Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Tuesday, August 14, 2001

3 PM. I’ve been stressed out, so I think I’m going to start taking Klonopin at night again. It’s true that without taking it last night, I fell asleep at 8 PM – but I woke up at 2 AM.

The high quality sleep I got for six hours (in the final dream, I was living on Church Avenue in Brooklyn near Utica Avenue, where I lived as a young child, and I was about to be mentored by John Irving) didn’t make up for the fact that I had to lie on my mattress for hours in the darkness.

After buying stuff at Walmart and Safeway this morning, I felt shaky when I got home. At first I thought it was hunger, but that’s what I used to think last fall before realizing the problem with stress. So it’s back on Klonopin for a while.

One of the stressors on me is being a student at ASU for the fall. Yesterday I got the material for the Stress Management class from the Web, and while I see that it’s good stuff, I also realized that three graduate courses will be a lot of work.

Today I drove all the way to ASU West in Glendale to buy the Stress Management text, but the workbook wasn’t in their bookstore yet (and it’s not at the main campus because it’s given as an ASU West class).

So I’ll have to go back there next week. I already have the excellent audio tape, Letting Go of Stress; in fact, I used it early this morning.

I also learned that I’ll have to go to ASU in Tempe to pick up my financial aid check, and when I called to find out it wouldn’t be direct-deposited, I was reminded that my financial aid probation will lead to suspension if I don’t successfully take nine credits this semester.

Now I’m wondering if the money is worth it. Perhaps I should just withdraw for the term, forgo the money, and not have to worry about the classes while I’m in Arkansas or afterwards.

On the other hand, in the past I’ve gotten a financial aid check and then dropped all my courses. I did that for one semester each at the University of Miami and at FAU, and it didn’t bother me then.

Indeed, I dealt with bankruptcy so much better eleven years ago in the fall of 1990, when I actually got on CNN and in the New York Times with my purported Pauper magazine.

It now looks as if people have been far more optimistic than warranted that the economy, the stock market and the high tech sector in particular – will quickly recover.

Paul Krugman’s column in today’s Times suggests undue optimism will make this downturn longer. As of now, we’re not in a recession even though many of the signs are there. Diane Rehm’s show today was about corporate layoffs, which are announced daily by various companies.

If I’m going to file for bankruptcy, a lot of other people will be hurting financially, just as in the winter of 1991. So why can’t I recapture the attitude in which I faced the last credit card, induced bankruptcy? It’s clear that the situation is no different now; it’s just my attitude that’s changed for the worse.

Anyway, will it matter if I end up with six or three or no credits at ASU this term? It will be a good thing not to have yet another student loan and more debt that I can’t wipe out in bankruptcy.

Besides I’m not supposed to be a student and collecting unemployment at the same time – yes, I know I also didn’t worry about that my first year of law school in 1991 – and I shouldn’t be taking more than three credits while I’m applying for an Arizona Arts Fellowship.

By the way, I didn’t even make the waiting list at Djerassi for next summer. The other rejection that came in today’s mail was for a Citibank (Citigroup) Fortunoff’s credit card.

I think that once I file for bankruptcy, I’ll feel a sense of relief just as I did in 1990 when I got off my cash advance merry-go-round – though I can play this game longer now, and I probably should because I still have so much unused credit.

As for ASU, if I don’t get my computer back in time, I’ll be unable to take the online courses even if I can get connections to the Web at the Eureka Springs public library or internet cafés in town.

I did call the airport shuttle to take me to Dairy Hollow from Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport a week from Friday night. Dad says he will drive me to Sky Harbor at 6 AM that day.

If I could forget about ASU – just pick up the money and run next week – I might be much less stressed. But I guess I feel guilty about student loans and credit cards now when I didn’t in the past.

Why? It’s probably not out of any increased moral sensibility, but because I now have less self-esteem: Instead of feeling as though I’m cleverly scamming and getting what’s coming to me, I now feel I’m undeserving and dishonest.

Why can’t I justify my behavior anymore? It’s not as if I think I’m not a decent person – but maybe it is.

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Wednesday, August 15, 2000

6 PM. Last evening I read and watched Big Brother 2. David Kirby’s son Will is probably the most manipulative person in the house, but he’s popular because of that. He’s a doctor and very shrewd; he sees he can make himself a celebrity through the show.

I fell asleep at 9:30 PM and woke up at about 4:30 AM, sleeping well, again dreaming about living in a Brooklyn apartment. In last night’s dream, I was in Williamsburg.

Which reminds me: Pam supposed to move into the house on Conselyea Street today. I haven’t heard from Teresa in a while, but I know that Deirdre and Stephanie are visiting.

I made an appointment with the podiatrist, but I think my foot problem stem from my increased sweating, which has loosened the cover of the orthotics.

This morning I got really nervous as I started obsessing about bankruptcy.

I took .25 mg. of Klonopin and a double dose of Triavil this morning. It started kicking in while I was reading the paper at Borders, but my mood darkened and my stress level skyrocketed when I went next door to CompUSA.

My laptop hasn’t even been sent out to Compaq yet because the company sent them the wrong size box to ship it there. Both the manufacturer and the store suck.

So I went next door to Staples, and for $79 I bought an electronic typewriter. Then, after eating at Wendy’s, I went to the Mail Boxes Etc. on Alma School and Main, where I shipped the typewriter to myself at Dairy Hollow. This was the easiest solution I could think of.

My biggest mistake was getting rid of my old Toshiba laptop when I moved, but what’s done is done.

I will have to scan or retype whatever I write into a computer, but as I told Sat Darshan, it’s not as if I didn’t write and publish books on the typewriter.

At least I’ll have my words on paper. And without online access, I’ll be spared the distractions of the Internet.

Speaking of distractions: Today, after a lot of soul-searching, I decided to withdraw from ASU, not take any fall semester classes and forgo the student loan money.

The downside is that I will have to pay off my student loan sooner – though I can avoid that for a while – and the big problem is that I won’t have student health insurance.

But I would have just ended up owing more loan money, and the online courses would have stressed me out in Eureka Springs. Now I won’t have that intrusion.

So I withdrew from ASU over the phone and then went to OfficeMax on Apache Trail and faxed the letter forgoing my loan check to Student Financial Services.

Next door at Bank of America, I deposited $2500 in cash advance checks to my checking account to make up for the money I’ll need to make bill payments in September.

Of course I’m only making my payments that much higher – but that’s the way the credit card chassis plays out.

I’ll have to get cash advances of maybe $1200 or more before I leave. Once I get back here, I’ll figure out if I need to see a bankruptcy lawyer right away. My feeling is that I’d rather do it sooner than later, but we’ll see.

Meanwhile, the best bet is to try thought-stopping when I come across my obsessive thoughts and worrying. At least the stress management handbook will come in handy for me; it’s not a waste that I bought it.

Speaking of wastes, when I foolishly asked Mom for advice, she brought up how I owed money on my loan from law school, saying, “What a waste that was.”

Of course, she conveniently forgot about my jobs as a CGR staff attorney and an NSU legal studies professor.

I’ve got to remember that Mom is an old foolish woman. She and Dad are basically the same age Grandma Ethel and Grandpa Herb were when I lived in Rockaway, and they are just as out of it.

A little while ago, Mom was saying how horrible the Internet is after she saw some stupid report of online predators luring teens to sexual meetings.

Mom is just too ignorant for me to take seriously. As Marc has often said, our parents are clueless.

I should not be living here. That’s my own fault.

Anyway, I don’t have to think about ASU anymore. I won’t be a teacher or a grad student there.

I do have to come back to Arizona and figure out how to, as I told Rick, “pick up the pieces of my life,” but I’m postponing that for the month and a half when I’ll be at Dairy Hollow.

Is that foolish? Perhaps, but my instincts tell me I need to go to Eureka Springs, that it will be a good experience.

At least I know that I won’t be replaying last September, the month that set the stage for my breakdown at the end of October.

I do worry that I’ll have anxiety in Arkansas – that sounds like a title – but I have travel and Klonopin and stress management techniques, and I hope I’ll feel more part of a community at the colony, if not in the town.

I’ve gotten a lot of responses to my Yahoo personals ad, but so far no one in Eureka Springs has replied and I expect nothing to come of any of these contacts, even the few who sound nice.

Anyway, I just had an Amy’s Non-Dairy Bean & Rice Burrito for dinner, and I’m feeling kind of relaxed.

Even during the worst days last fall and winter, I tended to feel best in the early evenings.

Depression, of course, is worse than the morning and tends to lift by evening, so maybe I am clinically depressed. Remember how Grandma Ethel would perk up around 5 PM or 6 PM?

But I’m not at the mercy of my neurons, especially since I’ve got Triavil. Maybe I should begin to rate my moods daily the way I did for Susan last winter and spring. And I could write down how I dispute my worries and the probability of catastrophes occurring.

I’ll be okay. I’m not sweating right now. I’ll make sure my anxiety levels don’t become too high by using my meds and stress reduction techniques.

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Monday, August 20, 2001

8:30 PM. Last night I watched the final two episode of Six Feet Under on HBO from 9 PM to 11 PM. It was a terrific series, and the last episodes were great.

The show deals with gay characters in a matter-of-fact but fairly profound way as it shows a conflicted character dealing with his religious beliefs while depicting passionate sex scenes that are too graphic for broadcast TV.

As usual, I got up long before 5 AM, so I didn’t get much sleep, perhaps five hours.

Still, I wasn’t all that tired today. And while I did have lie-on-my-mattress anxiety related to the credit cards and bankruptcy and the uncertainty of my job situation, it passed.

I’ve been taking .5 mg. of Klonopin at night and .25 mg. in the morning. Right now my palms are sweaty, just as they were this morning, but I remember Susan saying I might have to live with the diaphoresis for quite a while.

Still, it disappeared while I was away from Arizona, and perhaps in Arkansas it will subside as well.

I sent another package out to myself there, along with an Amazon.com Advantage order I got for single copies of Eating at Arby’s and The Greatest Short Story That Absolutely Ever Was.

This morning I didn’t leave the house till 9:30 AM. I wanted to call Teresa because I hadn’t heard from her in a couple of weeks. She said she thought she emailed me about the birth of Paul’s granddaughter, who weighed over eight pounds.

Paul’s ex-wife is staying at Cat’s house, but while Teresa hasn’t gone over there, she encourages Paul to play grandpa and go there all the time – partially, she says, to spite his ex-wife, who will go home to Vermont and realize that Paul will get to see their granddaughter all the time while she is away. That’s how Teresa thinks.

Because her Fire Island house is still rented, she was at the other house with Diane and Michelle. (I called on her cell phone.)

This weekend she and Paul are going to that Corvette event in Pennsylvania with Barbara and John, and Suzanne is ready to start the business that Teresa hopes will make her some money as well.

Pam passed her Nassau Community College courses, so she’ll get the credits she needed, and she should be moving to Brooklyn any day now. Teresa really doesn’t want Pam to go and says she’ll miss her a great deal. I can imagine.

The couple who once had bid on Teresa and Paul’s house said they’re interested again after they decided not to move to Florida or Arizona. But by now, Paul, having enjoyed the pool so much this summer, doesn’t want to sell, so their asking price is now $640,000.

Teresa says that Jade “hasn’t done anything” about moving out, and it doesn’t seem as though to she or Paul are pushing her to go. After all, Long Island is very expensive for someone just out of college.

This morning I felt a twinge knowing that ASU and the community colleges begin their academic years today and I won’t be a part of it.

Anyway, I went to The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Power Road for iced tea and then to the Wendy’s by Superstition Springs.

I finished today’s paper by the time I got home from the post office, and I spent the afternoon in Marc’s room.

I told Frank – the one guy in Eureka Springs who answered my Yahoo ad – that I’d call him when I get settled in town.

I got some more replies to my ad from nice guys, but they’re in different parts of Arkansas or southwestern Missouri and there’s no point in even an online relationship since I won’t have regular Internet access.

Besides, emails never lead anywhere. I don’t expect to find a guy I really like in Arkansas. Meeting people in person beats virtual reality any day.

Sat Darshan sent the note saying that she was getting disgusted with her life. The heavy workload at her job is taking its toll on her, and she was so lonely that she cried yesterday.

I can only surmise that while her relationship with Ravinder isn’t the greatest, she probably still would like him to be around more.

With Gurujot away at college, Sat Darshan says she has empty nest syndrome – even if Gurudaya is around the corner while at the same time she is almost a single parent dealing with Kiran.

Sat Darshan’s father died not so long ago, and now she has virtually no relationship with her sister.

As troublesome as Nirankar and Trevor could be, when they were there, there were people around that she could count on.

Sat Darshan says her only friends are me and Sat Kaur and maybe the books she reads.

I told her that one day I might move into her neighborhood, but then she said that when Ravinder is there, he gets jealous when her male friends – which must mean me – come to visit.

 I feel a bit guilty that I’m one more person “abandoning” Sat Darshan.

In our house, a quiet evening turned bad. Dad and Jonathan or an hour into watching Pollack, the Jackson Pollock film biography, and I was eating dinner and glancing at the movie when Mom said to me, “Did his wife have something the matter with her?”

Annoyed, I stupidly said, “Ma, just leave me alone,” and she immediately left the room, slamming her door.

I apologized right away, but she said, “I don’t accept your apology” even after I went to Fry’s and bought her a carnation and a card in which I again said that I was sorry.

She just doesn’t soften. I guess her anger had to do with more than just me. I can understand how she feels: Mom cooks and cleans and does laundry, and nobody gives her any credit.

On the other hand, if she had a life outside this house, if she had just one friend or relative she could complain to the way Sat Darshan and I or my other friends confide in one another, she have something else to base her self-worth on.

As terrified as I am about both my future and the immediate trip to Arkansas, I know I’m getting out of what is sometimes – okay, often – an unhealthy family situation.

Both Mom and Dad are unhappy, but neither has a life outside the family. And neither does Jonathan.

By the time I got back from Fry’s, Marc was home, but he went straight to his room; he’s so uncommunicative that God knows what’s happening with him.

This is a house where no one communicates with one another. The TVs are always on, Dad’s buried in a book, and Mom’s busy with household chores. It’s pathetic, and I’m a part of it.

Marc goes to Flagstaff, Las Vegas and South Florida when he can, but my parents and Jonathan do not go anywhere.

At least I can go away to Dairy Hollow for five weeks, just as I could get away for most of June and July.