10 days of 28

I turned 28 a week and a half ago and reflecting back, I am growing. I have grown in so many ways, and adopted different ways of thinking. I have accepted the fact that I am, and will continue to be, confused about my sexuality, my appearance, my health, my future, and ultimately the meaning of life and my happiness. And to those who have been following, I failed at one important step of my action plan in my last post...the step about not chickening out, but again, I digress and tomorrow is another day. None of these things that I have opened with will be the topic of this post, however. I have been 28 for 10 days, and I will take this entry to reflect on those 10 days. At no point in time do I ever want sympathy, and this is certainly not an exception, so if you have it, save it. So without further ado, let's dive right in.


I turned 28 on a Sunday. Just back in North Carolina after a 10 month tour of New York, I hadn't yet reconnected with the local hipsters and my network was left wanting. I did however, have my biffle (b.f.f., best friend forever, biff, the endearing list of pet names goes on and on) and my ex-girlfriend (who also has her own list of pet names but will remain "she", "ex girlfriend", "her") with whom I have remained close with through both the break-up and time away.

September 6, 2009 - I was out with a friend of my biffles (b.f.f., best friend forever, I think you get it now) and collected numbers from random strangers, and made friends with people that I will never speak to again. Lesbians, old ladies, brides to be, women posing as men, frat boys posing as frat boys, boys posing as men, and single 30 somethings eager for attention. At midnight I toasted to a new day and a new year with 20 people I will never lay eyes on again. We drank to the occasion, and we drank in celebration. Today was my day. I drank until I kissed two lesbians in a cab, and passed out in a truck lost driving through the streets of Durham, NC. A successful start to 28 years old.

I woke up naked and found myself dreading the pain that would soon commence between my temples. Regardless, I drank some water, and prepared myself for a day with my "ex girlfriend" and close friend. Today we planned to ride our bikes around town, hopping from bar to bar, and laughing all the way. Afterwards we would head to the sushi place, and give that fish hell. We would drink too much, and laugh like kids. My image of what the day would bring was slightly off.

Dressed in my spandex at 10 am pumping tires and turning wrenches, I received a phone call. I would not be riding that afternoon because my birthday date was at the lake. The lake was 4 hours away, and she hadn't left yet. If I am going to be entirely honest here, I wanted so badly to be at the lake with her, but I wasn't invited. I could have gone, and had nothing else to do, but again, I digress. So I waited...I waited until 4 pm when I thought she would be back and ready to start our day. She would be late, but she would be ready for the ride and the other stuff too. 8 pm came around and I made some burgers with my biffles (b.f.f., best friend forev, oh yeah you get it now) friend at around 7 pm and waited for her. She finally showed at close to 9 pm. I spent most of my birthday waiting alone. I waited for phone calls, and high fives. I was looking forward to a bike ride and spending time with her. She left shortly after 10. I begged her to stay longer. She left anyways.

I think of myself as a pretty strong person, but this had me in a rut. I must have looked pathetic begging for my friend to hang out with me on my birthday. How could someone who says that they love me have such a high disregard for someone on a day that is supposed to be special?

Below is a list of my birthday wishes
1. hug.
2. talk.
3. play my songs for my friends.
4. spend time with my friends.
5. bake a cake.

I have yet to receive 4 of these birthday wishes. I will be baking my own cake tonight.

(the cake i baked)

That night I cried. It was my birthday and I was alone. Laying on the floor of my biffles (b.f.f., okay I think that's enough) green room, I curled up in a ball and cried. For the first time in not such a long time, I thought about dying. I thought about what it would feel like to stop the pain inside of me that I couldn't figure out. Would that stop the people that were supposed to mean so much to me, and me to them, from hurting me? Would that stop me from letting myself be hurt by them? I fell asleep after drinking whiskey until my eyes closed.

- I am skipping a few days because I choose to. I am the writer and I can do that...They were not particularly good days. I actually know that they were pretty bad days. I spent those days alone. I spent those days in bed. I cried like a baby, and drank like a fish.

September 9, 2009 - "She" asked me to go to dinner at a some fancy place. A kind of place that required a jacket and tie, and parents that live on a golf course and vacation in the Hamptons. The kind of place that has waiter with accents and large chairs to soke cigars in. I fit right in(now that was a bit of sarcasm for those who haven't been following along). I started the evening by drinking a few beers before I left my house. Already anxious, I wanted tonight to be easy and painless. Painless, it was not. I drank bourbon on the rocks, and skipped eating all together. My stomach couldn't stomach the thought of sushi, or a lecture from someone that crushed me three nights earlier. She talked, I listened. I should "do what makes me happy", she said. If only it were that simple.

I left "her" angry. It is seldom that I am angry, but when this happens, I seem to combust internally. I left angry. Speeding home, my eyes welled up. I gripped the steering wheel tight, and pushed the throttle hard. Half drunk, and completely enraged, I more than thought about steering my Volkswagen off course. I planned it. I thought of details that are important in the demise of an otherwise healthy 28 year old dude. I though of the most effective means of ensuring death upon collision with a tree. A telephone pole. A large drop. A stone wall. A fence. A bridge. My biggest deterrent was the fact that someone had to come clean my sorry ass off the side of a tree/pole/drop/wall/fence/bridge. The last thing I want is to make someone have to clean up after my mess...and this would be a mess. And again, I failed.

I pulled up to my house, turned off my car, unlocked my door, walked upstairs and brainstormed. I thought about how else I could go about ending this pain that I felt, and putting myself out of my own misery. Completely unfulfilled with anything and everything I have ever done, I couldn't help but imagine that my life would just be a series of disappointing relationships, accomplishments, birthdays, degrees, yada yada. What would change in the years to come? I googled suicide methods, and searched for the cleanest way of doing it. The first item was a suicide hot line. With a shaking hand and crying eyes, I called.

Ed answered the phone with a soft yet masculine voice. He asked a few questions about me, and a few that I feel are probably formality questions that need to be addressed for the suicidal conversationalist. Where was I? Am I in danger right now? Are you standing atop of a large ravine? Is there a weapon pointed at a vital organ? Dude where's my car? What's up? He listened. He didn't judge me. He listened to me cry. He said it would be okay. Although he was a total stranger that I found on a google search looking for methods of suicide...I believed him.

I told him I lost my job. I failed to reach out to my gnarly alcoholic/drug addict father. My birthday was the worst I had ever had. I am not proud of my new degree. I fail at all relationships. I want friends. I am bipolar. I am out of money. I have ADD. I have been depressed for 15 years. I am drowning in student loan debt. I hate myself most days.

He listened. Before we hung up the phone he asked if he could call me the next day and he did. He has called me a few times since our first conversation, and at his request, I have called him too. If it weren't for Ed, the stranger that I found on a google search for suicide methods, I shutter to think what might be right now.

September 16, 2009 - It has been 10 days since my birthday, I still haven't fulfilled my birthday requests, and do not believe that I ever will. I am okay with that and there is always next year. I am still struggling with all of the items listed 2 paragraphs above, but knowing that Ed is out there somewhere just a google search away helps. At least I know now that unlike what I was feeling on the night of my birthday this year, I am not alone. I will struggle through 28, and likely through the rest of my life. I am certain now that there will at some point in life be some sweet vindication that will prevail over all of the times that I feel down. A point that will be high enough to bring all of the lows to an average that is... well, average. I am a doer, and this I will do.

In closing, I urge anyone reading this to reach out for help when you need it. There are people out there like Ed and please feel free to contact me for Ed's number. He said that would be okay.

There you have it, another painfully real entry into my life in random thoughts and run-on sentences, and you have successfully wasted a perfectly good 10 minutes reading this.

lincoln