Gonna Hang on a Little Bit Longer, Sleep Well, Work a Little Harder, Put My Faith in Somethin’ I Can’t See
Let me just start with I’m not a danger to myself or others. My mind is not my friend today. Not gonna lie, folks, I think I've let my anxiety and depression get the best of me. It’s rare for me to feel this terribly. I think it was last year about this time last it happened. I'm not sleeping, I'm not really eating. My shoulder is killing me. I think it’s rotator cuff by the way it hurts when I try to sleep. I think I'm living on caffeine, alcohol, the gym, and a stack of books. Books have saved me. They have done so many times.
I’m headed to my sister’s house tonight. I dread it and I feel guilty for dreading it. She needs me. The kids need me. My sister is living in this unimaginable to me level of pain and it hurts me to watch. I’m just exhausted. And it will be at least two more days of 5am-9pm balls to the wall. My patience gets short. And I hate myself for that. I just can’t stretch the spoons.
My niece likes art. They did landscapes last week. I'm going to pack up the easel, paints, several canvases, brushed and all the other supplies and take them over. I think I'll show her how to paint one of the Milky Way paintings to give to her mom. The shake in my hands won't fuck that up. And that is a statement because I'm pretty sure I could fuck up anything right now. They are so kind about my art. I think a lot of folks are more kind about it than they should be. I feel like a good writer and and a fine painter and I have only just stopped feeling that the writing part is just people trying to encourage the sad woman. I'm sure that girl in whom I see myself at her age every time she shifts her eyes will lift me right up and we'll be laughing in no time.
In my therapy session today, I completely forgot what I did for about 24 hours over the weekend. I could not recall. It was after the hike Saturday and after that goddamn dream. My therapist saw my head about to implode and told me it was okay. I need someone to tell me I’m okay every five minutes for at least the next two weeks. Just remind me. Because I do not feel okay. I keep forgetting words I know and sometimes realizing that I can't figure out which they're/there/their is correct. It scares me to death. That loss of mental acuity. It scares me that I'm slipping in the one area that I feel good about.
Just add that to the constant nagging pain in my shoulder and knee, the stupid season change, this emotional trainwreck I have made for myself, not eating and not sleeping and drinking much more often than I should (I have a three drink limit, but that does not really make me feel any better), being stretched way past breaking at work, at home, with my sister, with money, and what feels like a lack of enough support, despite some of the best humans I could ever ask for in my life, some gossipy bullshit that makes me feel gross, basically crying constantly, and the guilt that comes with being completely self-absorbed and not wanting to bother people anymore.
I guess the good news is that I look magnificent. The hole always looks good on the women in my family. Armor, I guess. Had to buy new belts. I told my family years ago not to mention my weight or size or anything else to me because I know. So now they just talk about it behind my back. I would rather someone spit words in my face than to gossip or veil shit, like they think they're doing me a favor. Speak clearly to me. And if I ask questions it's because I'm trying to understand. And I'm really just not too sharp right now.
I guess that's really all. You'll probably not see too much of me on social media for a little while. I'm fine. I just want to not be observed for a while. It's kind of exhibitionist of me writing like I am these days and not everyone uses that for good. Don't worry, I have my books and my paints and my cats and my sister and those sweet babies and my own sweet baby when he's not too busy for his mama. And I'm around. Just shoot me a text. I'll probably even answer most of the phone calls. If you don't have my number, plenty of folks do. This is a season. It will go.
I’m headed to my sister’s house tonight. I dread it and I feel guilty for dreading it. She needs me. The kids need me. My sister is living in this unimaginable to me level of pain and it hurts me to watch. I’m just exhausted. And it will be at least two more days of 5am-9pm balls to the wall. My patience gets short. And I hate myself for that. I just can’t stretch the spoons.
My niece likes art. They did landscapes last week. I'm going to pack up the easel, paints, several canvases, brushed and all the other supplies and take them over. I think I'll show her how to paint one of the Milky Way paintings to give to her mom. The shake in my hands won't fuck that up. And that is a statement because I'm pretty sure I could fuck up anything right now. They are so kind about my art. I think a lot of folks are more kind about it than they should be. I feel like a good writer and and a fine painter and I have only just stopped feeling that the writing part is just people trying to encourage the sad woman. I'm sure that girl in whom I see myself at her age every time she shifts her eyes will lift me right up and we'll be laughing in no time.
In my therapy session today, I completely forgot what I did for about 24 hours over the weekend. I could not recall. It was after the hike Saturday and after that goddamn dream. My therapist saw my head about to implode and told me it was okay. I need someone to tell me I’m okay every five minutes for at least the next two weeks. Just remind me. Because I do not feel okay. I keep forgetting words I know and sometimes realizing that I can't figure out which they're/there/their is correct. It scares me to death. That loss of mental acuity. It scares me that I'm slipping in the one area that I feel good about.
Just add that to the constant nagging pain in my shoulder and knee, the stupid season change, this emotional trainwreck I have made for myself, not eating and not sleeping and drinking much more often than I should (I have a three drink limit, but that does not really make me feel any better), being stretched way past breaking at work, at home, with my sister, with money, and what feels like a lack of enough support, despite some of the best humans I could ever ask for in my life, some gossipy bullshit that makes me feel gross, basically crying constantly, and the guilt that comes with being completely self-absorbed and not wanting to bother people anymore.
I guess the good news is that I look magnificent. The hole always looks good on the women in my family. Armor, I guess. Had to buy new belts. I told my family years ago not to mention my weight or size or anything else to me because I know. So now they just talk about it behind my back. I would rather someone spit words in my face than to gossip or veil shit, like they think they're doing me a favor. Speak clearly to me. And if I ask questions it's because I'm trying to understand. And I'm really just not too sharp right now.
I guess that's really all. You'll probably not see too much of me on social media for a little while. I'm fine. I just want to not be observed for a while. It's kind of exhibitionist of me writing like I am these days and not everyone uses that for good. Don't worry, I have my books and my paints and my cats and my sister and those sweet babies and my own sweet baby when he's not too busy for his mama. And I'm around. Just shoot me a text. I'll probably even answer most of the phone calls. If you don't have my number, plenty of folks do. This is a season. It will go.
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