Sunday, October 14, 2018
Until something happens. Which did. Happen.
I feel bad. I’m staring at a blank wall, but only realize it after the fact.
I scroll through a bunch of adjectives in my mind. I cross out all of them. Finally, I find my words. This is despair.
I’m in one hour at a time mode. One thing I like about me is how easy I slip in and out of that.
I’m not at full throttle. Really what I want to do is to continue staring.
I review what I planned to do today. I’m overdue for a winter coat. My state of mind is not conducive to walking over to the River Plaza and shopping for fashionable, practical bargains.
The thing that crushed my soul hasn’t gone anywhere. But winter isn’t going anywhere either. Last year’s coat, which served me for many seasons has already gone to fabric recycling.
I have just enough bandwidth to anticipate how I will feel out in the elements underdressed. It won’t be pretty. I’ll be freezing and also angry. Frangry.
So I go. I tell myself that despair and grief are portable. I don’t have to deny them. I can take them with me.
They are pretty easy to manage on the walk to the River Plaza. As companions they’re almost quiet at Marshall’s. They allow me me choose a greenish, shimmery, warm as can be winter parka with fake fur around the hood and collar. I also get a dusty rose hat with a giant pompom that has just enough bling to be fun.
I wait on a long line that moves quickly. I am able to negotiate with myself in the usual fashion. Yes this line is long. Would I rather pay retail? Which would be no, so I go on Facebook and chill out while inching along.
I then take my despair to Target, where it’s mostly okay until such a time when it does make itself a major nuisance. I sit on the edge of a shelf in a slow part of the store that nobody cares about.
It lifts enough for me to shop quickly, get in line and go home, model my new outerwear and do some other stuff that can accommodate what is a burden but is mostly behaving itself.
Until such a time that I’ve had it for that day. I watch the movie Joy for the millionth time, which is what I do when there’s nothing else to be done.
I go to sleep and in the morning I evaluate the situation, carry what I can, heavy or not, to what I can do and where I can go alongside it. I leave the rest for another day when I have a lighter load or a bigger suitcase.
From the archives:
I walked to the end of the driveway
The very second you lost me
My Future Crappy Work
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Somebody said people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
And my response is this.
Fuck the reason. Fuck the season. Yes to the lifetime.
If I care about you, I really want you to stay. If I love you, I demand it.
The reason and season, do not inspire quietude, deep thought, peace, or introspection. They do not evoke acceptance. When I hear about them I’m stinking mad.
If you like it, I’m happy for you. And also, fuck you!
The entity responsible for the reason and the season is an asshole.
I’m saturated with carrying people in my heart, eliciting memories, making memories because you know that time is limited, and you know that you’re doing that. I’ve found enough meaning in loss to last a lifetime, and now I’m done.
Making the best of it? No can do.
Stop dying! Stop retiring! Stop leaving!
People come into your life for a lifetime. How about that? Is that too much to ask?
From the archives:
I answered my own question
All of the roads, they did lead here
The High Cost Of Being Me