I've been craving it all day. It's my friend's fault. She posted an article where the best pho restaurants are located in the city and every since then, my appetite just hasn't been satisfied.
But it's late and most of the restaurants have likely shut down for the night, the workers antsy to close and escape the heat of the kitchen. There's a heatwave, with the kind of humidity that squeezes all the energy out of you. That's how I feel, sitting here on my couch in the dark - there's no air conditioner, no fan, no breeze. But I want pho. I look down at my little westie. He's panting, moving between the small area of tiled floor in front of the fireplace to his cool mat - anywhere but the carpeted floor that is retaining heat.
I contemplate going to bed, but I'm so agitated. Between wiping the beads of sweat from between my boobs and trying to calm the pho cravings, I sense the inner frustration growing. Anxiety isn't far behind. Sleep, i should sleep...but the thought of sleep only amplifies my anxiety - flashbacks of my dreams coming back to me. So I focus back on my pho cravings, because you know, that's what emotional eaters do.
I look down at my westie once more and grab my keys. "Shall we go for a car ride?"
He does the adorable westie head tilt in acknowledgement. I head for the stairs and he follows. Outside, he sniffs the air, which is only slightly cooler than inside my house. He settles himself on the concrete stoop, enjoying the feel of the coolness on his underbelly. But he's picked up on my energies and he quietly surveys the parking area, fully alert to strike out at any creature who dares to step out from behind the shadows. I love that he has my back, but tonight, I'm in no mood to stay still - I need to keep moving. I'm fully aware of my own state of alertness and I give a little tug on his leash, trying to out maneuver my anxieties. "Let's go, this way - car ride!"
The car ride is an excuse - it gets me out of the house and it's a means of distraction from sleep. Bonus points - the car also has air conditioning. I feel my eyes growing bigger and unblinking - I know I need to work fast and ground myself. Going into a manic state while driving is always one of my fears - I don't want to hurt my dog who's with me, nor anyone else. I begin to refocus. Heading to Chinatown, I scope out the restaurants, but with so many of them with similar names, I can't recall the name or the location of the exact restaurant with the best pho. I don't want to be eating a so-so pho - my taste buds are discerning and in my mind, I already know what flavours I want to taste. Plus, I've also gotten comfortable with the air conditioning and have no desire to step out of this piece of heaven.
It's too bad nobody has a drive-thru pho restaurant, I think to myself. It's one of my pet peeves going to those late-night restaurants, walking in and patrons looking at you but not looking at you, trying to guess your back story. I'm guilty, I know I do it too. I'm feeling less optimistic that I'm going to satisfy my pho cravings, but the midnight drive through the city is providing me with ample distractions. The streets are still alive - there's more than a dozen people waiting for the bus, a couple chatting and laughing on a bench, taxis and uber drivers picking up and dropping off patrons, two people on their motorized wheelchairs racing down the sidewalk. What brought them out? Where are they heading? Are they avoiding sleep too?
Now and then, at a red light, my little furry companion pops his head up from the seat to see if it's a street he recognizes or if we're near the dog park. As I press the gas, I holler, "Here we go!" He quietly settles and lulls himself to sleep to the motion of the car.
The gas gauge dips and I run through my mental catalog, trying to remember which gas station is still open past midnight on a long weekend. I'm in a mild state of hyper-vigilance, but I also don't want to push my luck - driving tired is no different than driving drunk. I recall my recent close calls when I almost caused two car accidents in the span of an hour because I was overly tired. I decide to head home, stopping in to fill up on gas and as a compromise, I pick up a burger and poutine at a drive-thru, with the promise to make myself a noodle soup the next day - a faux pho.
I also promise myself to stop avoiding sleep and to face whatever the subconscious keeps bringing out in my dreams. None of it makes sense - the scenarios and visions only make me uncomfortable, lost, and anxious. As I sit in the dark eating my burger and poutine, I try to make sense of my dreams - I'm walking through the sequences as a player within a play. The scenario are relatively the same each night - only the setting, location and players are different. Each night, I'm invited to bed by either strangers or by people I know - always male and each time, I find myself lying next to them. Nothing ever happens beyond lying next to them, but as I lie there I'm filled with anxiety, confusion, insecurity, and suspicious of their motives. I feel vulnerable, but oddly, I don't feel helpless.
The food is keeping my anxiety at bay and I continue to push on through my reflections. During a recent out-of-town work trip, an incident made me question, "when should one step up when a break-up goes bad?" Couples have the right to work things out with other people minding their own business. But where does social responsibility fit in? In particular, when it appears the break-up is escalating towards violence? The commotion I overheard in the room next to me was enough to make me fear for the woman, especially with his outbursts of "Baby, it was an accident!" and "Please baby, I can't go back to jail!" I don't trust this man, I don't appreciate his manipulations or having to endure listening to their outbursts.
That was a week ago. As I sip my cola, I wonder if she has managed to rid herself of that man. I relive the memories with various "what-if" scenarios floating by. I want to regress within myself, but I know the truth won't leave me alone until I figure things out for myself. I open myself to curiosity and begin to question the various interpretation and it dawns on me - I have invited the couple's dysfunctional relationship and energies within me. My heart is sympathetic and compassionate for the other woman, but their relationship is not my problem and I can't make choices for her or allow myself to expend my anxieties for her. I make a conscious decision to disengage. I make a mental note to continue to follow this feeling of agitation. It's not the most comfortable state to be in, but I sense there is more to be uncovered - certainly as it relates to intimacy, sex, relationships, trust and living life sans fear.
I finish the last of the burger - noting how the flavours are too synthetic for my liking. The nausea I feel is now from the poor food choice, and not my anxiety. The clock reads 3:55am and though I still have the urge to avoid sleep, my mind is appeased enough to relent it's control. I yawn and as my head hits the pillow, there is only one thought going through my mind - I still want pho.
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| Faux Pho |
