actually knew, and before I got my food, I started to feel overwhelmed. The place started getting busier and busier and it felt like all my emotions were crashing down on me. Post food, when my other friend got there, I started to lose it. I started ranting about what had happened and how I was sick of people telling me what I should feel or that I shouldn't feel, or that I should get over it. He said, quite rightly, that I felt like my feelings were being invalidated, and that if I wasn't upset, he would worry more about me right now. Still, I knew I had to get out of there as quickly as possible. The waitress took forever with the check and I ended up losing it and sobbing on his shoulder before I could make my escape.

I felt awful at the time because I felt like I had failed in my attempt to go out, distract myself, and try to have fun. Last night, as a contrast, I decided, after work, to go to Trader Joe's and the nice wine store and stock up on, yes, you guessed it: wine, chicken and bread. I drank enough wine to kill a small horse and managed to eat something, and talked on the phone and tried once again, to make sense of everything. The same friend whose shoulder I cried on suggested that I find a way to distract myself that didn't involve drinking, smoking, or general wallowing. He was so nice about it, that the idea did in fact creep into my head and stay there. It must have hibernated overnight.

This morning, I woke up hungry and ate a meager but serviceable breakfast, and it felt like something inside me had changed, although I didn't quite know what yet. When I got to work this morning, I put my hot water in the microwave to get it boiling for tea as usual, took it out and spilled the boiling water all over my hand. I spent the first half of the day trying to type with a big wad of paper towels and ice wrapped around it. Still I worked, and the breakfast and tea made me feel better.

Sometime this afternoon, an epiphany of sorts hit me, and I'm not sure quite how or why my attitude changed. I have been productive in applying for jobs, but that hasn't distracted me quite effectively enough. I decided I need something that will both get me out of the house, but not require me to be around booze or people, take my time, and get my creative juices flowing. 

I have been bitching about being poor and lusting over the Nikon D60 and other digital SLRs. Well, right now, I can't afford one, but I do have many interesting and quirky medium format film cameras that I can use to work out my demons over the next couple of weeks. I haven't felt a need to be creative in a long time, and it seems that trauma and emotional upheaval cause that need to appear. Tomorrow I am taking a camera with me to work, and I would like to use the best part of the evening, just before it gets dark, to take some pictures and see where it goes. I think the plastic cameras might be the best medium anyway, because they take away control and make a photographer go with chance and emotion. I have been so frightened of taking pictures because I told myself for years I wasn't any good and then I told myself after years of not doing it, that I wouldn't be as good now as I was ten years ago. I think that's absolute rubbish. I just have to give myself a chance to dust off the cobwebs and get the creative juices flowing and that's what I plan to do. I am almost relieved to have this need inside to create and work at something that has given me so much pleasure, and was once a passion of mine. It seems like I haven't felt that way in a long time, and if this is a side-effect of everything I've been through in the past couple of months, then it's a very welcome one. When one door closes, another one opens. I must remember my own advice to a friend who was getting a divorce a few months ago: "The universe will provide."