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2019-04-29 - 4:51 p.m.

Feeling better. Not great, but better. Thank God for Bob. Seriously.

____________________

Okay. Back maybe 45 minutes ago from tea (for me) and coffee (him) with Bob at Blk/Mkt. I am feeling better. At least in some ways.

Maybe some of what felt like anxiety or panic was withdrawal; I doubt I'll ever know. Some of that has abated. Continues to abate. But Bob also listened. Let me rant. Looked sad when I told him I drank last week, winced ever so faintly, but also backed me up when I said I'm not going to feel ashamed about it. I did apologize for being willful and doing something I "wanted" to do - something stupid - instead of calling him. Or cracking the Big Book. Or anything.

At some point I broke down and cried. "I'm ashamed of being so unhappy." And then immediately wondered: "About whom is that said?" I kept thinking it was Louis in "Angels in America," but of course (and Simon would have known this immediately) as I was coming home I realized Charles says it of Sebastian. As if that could explain anything to Lady Marchmain.

The noon West End meeting was just what I needed. As soon as we began the serenity prayer I thought THAT'S IT!!! "Serenity, to accept" what I cannot change. "Courage, to change" what I can. I thought I have neither of these things, I am trapped and PARALYZED between them, because I can't tell if I need to accept this as it is or make some effort to change it.

I shared. Eventually. Almost at the end. Said I drank last week. Said I'm so miserable and alone and trapped.

Katherine called just as the meeting was wrapping up. I texted that I would call right back. She answered, thank God. Like cool water on a hot day to hear her voice, filled with love and care. So calming. So good. And I got a really lovely note from Jack, too.

I texted Bob and asked if we could meet to talk soon, today if possible. No answer at first, but then he said he had been at the gym and could meet me by 2:15 or 2:30. Great, I said, Blk/Mkt; I'll go straight there and study my script until you can home, no hurry.

This dashingly handsome and very stylin' tall, skinny young man came out of the store, and I realized who it was. "Al!" I called. He came and hugged me. Asked how I'm doing. Really bad mental health day, I said. I got some herbal tea and eventually Bob arrived.

He let me rant. Finally he helped me think of what to say. I realized that if tonight isn't a whole lot better then I have to say something, because otherwise I am going to explode. And that will be ugly. I'll say things I shouldn't, and the person who will look like an ass will be me.

He surprised me by saying, at the end, don't be afraid to say a little prayer. God, help me do the next right thing; help me say what is going to bring us together on this.

I thought of Gobblers from Mary's, but they're still closed on Mondays. Went to the deli counter at Folgarelli's, where I was surprised to find Katherine (from Towne Plaza) waiting on me. Got a Willie's Special for MSB and a London Broil for me. Terrible diarrhea continues; I finally started taking pepto bismol and should probably buy immodium. Headache too.

I told Bob I feel so alone. I'm out of the house as Matt's getting up, I'm gone when he gets home. He's asleep when I get home. We don't see each other. And I feel so TRAPPED. So PARALYZED.

Funny thing, I keep wanting to give Joe the benefit of the doubt, to assume that there's method in all this madness. But that's not necessarily true. He may be genuinely batshit crazy.

Bob asked me a really interesting question: "Would you go to see him as a therapist?" That really caught me off-guard. Probably, I finally said, because of his empathy and intelligence. But then I said "maybe not, because he'd be so manipulative. He'd do all the thinking and choosing for me. Probably most of the talking as well. And as David said - he nailed it from the start - he is so sure of himself.

People have been cooking and eating for thousands of years, so if you are the very first to have thought of adding fresh lime juice to scalloped potatoes, there may well be a reason for this.

Thus spake Fran.

It would be different if he gave any sign whatsoever of knowing how to direct a play.

ebb - flow

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