Addicted to Harmony

They say when you give up one addiction, you might find another. We are a society of addicts. At least, that’s what my mother says.

I want to live happily every after, even though I know I can’t. Yet that still motivates me. The other day I walked past a store and saw a sign that said something to the effect of: “It’s time to improve your life. Buy this and be happy.” I didn’t take it seriously, but it set off some thoughts. Imagine if much of this society was happy with itself, self-confident and didn’t feel the need to try to prove itself, impress others, or pretend to be something it’s not (due to feelings of inferiority).

Oh my goodness, the economy would be even worse! I don’t even want to think about how many businesses and products would go down the drain if they couldn’t feed on our insecurity. So I think it’s definitely better if I don’t progress to the point of only buying what I need or just like (if I can afford it).

That’s just a left-over tangent from my wanderings. So today I admit that I am powerless over harmony. I want it. Day and night. Even though I know it’s not good for me, makes me do stupid things, and sometimes even harmful things like stay too long in the wrong relationship or say “yes” instead of the more appropriate answer.

This past summer I took to the balcony, seeking refuge with a glass or two of wine and cigarettes. That went on for a few months, but I didn’t find harmony. I just numbed out somewhat, which isn’t so bad sometimes. By the end of summer, I had a funny feeling that it wasn’t such a good idea — at least, not on a daily basis! So I stopped. No, not completely, but cut back considerably. My head is much clearer these days.

But last night I headed out there again. The sky was clear, the moon nearly full — irresistably attractive. Then I came inside and watched “Stepmom” with Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon. Thank God I watched it in the privacy of my living room! The tragedy got to me.

Afterwards I went outside and sat for a bit — without numbing utensils — and felt incredibly sad. You know all those songs about lost hopes and dreams? Now I can guess where they came from.

Then it was strange. I closed my eyes tight and saw total blackness, imagined being transported to somewhere else — beyond this life? To my own movie? I heard the familiar neighborhood sounds, but the perfect pitch darkness was impressive. It would not have surprised me if I could never open my eyes again, or if I saw new surroundings when I did open them. Nevertheless, I was indeed able to open them, and it all looked the same. So I went back inside and went to bed.

Perhaps that is how a harmony addict hits bottom: by sitting in total darkness and simply feeling that utter pain in her heart, laying her hand upon her heaving chest as the tears silently roll down her cheeks and knowing: I am powerless. Lucky as I may be, I am a miniscule speck on an old blue-and-white-striped lawn chair, staring at the clear dark sky.

The revelation came today: one day at a time, I can live without the pursuit of utter harmony. I can just be.

I’m so excited!

Now that I’ve recuperated a bit from bidding my son adieu for 3 weeks, and I worked 10 hours today, I was sitting outside on the balcony with the cats, drinking a glass of wine, and it suddenly occurred to me: I am on vacation for a week! Yahoo!

Tomorrow I can straighten up and pack, and then Tuesday I’m off on an adventure. I’ll take the train to Prague, where I reserved a room in a hotel for two nights. That gives me a chance to wander around the city, and Wednesday night Patti Smith is playing a concert. My “concert friend” will arrive the day of the concert, so we can spend the afternoon together. I met him at a Patti Smith concert 11 years ago. Since then, we’ve been to two Bob Dylan concerts and several Patti Smith concerts — and had our share of adventure along the way.

The day after the concert I get back on the train and head to Salzburg for one night to visit a good friend. Then I’m off to Vienna to visit another friend and spend the night there. Then I head to Styria for two nights for a garden party at another friend’s house. I look forward to good company and new impressions.

My husband will keep an eye on my daughter, and I’m sure all will go well. It is strange, though. Since I moved, I am so happy to be home. It’s hard to go out. In the past, my trips were a combination of excitement and escape. I was utterly relieved to get out of the house for any length of time.

Now it’s a real vacation, and yet I will look forward to coming home again. I am filled with gratitude at how the quality of my life has changed over the past couple of months. It is amazing how quickly things can change — in this case, definitely for the better. Thought I have an irregular work schedule and days off in between, the idea of being away for an entire week thrills me.

Funny, too, that I am willing to be content attending only one Patti Smith concert. She is playing four concerts this week, and they are not so far apart. But I already had plans, and I will stick to those plans. If this had happened a year ago, I’d probably be yearning to go to all four concerts. But now I am happy with my life, look forward to visiting with friends, and that’s how it is.

I am grateful for this life. Grateful to have come so far, to have recovered, and to be able to enjoy what life has to offer. Thank you higher power!

Out on the town and acting as if

I’ve been to the movies three times in the past 3 weeks. That is a record! I haven’t done that since… I lived alone in New York City and was actively bulimic. Back then I went to the movies for various reasons: to get out of the apartment, to keep out of trouble, to see a good movie, to lose myself in a film and to enjoy myself. I have always loved going to the movies.

Over the past 25 years, it became a rare occurrence. To think I used to love going to the Carnegie Hall Cinema and Film Forum to watch European films, and here I am in the heart of Europe and stayed home most of the time! There were some years that I didn’t even go once. What happened? Oh, nothing spectacular. It’s just that my husband doesn’t like to go to the movies. He didn’t like it when he was my boyfriend either. So I stopped going, and learned to complain and feel sorry for myself instead.

Cut! We now have 2009. A local theater is doing a special program where they show 5 films about various psychosocial themes over the next several weeks. As a psychologist who decided she didn’t really want to be a psychologist because she wanted to be a rock star, who now has a job which has more to do with psychology than rock stardom, I have developed a new interest in such matters. Maybe I was just burned out from being a student for so long that I decided I’d had enough! Those of you who are familiar with some of my posts know what is coming: WHY I developed a new interest in the subject is not what matters. I just did.

And now that I’ve been going out in the evenings not just when I have night duty, I’m starting to like it! So last night I had the urge to go out. I’d spent Friday night at home puttering, singing and such things, but last night I was itching to get out. I knew my husband wouldn’t be interested, and most of my friends had been on their annual ski outing, so they were busy with aprés ski. One friend had to babysit — for her grandchildren!

Then I remembered that old saying about acting as if. When you want to recover: Act as if you are. Play the part already right now! Don’t wait. So last night I thought to myself: “What am I waiting for? I want to go out. All these years I’ve been complaining that he doesn’t like to go out and that I’ve missed out on so much. I’m not quite ready to take my own apartment yet, but hell, I can certainly act as if we are already separated and go out! See what it’s like to go to a concert all by yourself.”

I found something in the newspaper that seemed rather interesting: James Blood Ulmer. I guessed it would be sold out and it was too late to make a reservation, but then I saw that they were also showing an interesting film — in the same cultural building complex. So, I decided to give it a try. If the concert was sold out, I could just have a drink and go home, or go to the movies on the upper floor.

There was a good crowd, but I was able to get a ticket. Then I went into the bar/café area, since there was still time before the doors opened. I ordered a drink, sat at a table, and worked on a letter. I was feeling a tad vulnerable and not in the mood to people watch, so I absorbed myself in writing and listened to the hum of the crowd and the background music.

Well, the concert was absolutely wonderful. I had a great time and thoroughly enjoyed it. There had been one empty seat next to me, and a man sat down. Towards the end of the concert he made a couple of comments related to the concert. Friendly enough. Afterwards I went out into the hall, and then decided to quench my thirst, listen to a bit of music in the bar, and then go home. It’s just not fun to rush right home after a concert.

I happened to see the same guy standing by the door, so I went over and started a little conversation. We had a nice chat, I finished my juice, said goodbye and went home. It was a nice evening, and I was quite pleased with how it went. I must admit, it is a bit strange to go out alone, but there are other people who are alone as well — and many are open to a little conversation. I just have to act as if I know how to go to concerts alone and talk with people, then it works.