Nothing much happened to him. Just another day in the bizarre metabolism of being Flip. See him in his blockbuster hit, Rasputin.
Without knowing anything about the pill guzzle, I received an email from him in the early evening the next day. It simply asked if I could come over and keep him company for a little bit. This was a very different communication from anything else that had happened. I wondered what he wanted. Did he want me to watch him cuddle with the dog the whole time again and subject me to a dark room with cleats and big spandex booties (football my friends. Don't get excited....I had already learned not to...)
I went over and found him with the sweats and shakes and in a state of withdrawal. He put his head in my lap for awhile, crying, sweating, cold and clammy. I wasn't really sure what to say. Honestly I do have empathy. I has empathy like a boss. But if people take advantage of it, if people make a dramatic show of their tragedies to solicit empathy, I have a rough time faking it til I make it. I was probably just quiet, trying to figure out what he was doing. He'd messed around with the pill idea before, and now due to being on my insurance, he got his hands on a 120 count bottle of a failed overdose. I had no idea what to say except to just listen without judgement and not say anything to make it worse. I stuck to what "facts" were being given. Asked questions. But kept emotions out of it. Of course he had told his ex about it...but of course. Part of me says, well, is this due to more attention? Or after a few years of separation did he suddenly feel natural about her as a constant confidant? Whatever the case, this wasn't the time to vocalize it.
He didn't feel comfortable or safe showering without someone in the house so I sauna'ed in the steamy bathroom as he showered. I guess I did what anyone might do. Smoothed his hair, held him, let him cry and curse what he believes is a seven year streak of bad luck.
(I am, by the way, in Starbucks on a wonderful day that I've taken off work. The gentlemen next to me are probably in their 50s or 60s. One of them sounds like he works for a radio station. There's a song on and the DJ is singing along with it..."why don't you do right...get out of here, get me some money, too......" He says, "another one of those songs where they put down men...." and continues to sing along, wishing it were the Peggy Lee version....)
How someone can take all those pills and not die or even barf, is beyond me. I don't know what his insides are made of but it didn't seem to do much to him compared to what it should have done.
He told a number of people about it and did have to tell his own doctor because five days later he couldn't shake a pain near his liver. We spent about four hours in the ER, blood work coming back all good. (What?!) I think he is lucky that the doc on duty looked like he owned a pot farm and also knew Flip's aunt personally. He gave him that meaningful look and asked, "What was your intention in taking all of those pills?"
Flip sounded like a teenager being considered for castration. There was a jubilant admission of impulsivity and the desire to "never do that again". We had plenty of time to talk during our ER date.
I wasn't sure what to make of everything. He cited so many ingredients in his soup of pain as to why this happened. I'm sure a case of the Fuck Its. That's usually a popular one. A desire to escape from legal and financial distress. He throws in losing me.
As he hugged me, he said he didn't want to be broken up anymore. I felt like hitting a pause button. I didn't have anything to say other than "We can only do moment to moment, day to day for now." I don't even know what I mean by that. I worried, I care, but I don't believe there is anything of benefit for me in this. There is some good conversation, some exchange of meaningful information, emotion, affection. But I found that engaging again destroyed the sense of time balance that I had finally established for myself. As soon as Flip was back on stage, my reading, exercise, detailed cooking, blogging, writing in general, facebooking, was all put in the props box behind the curtain. There was a lot of phone time put in. Have I mentioned how much I hate the phone? I do. A lot. I used to make excuses to avoid it but now if I meet anyone who has no prior knowledge of me, I make sure it's a part of my name during the introduction. Make no mistake, it's not you, it's all me. Hate. Phone.
So what do I have now? He needs an outlet, he needs help, he needs uplifting. I wondered aloud (in an email) to a girlfriend....are we dramatic? Is that why we find these situations? No....we aren't dramatic. Maybe we find dramatic people in order to be helpers or to calm or ground .... the nurturer...the helper bee. And not that I want to keep score but I do have to be fair to myself - who is helping me? I'm helping me. And I have a great girlfriend or three who will listen to me. I'm pretty self-reliant. I don't have physical or financial help. I get by without it but sometimes do some mental window shopping, as if looking at diamonds. I would love to be in a mutually beneficial helping relationship. Where the balance rolls slowly back and forth but no one person always has their prints on the needy side of the scale.
So I find myself pulling into myself. Taking his calls, even calling him at times. But letting him do a little more of the reaching. When he does, he talks a lot of his problems and my life is put on Frozen while I listen to him think out loud. Sometimes it's a discussion. Sometimes when he starts forming the downhill snowball, I stop him gently and remind him to break it down task by task or else things feel overwhelming and he'll sit down in the middle of the heap, unable to move forward.
I'm not sure what my role is right now. But I can tell you that he probably thinks that I am "cool" with him using his ex as a sounding board and new bf. I'm not. I think it's bullshit the way things have gone for the last 3 years and suddenly he's going to act like this would have always been ok on either end. I know for a fact that isn't true since I have had exes contact me and it's been an issue. But fine. Talk to your ex that you need in your life. Because I'm not swatting any of my exes or guy friends away, so long as no one is doing anything wrong, right? Why should I? I don't need to answer to anyone and if he's uncomfortable with it, he can opt out. I'm not out to play the field. Sometimes I'm not even out to be up to bat even once. But I am going to live authentically.
So I don't have a boyfriend, and yet, I have a boyfriend. Moment to moment. Day by Day.
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