Saturday, August 25, 2018

Chapter 39

October 2017-October 2018

I left my job three weeks ago. I am a cashier again. I am very out of shape and being on my feet so much is excruciating. I have taken too much Tylenol over the past couple of weeks and am in a constant state of near-yakking. I’ve run into several comedians at my new job and I thought it would be humiliating, being normal and unimportant again, but it’s nice. I am no longer under the delusion that I can do anything for them, and neither are they. I’m looking for a new job, without the guilt this time.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Chapter 38

October 2016-October 2017

I got a better handle on the mechanics of booking but was still drowning in a sea of other peoples’ hopes and dreams. There was SO much good about my job but so much of it bothered me; the exploitation and the the disposability of comedians was the worst. Why was something basic, like paying comedians, so obviously the right thing to do but the suggestion of it was met with blank stares? Was I crazy? Was I going to stick around and try to make the business better, or get out and save what was left of my soul?

Chapter 37

October 2015-October 2016

The business got heavier and heavier. I tried to settle in under the weight but found it crushing me. I tried to keep up with the demands from comedians and the club. I tried to live up to the person I wanted to be. I tried halfheartedly to find another job, feeling guilty for wanting to leave. I finally had a home, a family, and I still couldn’t find a way to be happy. I wondered if I was broken. I made adjustments to my attitude, to my expectations. People praised me for doing a job I was ashamed of.

Chapter 36

October 2014-October 2015

A friend killed himself. I had known that he was struggling. I had made a mental note to reach out to him. And then I let myself get distracted. I barely knew what to do with my own sadness, let alone his. Comedy was healing me; I’d assumed it was saving him too. I was still consumed by guilt. I knew that depression ran rampant in the comedy community – that was one reason I felt like I belonged. But I couldn’t lose anyone like that again. I considered quitting, everything. Instead of figuring out what to do, I kept going.

Chapter 35

October 2013-October 2014

I fell in love. I saw myself in him. He did not see himself in me. I interned at the club, running shows in the smaller room. I started producing a monthly comedy show. I tried stand-up. I determined to never do it again. I made friends, real ones. People that I liked, people who liked me. I tried stand-up again. I started working at the club, for money. I started hosting an open mic there. I was promoted to Booking Assistant. I lost my virginity. I started hosting shows. I got a raise. I started to find my voice. 

Chapter 34

October 2012-October 2013

I graduated with an AA in English from the local community college. I had saved some financial aid money, so I quit my job. I tried to be a novelist. My grandmother had a stroke, so I visited her in the hospital and then in her convalescent home. I kept passing by a comedy club, on the bus. One day, I went in. It was the first night I didn’t cry since my mom died. I woke up the next morning. I wanted to go back to the club. It was the first thing I’d wanted since my mom died.

Chapter 33

October 2011-October 2012

I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I won a scholarship. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom.I won Cashier of the Year. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom. I missed my dead mom.

Chapter 32

October 2010-October 2011

Then she died. Of all of the things that I had dealt with in my life; my little brother’s death, foster care, etc., my soul had only ever encountered a stubbed toe compared to this inner mutilation. Every aspect of my psyche was shredded. I determined that as long as my older brother breathed, so would I, but I promised nothing else to myself, or to God. I changed jobs. I needed to work somewhere no one had seen me cry. It became very important to me to seem okay to everyone else. I was outwardly warm but frozen inside.

Chapter 31

October 2009-October 2010

What had seemed like support during my agoraphobic years, I now interpreted as encouragement to give up, to stop trying when life got hard. I was angry that that was her advice any time I felt overwhelmed. I started looking at where that philosophy had gotten her. I judged her. She sensed that, and she quoted Oscar Wilde at me. “Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.” This time was painful for both of us and we both looked forward to the end of my overdue teenage rebellion.

Chapter 30

October 2008-October 2009

I realized that people liked me even though I couldn’t quite work out why. I was so nervous about doing everything right all the time but if I’d been trudging through life before, now I was learning to skip. The only downside was that gaining some independence affected my relationship with my mother. She felt a little left behind, and she would push me away with one hand and pull me back with the other. People said that we had a co-dependent relationship. I started to push back, spent more time by myself and my new friends, developed my talents.

Chapter 29

October 2007-October 2008

Policy was to only hire a skeleton crew so if anyone called in sick, the place would fall apart. Everyone had to do six jobs. I’d get home and hours of human interaction would echo in my ears. I started taking real classes and it turned out that I was smart enough to handle them. In retrospect, community college is built for 18-year-olds just out of high school -- but college looked so hard on TV! I was pleasantly surprised to like my teachers and what I was learning. I felt like I was getting a handle on my life.

Chapter 28

October 2006-October 2007

I switched to part-time at work and enrolled in the local community college. I was sure I wasn’t smart enough for college so I started out with a drawing class and a creative writing class. I loved the writing class. I felt like I was moving in the right direction, making money and friends. I hated my job. I worked at a thrift store, so my hands were dirty all the time. There were no bar codes so customers would change the prices. Every transaction was a fight. We were without a manager for the first year I was there.

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Chapter 27

October 2005-October 2006

I woke up one day and I was twenty-seven. Ten years had passed since high school. I still wasn’t ready to go out and start a life but I’d exhausted the option of giving up before I tried. I determined to go out and get a job. Mom, my brother, and I moved to a larger city. I got a job as a cashier. My kindergarten dream had come true. I hated it. Being on my feet for 8 hours after being sedentary for 10 years was torture. Being around people after being essentially alone for 10 years was worse.

Chapters 19-26

October 1997-October 2005

The next several years were a blur of sleeping, drawing, Oprah-ing. I ate my weight in Doritos and read, read, read. When I wasn’t reading, I was crying. I felt like such a loser. Feeling like a loser made me tired so I’d sleep some more. The internet became a thing. I waited to become a writer. I cried and slept. My crush from fifth grade on got married. I slept. I cried. I tried to figure out how to get my life together, I cried. I became a Christian. Feeling like God had my back helped with the anxiety.

Chapter 18

October 1996-October 1997

After high school, I fully expected to feel better, and I did for a while. But after a couple of weeks, the idea of going to the grocery store with my mother would elicit the same panic attacks that the idea of going to school did prior to that. I slept, a lot. I was so tired. I changed my sleep schedule so that I’d be awake while my mother and brother were asleep and asleep while they were awake. Interacting with people was like scraping my skin off with a pair of open scissors. I didn’t have many friends.

Chapter 17

October 1995-October 1996

I lived in such terror of having another public panic attack that I would have dropped out of school if it hadn’t been for the school counselor, Mrs. Cohen. She liked me, I’m still not sure why. She sat me down and showed me how close I was to graduating. She let me drop most of my classes for the first semester. This gave me a chance to breathe. During the second semester, I missed too much school to graduate on stage but I scraped by in all of my classes, at least one of which I should have failed.

Chapter 16

October 1994-October 1995

Eleventh grade was when I really freaked out. I was in class one day and sassed a substitute teacher. When he sassed me back, I walked out. I had to leave because I didn’t want anyone to see me cry. I went into the office and called my mom to pick me up. I cried uncontrollably while I waited. Mom let me cry and when she blamed my period, I didn’t have words to explain what it really was. What it really was, was a panic attack. I’ve had a lot more of them since then. I’m basically an expert.

Chapter 15

October 1993-October 1994

The person I was in my head was so different from who I actually was. She looked so different. I read romance books voraciously, imagining myself in tight skirts, meet-cute-ing my One True Love. We’d have passionate verbal battles that would end in equally passionate kisses. Meanwhile, in real life, my skin was exploding, my hair was limp, and I was so fat. At school, I was constantly vigilant about being picked on, though it rarely happened. After school, my whole body would unclench in one big shiver. I sprained my ankle and missed school. It was such a relief.

Monday, July 9, 2018

Chapter 14

October 1992-October 1993

I avoided her throughout the summer but for some reason she still considered me a friend when we hit ninth grade. She got her aunt to adopt the baby and I continued to avoid her as much as possible. I joined an experimental college prep program and became notorious for turning in a non-essay criticizing the essay question for our final. People thought I was a badass. I really just didn’t understand the poem. I was close to 300 pounds and lived in constant terror of being humiliated. I hated myself. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be cool.

Chapter 13

October 1991-October 1992

My new best friendship ended more organically and I got a new new best friend. She dated my brother and when she dumped him, he got really mean. I was on her side until her new boyfriend beat up my brother on Halloween, causing him to go blind for a few hours. I was furious but my mom convinced me to remain friends with her until I could get her to confess. I couldn’t hide my resentment, though, and let it out in passive-aggressive insults. Then she confessed to me that she was pregnant and I called her a slut.

Chapter 12

October 1990-October 1991

Seventh grade SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKED. Getting to “choose your classes” turned out to be a lie. The only class I could get with my best friend was Band. I chose the clarinet because she had a crush on a clarinet player. Then she dumped me cruelly and publicly and we still had to sit next to each other for the rest of the year. I got a new best friend that I liked a little better, although she scared me a little. I shared no classes with my still crush. I stopped dieting. I gained weight and a couple of new bullies.

Chapter 11

October 1989-October 1990 

In sixth grade, I got a best friend. We didn’t like each other that much but at that age it was more important to be able to call someone a best friend than to have a real one. I carried my fifth grade crush over to sixth grade. I even got to sit next to him for a semester, which was amazing and humiliating. I spent most of the year anticipating the next year, when I’d be in junior high and basically a grown-up. I spent the rest of my time in books. Oh, and I got my first bully.

Chapter 10

October 1988-October 1989

In third grade, I caught up to my reading level, so I skipped fourth grade. By this point, I had seen my mom around her family enough and spoken to her enough that I had gradually let go of the whole kidnapper thing. I’d occasionally wake up from a nap in a panic but other than that, life was settling down. In third grade, I’d tried to have friends but that hadn’t worked out, so when I got to start over by moving into a fifth grade class, I decided to keep my head down and try to be invisible.

Chapter 9

October 1987-October 1988

Getting accustomed to living with a kidnapper is easier than you’d expect. You just have to accept that you have zero control over your life (which was something I’d already learned) and hope that someday your real mom will find you. So that’s what I did. I wasn’t just going to let it go, though. On my way home from school every day, I’d come up with a list of questions my real mom would know the answers to. Then I’d sit through Donohue and question my fake mom during the commercials. She didn’t seem to mind talking to me.

Chapter 8

October 1986-October 1987

I tried to kill myself. When that didn’t work, I ran away. That didn’t work either but it did lead to a new foster home. The third one wasn’t great. My fourth foster mother was Mrs. Lewis, a saint without whom I wouldn’t know what stability looks like. Mom came to visit and I thought that she was an imposter trying to kidnap me and my older brother. It wasn’t that it had been so long since I’d seen her, as she’d visited multiple times throughout the year. I had face blindness, although I didn’t know it at the time.

Chapter 7

October 1985-October 1986

My little brother got hit by a car and died. That sucked. Mom spent a sleepless two weeks tweaked out on meth. My older brother and I ended up in foster care. The first foster home was okay. The second one allowed me to become intimately familiar with pure evil. Evil shared a bunk bed with me. Evil taught me to smoke and kept me hungry and made me wear the same clothes to school every day. On Sundays, Evil’s mother would cover up my black eyes with makeup and we’d all pile into the car to go to church.

Chapter 6

October 1984-October 1985

I started kindergarten at a new school, as my older brother started second grade. I didn’t know that this was my second year of kindergarten, just that I’d been in school for a long time and that I had learned nothing of interest. Got a best friend, got a boyfriend, had my first kiss (just above the elbow during naptime). I found Fun with Dick and Jane condescending and unimaginative. Determined to learn to write so that I could write something better. Stayed away from the neighbors who for some reason filled their garage with bunnies (aww) and snakes (eww).

Chapter 5

October 1983-October 1984

We moved back in with Mom’s parents for a bit and I started kindergarten. The Teacher had her favorites and I wasn’t one of them. There was a play store where we could pretend to shop for groceries. I got to be the cashier, once, and it was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to me. Then we moved into a roach-infested apartment behind a liquor store and switched schools. My little brother was kidnapped by a local tweaker. The police brought him back the next day. We moved to a two-bedroom fourplex across from the high school.

Chapter 4

October 1982-October 1983

We lived with my mom’s parents for a bit and then Mom found an apartment across the street from an elementary school. I would sit on the staircase outside our apartment and watch the kids play at recess. I’d trying to pick out my older brother on the playground, while managing my jealousy and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to start school. I was the most bummed that I couldn’t glimpse any of the interesting parts of school, the stuff that happened in the classrooms. I knew how to run and play. I wanted to be old enough to learn everything.

Chapter 3

October 1981-October 1982

Mom ran away with my brothers and I to local shelters several times but always went back, trapped by poverty, bad choices, and lack of familial support. Her family lived in California but the physical distance wasn’t the only issue. My mother had been kicked out at age 16, after a lifetime of abuse. But when she reached out to her father, he arranged to pay for us to come to California. After a false start (I invited my dad along), Mom regrouped and we spent the night at a women’s shelter, before fleeing on a midnight flight to LA.

Chapter 2

October 1980-October 1981

My mom hated Ohio. In winter, blizzards made her a prisoner in her own home. Then summer heat was so humid that even showering couldn’t make her feel clean. Her husband was abusive but drugs and drive-thru liquor stores were abundant. Despite everything, Mom was excited to be pregnant again. She prayed for a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy, and two years and 9 days after I was born, that wish became my little brother. He was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, twice. Once he caught his breath, he made an immediate impression as a strapping, sweet-spirited baby.

Chapter 1

October 1978-October 1979

By the time I was born, I already had a brother one year and 2.5 weeks ahead of me. My mother tried to work odd jobs but gave up when she came home from selling Avon to find me taking an unsupervised bath. My father's job was to scout around the neighborhood for pot plants during the day and then go back and steal them at night. It was the perfect crime – back then, pot was illegal, so stolen weed plants wouldn’t be reported to the cops. The downside was that my father could only sell what he didn’t smoke.

Prologue

I was borne into the late 70s unto to two ethnic mutts of vaguely European heritage. I once asked my mother what attracted her to my father and she replied, with a shrug, “Nothing.” When pressed, she admitted that he wasn’t bad-looking but that he was shorter than her. I guess that means something to tall girls but I got my height from my father so I was perplexed by her answer. When pressed further, she shrugged again, and said, “His friend was dating my roommate. I thought I couldn’t get pregnant.” I'm not surprised that it didn’t work out.