Yesterday was a shockingly debilitating day; I woke at 7 with an attack of sadness, and I call it that because although most days I wake up with nostalgia and sadness, it is not as intense. Yesterday it was sharp and acute, I had a stomach ache and could not eat, could not go back to sleep, wanted only to cry, could not cry. We went to the post office to mail the newsletters and meant to go to Office Depot to return a printer but I had left the receipt at home, and when I came back I felt that I literally could not go on... I told Jim I would go take a nap, but when I lay down I started to weep... gut-wrenching sobbing that took everything I had. I thought it would be better to die than to feel such intense pain. At some point Jim came in and asked how I was, and I told him I missed my daughter. And he was kind and loving, he said she surely loved me, but the part of me that takes over at those moments was sure this was not true; I felt totally hopeless. He spoke as a true Marxist of the hope in the current terrible doings throughout our planet. The rational part of me agrees, but there was nothing rational about yesterday's Silvia. At some point he said I could just call her and tell her that I missed her and I love her. And although I nodded my head no, I began to think this was something I could do.
Eventually I stopped sobbing enough to make the call... I reached her answering machine and quite simply said, I miss you and I love you. Then I thought of calling Ivan. We had a wonderful conversation about a week ago, almost two hours, and we have not always gotten along as well. He was pleasantly surprised when I just said, I just called to say that I miss you and I love you. I said that I had just called to say that, but he and I talked for close to an hour, and it was a very good call. Not one of the 'plastic' (my daughter's word) or Mickey-Mouse relationship moments that I hate so much.
One of the topics of conversation was whether or not Cati's partner 'likes' or respects me, and of course we differ there, because once again there have been two incidents that were uncalled for cruelty and almost despotic disrespect. The first one came when I was visiting during the pregnancy and she fainted and hit her head on the wall, and I wanted to ride with them to the hospital, and he was vociferous in saying that he loved my daughter very much and he was taking her. I had not suggested anything different, but I was there, she is my daughter, I was terrified. I was left out of it all.
I can't, not today when I am more 'sane' or yesterday or when it happened, put a good spin on his reaction. I understand that he was himself worried about her and about their baby, but the over-reaction is not good, and the intent to leave me out is quite clear. He does care about family, but I am not a part of 'his' family, and apparently I am not to be a part of hers anymore either.
Last night after we went and came back from getting the printer installed in the computer (at some point I was sitting outside on the sidewalk/berm and I called the house and Joan said her father had gone to the Palestine vigil and I felt suddenly bereft and overwhelmed, and I thought quickly of how to get under some car and end it all, the same reaction I had at 17 when my mother told me she would not be coming to my graduation because she was going to Europe, and I was crossing that very busy four-lane highway in Puerto Rico and I thought, I can rush into this thoroughfare and it will be all over, I will put an end to all the pain, but just then Jim drove up and that was so amazing...
One of the things I said to Ivan was that if I ever did something because the pain was too great I wanted him to know it was not because of anything he had ever done, but because the pain was unbearable, and I talked about Bardem's performance in El Mar Adentro, but he said sorry, but he would not give me a pass on that one, and said, which was quite funny, what kind of a thing would it be on Jim, who would not have gotten even his warranty period...
Jim says he does not want to trade me in or make a warranty claim (smile).
In the evening in our room we watched Spellbound, a wonderful documentary about the National Spelling Bee, and I all of a sudden remembered that I was a spelling bee winner about six or so months after I had first come to the US; I was able to spell the big words, including decapitated and bouillabaisse, but could not spell rye; I had no clue what rye was, had never seen or eaten any rye products... And my mother never came to the school or the regional competition with me, not then or the following year at the Miami Herald; I won a pen and she made a snide remark about the lowness of the price, she was happier when I won a similar contest in Cuba in second grade and the first prize was a year's free tuition at Academia Baldor. And then there was the year (fourth grade?) when I won 'best overall student' and I got to bring home the gold medal, but it was to be brought back at the end of a specified period; there were remarks made about that and I got, as I always did, a can of peach halves, and was allowed to take the first two peaches, but then the rest were to be shared with everyone else, 'because it is so important not to be selfish, Silvia, no ser egoísta."
Watching all the work by the parents, or when they could not help the contestants, their presence at the various contests brought back so much pain and dejection that I thought I had to write this down, so it could be a part of my grieving process...
I am better today. I slept well, I am loved and I love myself. I will survive.
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