Yesterday I finished my blog, stood up…and felt like I was hit by a passing train. I don’t know if it was a panic attack or what, but my stomach got SO gassy (how gassy WAS it?) I burped up huge Ren and Stimpy belches for the next 3-4 hours. Complete tightness in my body. Just uneasy and anxious about everything. So on the heels of my light and happy blog ending yesterday, I had an ugly and challenging day just to calm myself down. Bloody well hate when that happens.
Do a little bit for someone else and see what happens. I was set to tackle my three semi daunting tasks, despite the fact I continued to burp up miscellaneous bones and old wrenches every five minutes. Then my brother got up and we talked. He was quick to offer to take my metro card downtown to get it filled up. Quick to say he was running for more smoke. Quick to tell me not to call Addiction Central on a Friday, wait til next week. If he could have, he would have offered to go and get HIS blood drawn in my place. I guess he appreciates the few things I’ve done lately. So out of my three daunting tasks, I had only one left to sort out. That ended up a bust because there was no-o-o-o-o-o-o one in that hospital other than patients and people visiting patients. But I got out for some fresh air.
Then there was my afternoon email chat with Blah. She was down. Real down. I finally got her to type in a ‘lol’ at one of my statements, and felt like we had a victory. Through our afternoon chat, we talked a bit about our families and I ended up saying something that stuck with me. Two simple words that changed my life: I stayed.
I stayed at my parents’ house longer than my siblings. I stayed in an abusive relationship longer than anyone sane should have. I stayed in a lot of crappy jobs because I didn’t think I was worth more money.
For being accused of ‘running away’ at every opportunity, I ended up staying in a lot of places for a long time.
And when I look back, it’s the times I stayed rather than the times I ran that I have most regret over. I wonder would I have been a different person if I’d left the family home sooner, if I’d called the police on my ex. Then again, those imaginations take real life work to make happen, and I still know the me that was that woman – she couldn’t do it. I still feel that helplessness, that inability to hold the pieces of my life together in a coherent whole. It’s an overwhelming terror, and one I try hard not to think about too much.
…Damn, that’s a hard sentence to follow up on. It’s a hard thought, too.
Here’s an early depressing thought for you: one day down, 364 more to go. That little sarcasm popped into my brain early today. Not exactly making it my year when I think like that. But what can I say? I told Blah yesterday I was flipping like a pancake and I am. It may be my fastest cycling since I was a teen. Tears and laughter seem to be coming in equal amounts. I’m chalking it up to anxiety. Or trying to dismiss it as anxiety… I need a full body enema. Ram that tube up my ass and rinse me out, bowels and brains and all. Fuck.
Still not reaching for that Ativan. *cough, cough* Smoking too much.
Well. I know one sure way to get me out of this funk right now. Caveat: I have no idea where it will lead me, but it WILL get me out of this funk. Fact: my brother is currently writing new music. Fact: whenever my brother writes new music, he inspires me to write. I have written more stories, more poetry, more music of my own because he’s playing his new material in the house. Right now I can barely hear it because he’s doing it on his computer. So I’m going to ask him to give me his rough MP3s so I can loop them on MY computer and hear them better. He played them for me on New Year’s Eve and trust me, it was all I could do to stop myself from picking up pen and paper. Something about what he does…I don’t know. It unlocks a part of me. People wonder about our relationship (hell – I wonder about our relationship). Well, here it is. He’s my muse. Everything he writes affects me, inspires me, pushes me to do and be more. He makes me resonate something, and I like what I am when I’m like that. I know that’s weird. I think it’s weird. But it is what it is, and anytime you ask me, I’ll be grateful for it.
The forecast is for rain over the next week or so. Sounds bloody mah-velous since I’ll be out walking to and fro for my various appointments. But it does give me time when I’m not out getting wet to immerse myself in anything I choose. And the next two days are clear of everything other than sucking up the dust bunnies under my bed. Down the rabbit hole I go. The dust bunnies can always wait.