Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 7 of 12)

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July 19

July 19

Despite going to bed still feeling sick and sweating through the night, I felt a lot better this morning. I still couldn’t drag my ass out of bed before 7 a.m., but I think the overnight perspiration helped to release some of the garbage that is likely still flowing through my body. Mind you, I drench my shirt in sweat to and from work every day. Perhaps there’s just a backlog of toxins that need to be released.

After breakfast at the Witch Cave, I got to work for 9 a.m. Right from the start, I was given a ton of work to do, which I actually really appreciated. Look. I don’t exactly enjoy sitting around and waiting for tasks to be assigned. Give me a list of stuff to do, I’ll do it, and then I’ll go home. I’m tired of watching the seconds on the computer pass by, and there’s only so much Twitter I can scroll through before my eyes start to hurt. Eyes, and brain. It’s depressing learning about what’s going on in the world. Speaking of which, I think I’m ready to stop taking my anti-depressant. I took it this morning, but I really want to try and get off the stuff. I’m going to skip tomorrow’s dose.

So, yeah. I had a lot of work to do today, which took me a couple of hours to get through. Before I knew it, the day was half over. Yes!

Robyn had to go to a meeting this afternoon, and gave me some more jobs before she left. I was really only half-listening to what she asked me to do. When someone talks as much as Robyn does, there’s no way you can listen to everything they say. I try to pick out the important stuff and nod like I’m taking it all in. In reality, I’m just covering up the Twitter porn I’m looking at on my computer.

Robyn went to her meeting. I finished writing a newsletter email, and then started making my debt collector calls and sending emails to rogue members. Sure enough, because Robyn makes me copy her on everything I send out, I received a frantic email from Robyn, telling me to immediately stop contacting members for money. Apparently, that was Robyn’s job. The only problem was that I saw Robyn’s message after I had called and emailed every member on her list. Whoopsie! But, I got the job done. What’s the big fucking problem?

Robyn returned to our shoebox office around 4:45 p.m. I wouldn’t say she was “mad” per se, but she was still freaking out and panicking over everything I had done – as if I had just assassinated the President. Robyn kept saying things like, “I never should have given you that list,” and, “We’re going to need to rethink the way we handle these situations,” all while running around our office like a mad woman trying to gather her things and send apology emails to members – as if they even fucking cared.

This is what I’ve been talking about all along. I’ve been working at The Clubhouse for two fucking months now, and I still can’t even send a simple email or make a motherfucking phone call to do my job without having my boss hold my hand. This is why Robyn’s desk is a mess. This is why Robyn has 17,000 fucking unread emails in her inbox. The way I handled things today was an effort in providing a more personal level of service for the member, and also a more efficient way of working in the office.

Robyn and I both left The Clubhouse at 5 p.m., with me staying a few minutes longer to collect my extra quarter-hour of pay. It will be interesting to hear what Robyn has to say tomorrow. That was fucking bullshit.

It was Phillip’s birthday today. As a last-minute plan, the family went to Big Chick for dinner this evening. Hmm, maybe that’s what I should call Robyn from now on. “Big Chick.” Or, “Nellie.” As in, the horse. The woman has more bird and horse photos on her desk than I ever knew existed. They’re on Robyn’s calendar, her bulletin board, and even her desktop background. Wait a minute. That’s it! From now on, Robyn Wren will be referred to solely as, “Big Bird.” Oh, my God. That’s friggin’ genius!

Now, these birthday dinner plans for Phillip didn’t initially exist. I had planned on relaxing in the park after work with my self-help book – If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Happy? – but instead I walked home, dropped off my stuff, and then took transit to Big Chick to meet the family. Naturally, they were all late. I sat at the restaurant alone for 45 minutes while I waited for Mom, Dad, and Phillip to arrive. I ordered garlic bread and a pitcher of margaritas for myself, and got decently drunk.

Eventually, the crew showed up. We talked, had lots of fun, and there was no mention of Lauryn or PW. Things were good. Since everyone’s birthdays are in the same week, I gave them their presents all at once. As with last year, I’m taking them to a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game next month. After that, things went downhill. Of course they did!

“Who’s all going to the park tonight?” Mom randomly asked Phillip from across the table.

As soon as Mom said that, I knew Phillip’s stomach had probably just given out. I would have bet money that the kid was now sitting in pants full of diarrhea. I knew exactly what had happened. Phillip fucking snubbed me. My brother made plans for his birthday, and purposely left me out of the loop. Phillip told Mom that he had sent messages to his friends, and that they would all be going to Trinity Bellwoods Park after our family dinner.

Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out. I can’t remember a thing. I honestly don’t know how I responded to Phillip’s news, but I’m sure the look on my face let him know that I was pissed.

“You can come, too,” Phillip offered, half-assed.

“Right,” I scoffed.

“Well, I just didn’t know how things were with...you know,” Phillip responded.

At first, I thought Phillip was talking about Lauryn. It then quickly dawned on me that Phillip was referring to PW. As in, Phillip didn’t want to invite his own brother to his birthday gathering, because it was going to make his friend uncomfortable. Mom thought Phillip was talking about Lauryn, too.

“Why would Lauryn affect Kurt being at the park?” Mom asked Phillip.

“It wouldn’t,” I interjected. “Phillip is talking about a certain someone else.”

Even Mom was surprised that something like my short-lived relationship with PW would be an issue.

I felt sick again. Like a couple of weekends ago at Casa Z when I had that blowout with Phillip. I couldn’t think. I needed to remove myself from the table. I excused myself, and said I was going to the bathroom. This was for two reasons:

I thought I was actually going to cry.

I knew it would give Mom time to ream Phillip out for excluding me.

I managed to keep it together. However, I was relatively quiet for the remainder of our dinner. I didn’t say anything to Phillip for the rest of the evening. I didn’t even look at him. I had conversations with Mom and Dad, but it was a question and answer thing. The problem in my family is that when I stop talking, everyone knows something is wrong. Without me, the conversation dies off pretty quickly and then we’re all left sitting in silence until someone asks me a question in hopes of sparking up a new dialogue.

We left the restaurant. Phillip and I were walking towards the car together in front of Mom and Dad. I had a feeling Mom was holding Dad back with her so that Phillip and I could talk privately. Obviously, Phillip knew he had fucked up. He apologized immediately, and that’s when I let him have it.

“I don’t want your pity invite,” I said. “I don’t appreciate being an afterthought.”

Phillip then changed his story, saying that it was actually his friends who were organizing a small thing on his behalf. Fucking liar.

“I want you to come,” Phillip offered again.

“I know that’s not true,” I responded. “You purposely excluded me, and you made that clear in the restaurant when you said that you didn’t know how I was going to be around PW.”

We arrived at the car in silence.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Phillip asked.

“You made me feel really shitty,” I said.

Mom and Dad drove me to my apartment. I wished Phillip a happy birthday, got out of the car, and went upstairs. I spent the next 30 minutes sitting on my bed, bawling my eyes out.

I know all of this seems very dramatic. It is. But, Phillip and I just went through a huge discussion not even two weeks ago about how I wanted to be included in his life. Now, he had snubbed me on his birthday because his friend doesn’t like me.

I feel so under-appreciated again. Why is this such a recurring feeling? It’s such a trigger for me. It makes me feel like absolute garbage. I can’t even get my own brother to find value in a friendship with me. If I can’t do that, how can I find it with someone romantically? I was nothing but nice to PW at Phillip’s party, despite him completely ignoring me – after he dumped me. Now, I’m the one that’s being punished? It’s not fair.

The following text exchange happened soon after I finished losing eight pounds of water weight from crying:

Phillip: “I feel like shit. I’m sorry I said that. I don’t know what to think of this situation though, because PW told me everything was fine at the party. Tommy also told me that he was talking to PW at the party and he said he was worried it would be awkward at first, but it was really chill. So, I don’t know WTF to say. If it was awkward for you at the party, why is it so awful that I’d be worried that it’d awkward again? And in such a small group, too. I regret what I said. I’m sorry, but this is weird for me. I don’t want to feel like I’m in the middle of something. And in response to what you texted earlier, I told you both multiple times it was fine with me.”

Kurt: “Over the course of twelve hours at your party, all PW said to me was, “Hello.” And that was only because I approached him and asked him how he was. After that, PW continued to avoid me all day, even going so far as to look into a room, see me, turn around, and leave. PW never said another single word to me. I don’t know what he’s telling you or other people, but a number of your girlfriends had mentioned to me – without me bringing it up – that he was acting strange around me. I didn’t want to make it into anything. I wanted to ignore it for the sake of normalcy, but they brought it up. So, I know it’s not in my head. I have no problem with PW and his decision to stop seeing me. I have been nothing but nice to him since then, and I have never made it an issue. I think he is a very nice person, and I still do. But I refuse to let you, or PW, make me feel less than – and that’s what you did to me tonight. Why does it hurt? Because you made me feel like absolute shit, to the point where I went home and cried. Things don’t work out. That’s fine. It sucks at first, but I am an adult and I can handle rejection. It’s not the first time for me, and it probably won’t be the last. But I sure as fuck don’t want a pity invite from you. I will not be an afterthought. Don’t pretend for one second that you would have invited me if it wasn’t brought up at dinner. You’re my fucking brother, and to completely disregard me on your birthday after I told you I wanted to try and be a part of your life is incredibly hurtful. I’ve done nothing but go out of my way in an attempt to be amicable with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me. Instead of trying to carry on with things, you excluded me from your life – once again.”

Phillip: “I didn’t know it was a thing to invite you to every little thing I do. As far as I’m concerned, my birthday has been celebrated already and you were there. Tonight is nothing special and doesn’t mean you’re not going to be invited to things in the future.”

Kurt: “Happy Birthday, Phillip.”

Phillip: “I’m tired of feeling guilty for fucking everything. I really shouldn’t have to be doing this right now. I don’t even want to do anything tonight at this point. You can’t just expect everything all at once.”

Phillip didn’t even fucking read what I wrote. He always does this. Phillip will pick what he wants to respond to, which is usually the easiest, and completely disregard my feelings on everything else. That’s why I didn’t engage with him more after his last message. Why bother? I said everything I had to say in a very honest and well-written note. I slammed him for being a complete asshole to me – his brother – for a situation in which I have clearly been the bigger person.

You know what? Fuck them. Fuck all of them. I don’t fucking need them. I don’t need fucking anybody. As far as I am concerned, at this point I have less than five friends that I could call on at any given time to have my back – and even that’s pushing it.

Nobody gives a fuck about me. I give so much to so many people, and then shit like this happens. I want to disappear. Maybe then people will learn to appreciate me. I have nothing else to say to Phillip, nothing else to say to PW, and right now I don’t care if I’m ever included in another one of Phillip’s events again.

I worked out for a while on my floor, listening to music, talking with Lauryn, and reading – but not really responding – to her texts about Phillip. It seems as though Phillip did the same thing to Lauryn’s apology as he just did to me – picking what he wanted to acknowledge, and then being condescending with a lecture-style response. Lauryn’s message to Phillip was a lot calmer than mine. But, I had a major point to get across. Even with multiple fucking facts, Phillip still didn’t acknowledge the problem.

I’m done. I’m fucking done with it. I’m going to masturbate this frustration away, and maybe tomorrow I can actually sit in the park – alone – and read my book. Although, given my rate of rejection these days, I hope a fucking tree branch doesn’t fall on me and kill me. Maybe I’ll get pelted with acorns by a scurry of squirrels, or have my shit stolen by a raccoon. Who knows! Whoopie!

Goodnight xo

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