Alive
In January of 2015, the move finally happened. I packed up my life in Nashville, leaving behind everything I knew was holding me back. Elizabeth was worried sick about my future, as were my parents. I wanted a clean break, but they talked me into taking the car and some money. This was my second escape since Austin. I was a little more mature than the first time, just as desperate, yet a lot more faithful that somehow everything would be okay. I met with a guy from Craigslist who wanted a ride out to Arizona, and we planned to pick up someone else along the way to share gas costs.
I spent a lot of the 31 hour ride to California thinking about Elizabeth and how our lives would change once I was there. I kept Nell in the back of my mind. I was a step closer to becoming good enough to be with her. I dropped off my last passenger at the Greyhound bus station in L.A., and made my way down to Orange County through L.A. traffic. It was thrilling to realize that I was actually in another state, about to start my new life. My worst nightmare was that I would rot away at my parents’ house for the rest of my life, unable to deal with real life because of my anxieties and selective mutism. That dreadful future was already fading away, and it felt amazing.
I had a new place, a new car, and a wonderful girlfriend, whom I was going to be spending much more time with. I arrived at the house of the lady I’d spoken to online. She had a large house in a nice neighborhood, and rented out five of her rooms to mostly working males around my age, one of whom would now be me. Now I just needed a job.
For the next few weeks I applied to numerous jobs around town. I brought a resume with my recent bartending experience and some references, so I thought it would be easier than when I was living in Austin, where I had absolutely nothing to say that I even existed. It was depressing still, waiting for someone – anyone – to call me back. In the meantime, Elizabeth and I were experiencing the high of being the closest we’ve ever lived to each other. I only lived a few miles away from her house, but her parents wouldn’t let her see me too much, and so we would spend only the weekends together. I had no complaints because this was way more frequent than the once-a-year we were used to.
Finally, a telemarketing company got back to me and invited me to a round-table interview with about a dozen highly qualified people. We were each judged on how well we could read a script from a sheet of paper. My nerves crept up, but I had a lot of experience performing and ended up acing it. I got picked for a follow up training session the following week. Some people couldn’t follow through for whatever reason and only three of us, including me, were hired in the end.
I had a fancy headset in a little telemarketing booth, making three hundred cold calls per day selling Search Engine Optimization products. I tried hard to follow the script, promising small businesses that we could get them to pop up on Google whenever someone searched for what they did. But I wasn’t any good at it. In fact, I was terrible at it. In the one month that I worked there, I only made 2 sales in total. I hated feeling anxious every day about getting on the phone. After a month, the company moved to a different building and took the opportunity to get rid of dead weight. A lot of people were let go, and I was one of them.
It didn’t pay much, but I managed to save enough to tide me over until I found something else. I continued my search for a job. The uncertainty was excruciating. I lost my job and wasn’t sure I could get lucky again. My future with Elizabeth depended on my success, and I felt a lot of pressure to prove I wasn’t a complete failure to her parents. The one thing I absolutely forbid myself to do was to give up and run away again like I did after I lost my job in Austin. I had to make this work.
I spent most of the days at the library, eating fast food, and refreshing the Craigslist job page obsessively. If a company nearby posted an ad, I would immediately drive to their address and ask about the job in person. I figured my chances were greater and they’d remember me if I showed up in person to give them my resume. I didn’t mind appearing desperate because I was. However, usually the receptionist would just tell me to send them the resume by email like everyone else.
Three weeks later I got a call about a job from a temp agency. It was data entry. I wouldn’t have to talk very much. I felt elated and was determined to focus on keeping my job this time. I wouldn’t try to make friends. I would just focus on being the most efficient worker they’d ever seen so that they wouldn’t want to fire me.
I arrived at the building on the first day a little lost, but hopeful. The job was on the fifth floor, and I got to ride in a pristine elevator to get there. I met with my new boss, who filled me in that the company dealt with auto loans as he walked me through the office. There was a kitchen, desks with computers, and everyone was friendly. This was heaven.
He had me organizing papers and cleaning out drawers by myself. It was mind-blowingly easy work, and I couldn’t believe they were going to pay me for this. The standards were low, and I began to thrive here. Three months later they hired me from temp to a real position.
While I was doing that, Elizabeth was dealing with grad school and two jobs. She was busy a lot of the time. Somehow we shared many happy times together, but she felt how much her parents hated me. Every time she would leave their house to come see me, they would become cold towards her and express their hate for me. They didn’t want to talk to me or have anything to do with me, and frankly the sentiment was mutual. Her parents were paying for her education and threatened to cut her off if she saw me too much. It was her education or me. And she took on this burden as long as she could.
The animosity began to wear on her and on our relationship, and often our time would be spent with her in tears. One day she said she wanted to break up with me. I told her to give it a little more time, but as the words left her mouth I’d already disengaged emotionally. For a long time I pushed back my feelings for Nell. I told Elizabeth that I’d gotten over her and denied myself from thinking about her. However, the feelings were always bubbling underneath, and they kept me from completely investing my mind and heart in my relationship with Elizabeth.
As the doubt about our futures grew, it became harder for me to keep a lid on on my obsession with Nell. I broke down one night and wrote in my journal for the first time in almost four years (since Elizabeth and I started dating), directly addressing her.
July 2, 2015
I still think about you almost every day. Why? I don’t know why.
Are you even real? Thinking about you is the only time I can feel sadness.
Why am I here? Why am I doing all the things I’m doing? Is it because of you? If you didn’t exist, would I not exist? If you didn’t exist to me, why would I care about any of the things I do? Is that the reason I hold on to you, after all this time? So that I’ll have a reason to exist?
I won’t cry. I decided a long time ago that it wouldn’t help. I thought that if I kept living, if I waited long enough, you would just fade away. My brain won’t let go. I’d say my heart won’t let go, but I don’t believe in that.