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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Monday, May. 10, 2004 - 2:00 a.m.

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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

One year ago today

Nothing like scanning in some photos to give one focus instead of blathering and burbling.

Today is one year since I moved my ob to San Francisco. One year since the beginning of the end. We left on May 4 and drove and drove and drove in a Ryder van and arrived on May 10th, which was a Saturday. Friday night was my last night with ob to myself, not in someone else's house, surrounded by someone else's friends and dog and stuff.

Saturday the 10th we drove into the city. It hadn't been the fun road trip ob promised me it would be. She was supposed to make music for the trip (she was a spiffy dj and had hundreds of cds) but the truck hadn't any cd or cassette player. I brought fun and cute sundresses. It snowed. I thought we would be in a warm truck with the windows rolled down, laughing and goofing off. Ob had a headache and was uncommunicative. Worried about whether she actually had a job when we arrived... normal when one spends all ones cash to drive across the country to a strange city.
Marys leaving house in Detroit

I read Lynda Barry's "Cruddy" out loud, and it made us smirk. I wrote down especially good quotes. We ate bad "vegetarian" food in bad restaurants that were meant for meateaters. That was sort of fun. We had sex once or twice. We had more snow. We took photos and more photos. The ones that came back to me at Christmastime.

Marys walking towards Ryder van
We crossed into California in a huge snowstorm. I took pictures with the sombrero from Cinqo de Mayo, my sundress, sandals and California oranges in front of banks of snow. Go California Go!!

We stopped for the last night in some motel outside of San Fran so we could arrive on Saturday the 10th during the day, around noon.

I was scared. I was scared we would break up cuz of the distance. Cuz it costs so much to go back and forth. But I had planned ahead, and bought tickets for returning to San Fran in June, and planned when I would go back in July and then August so that she would know I was committed to staying with her, and I would be less scared.

She left me phone messages saying how glad she was I was going with her on the drive, and how much she loved me and didn't want to lose me and wanted to keep me in her life, the night I left Montreal to go drive her to SF. I wasn't scared she didn't love me.

Her Mme was in SF. But she told me she didn't want to be owned anymore. That I was 10/12ths of her pie of happiness. That she only wanted to do service one day a week. That I was her girl. That the new apartment had a great kitchen to cook meals in. That there was a big table where I could draw.

That the roomate didn't mind me working and staying there when I visited. That it would be the same as in Detroit and I should feel at home. Her home was my home. That there wouldn't be anymore dogs barking all night and day in the apartment below. That the neighbors below wouldn't drunkenly bang on the door and call me a fucking cunt when I did laundry. We would have a good time. We would make a go of it. I was her girlfriend and she loved me.

I had been prepared to hand her over to her Mme if she wanted. To step out of her life. Be just a friend even though that isn't what I wanted. But no, she wanted me. I was her girl.

I was still scared. I tried just to be supportive. I put my anxiety into organizing everything. Packing and labelling boxes, organizing them, packing the truck, driving, reading the road map, taking photos.

Marys on street in SF in front of ob's new house
That wasn't so good. While I worked, ob slept, visited with her friends, let me take charge. Later she said that it wasn't good, that she could see that I would pick up any slack. I noticed she didn't take charge of her own move, and let me do so much work. And she turned it into a fault in me. I let her get away with being lazy by picking up the slack. Shit.

When we arrived at noon it was sunny. Her Mme was expecting us. I waited in the truck while they hugged. I tried not to cry. What would happen.

We went in.

The mess began. Ob had never told me the room she was moving into was her Mme's old room.. she just said a friend had an empty room in an apartment for cheap. But it was her Mme's room, and her Mme's apartment to move into had fallen through. So the one room we were to move all of her stuff into (all of the stuff from 5 rooms) was full. A queensized bed, bookshelves, a chest of drawers, a computer and computer desk, and she was in the midst of packing boxes and boxes and suitcases. Clothes and boxes and suitcases and stuff to the rafters. We needed to unload a whole Ryder van into that room and return it. She knew we were arriving months in advance. She had invited ob. It was crazy.

I went into the bathroom and cried. It was too much.

And no, there wasn't a barking dog downstairs. Ob had neglected to say that she was going to LIVE with a barking dog. That pees on things. A tiny highpitched barking dog.

(and later the roomate would yell at me, without even being drunk. So it wasn't even downstairs neighbors... less space, no privacy, thousands of miles away, a barking peeing dog, and a yelling roomate... all in all a good thing).

Ob and I went for lunch while SOME stuff got packed up in the "empty" room. I cried. It was too much. Worrying about the logistics of the longlong distance, the worries of being so far when she had a roomate and Mme in the same city emotionally, the moving, the full room. Too much.

When we came back we helped move stuff into the Mme's car, and were supposed to follow her across town to Berkeley to unload some of her friend's stuff from the van. Driviing, and carrying, then vacuuming, then driving. Then to drop off stuff at some storage place for the Mme.. "what is the address? The telephone # in case we get lost" I asked. "I don't know... I know where it is, follow me" she replied.

Saturday afternoon at 4-5 pm in SF. Zooming in and out of traffic she lost us. We had no key to get back into the apartment ob was moving into. No idea where the mme was. We went and sat in a restaurant. I couldn't even brush my teeth cuz my bag was in the apartment.

Eventually we got back in, and carried all obs stuff into the room. Put her mattress against the wall, the boxes in a corner. Her bedstead under the bed. Crammed everything in around the queensize bed, computer and other furniture. It was crazy.

Marys in front of their new home in California
While I tried to organize things so ob could find her stuff for work, clothes, shower stuff etc, the Mme and her lover had dinner in the kitchen. I thought it was funny someone would invite someone to move all the way across the country and the night they get there, not even offer to share dinner with them in the same house. Then she left.

We realized we had no key. We were stuck in the apartment. With the barking peeing dog.

It was a hard time. I thought it would get better. Eventually the owner of the dog would come back so we didn't have to take it out to pee. Eventually the queensized bed would move out, and the phone line with the Mme's voicemail on it and ob could have her own phone. Eventually the boxes would be gone.

I didn't know then that I would go before any of those things. (well, the owner of the dog DID return, and the Mme asked ob to get her from the airport, but ob had to work. So the Mme asked me to get her. To drive an unknown person's car in an unknown city to pick up a complete stranger at an airport. I didn't do it. Hmmm. That is the roomate (who was also the Mme's best friend, what a coincidence) who later shouted at me that I couldn't be there, that I wasn't welcome to come back despite what ob said. I was the girlfriend of a sublet she yelled)

I think we got some sleep. The next day I would take ob on the BART to work, so she would find out if she actually had a job transfer, and when she would start.

In the morning we were woken up by the Mme coming in unannounced, using her key, to use her computer next to our bed. I had to dress in the bathroom.

My wonderful time living a week or two every month with my beloved ob was over. Done finished. That I didn't know yet. I thought in September things would get better. But they got worse. And saying there was a space for me, my house was her house, that she loved and wanted me in her life was not true. She promised different things to other people.

Wench77's headstone May 2003
That is one year ago. It seems such a short while. I had a girlfriend who held me and loved me and told me she adored me. With soft brown eyes and a huge hug. My first girlfriend since 1997.

Sometimes I want to be alone forever. Sometimes I just don't think at all, and just am busy. Sometimes like now I am really really sad and miss her so much. It is dumb. I don't even have her as a friend. I guess I had fun and was happy for 9 months. Someone loved me. Or at least thought she did.

All photos copyright 2004 wench77

Read my other entry tonight here.

Just for good measure, here is what is wrong with me. This entry would qualify as 1) getting emotional 2) crying too easily 3) needy and dependent when I feel someone is pulling away 4) clinging to the past... well, I dunno. I guess reminiscing is not really clinging. But i am sad anyways. Time goes by too fast.

3:13 am Searching for photos i found and reread the entry I wrote on Christmas eve after she wrote me an email saying never to contact her or her friends and family. It is such a stark contrast to what I thought I had. Wow. And double Wow.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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