Dear (Dream Mother),
Here's my deal for Wednesday in case I can't say. Monday was a problem. It started because of something I saw and wanted to photograph even though it made me feel dread. I didn't shoot it. I decided I didn't want it. It doesn't help. It was the swirly, bare branches of thin, young trees against a horrible and ugly sky. It was the solid gray/ white mass of yuck, which is really no sky at all. Nothing. Ugly. Cold. Weird thoughts that were not really formed and understandable were trying to explode in my mind, and then... the zone out. A different, safer kind of nothing. The problem is, it gets too strong and then I am in danger of being unable to talk, respond, think... I can't let that happen anymore. What if I never come back from there someday? It could rot my brain. It's very, very hard to fight off that place, but I did it - sort of. I did it well enough. It took all of my will and made me so tired, but I did it well enough because I was able to form a response if addressed. I was numb and a bit stupid, but I could think a little and I could talk. But then - no sleep until almost 10 in the morning, even though I could not feel whatever was causing the problem inside. I wasn't connected to it anymore, but I was still unable to sleep. Tuesday I had to get my act together and get a list going and do a lot of work so I would be okay. It's almost 4 in the morning as I write this. I don't really have much left that I want to do tonight. I'm a little disappointed about that, even though I'm quite tired. I'm also a smelly, sweaty pig and I need to brush my teeth and take a shower. I will of course, but I feel the dread. The pattern of the last couple of days is the kind of thing that makes me feel like my life is shit. Like there is no escape and I will never be free to do the things I dream of doing. Do you see what can happen to me just from looking at the wrong row of trees? Now do you understand more of the reasons for that thing you called homicidal rage? And no, I haven't been feeling that, either, and I don't think that is what got squashed. It was pure fear that got erased. I haven't felt much of anything, but now there is the dread. But... the floors are clean and the kids' bathroom sparkles. I am a skilled and educated janitor with creative talents and an IQ of 164. I'm so proud! I'm so fulfilled! NOT. There. I 'noted' it. I even fucking remembered it. And I'm still the janitor.
p.s. Don't bother telling me to let myself feel the fear. I don't necessarily get to control that anyway, but I felt the fear for decades. It didn't help, it only made me a basket case. You know what else? I don't think northern trees should be allowed in the tropics. They should all be dug up and shipped out of here to be replaced with something more suitable. I'm sure some frozen patch in hell could use more trees.
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Sounds like a perfect description of the wasteland you used to write of. I too would often write letters/blog posts to my T in case I couldn't talk in a session. Glad to know I'm not the only one.
ReplyDeleteHey, Lynn: Just stopped in to see how you were. I hope you're able to get some rest this week. When I read about the trees, I thought of one of those movies that is supposed to be clever and turns out being just bad - Nightmare Before Christmas, I think. Anyway, I just wanted you to know I was here and listening, and that I brought you a hug if you need one. :) [[[HUG]]]
ReplyDeleteBlessings for rest to you...
ReplyDeleteyou've written a description of what I call "the under toad"...
peace from the under toad to you.
-else
Bloody hell you have a high IQ. I am not surprised. Also to note not just a janitor, but also a stock market speculator if you dont mind me saying.
ReplyDeleteEnola, it is the wasteland, alright. I haven't thought of those wasteland posts from the old place for quite some time, but it sure is the wasteland.
ReplyDeleteAw, thanks Lawyerchik. You're sweet. When I read what you wrote about a bad movie, it reminded me of something. Remember the Charlie Brown holiday specials on TV when we were kids? They used to creep me out. Especially the Christmas ones because of the weather scenes. There were scraggly trees there, too. It was even freaky in a cartoon! Plus... I was scared by Horton Hears a Who as well. The concept of Whoville scared my socks off. Strange.
Thank you for the hug, and right back at {{{you}}}.
Thank you, my new friend. So my watseland is your under toad? I find that very intriguing. Very intriguing. I'm totally full of shit mind you, because I'm too scared to write, and probably won't do it, but... if I wrote of the wasteland again, wouldn't it be something to encounter another (harmless) person in there? I wonder what would happen then? Can two people occupy a single wasteland? What if they could? Wow. The possibilities are fascinating. Still, I know what that place is about and why iy exists. I'm sorry that you have an under toad. Maybe, next time it tries to suck you under, you could email me and we could chat? Maybe talking to someone else who has an under toad could stop it from getting too strong? Also, just out of curiosity, have you ever had anything disturbing happen in there? If you ever want to chat about it, you can find my email on my profile page.
K, you are so very sweet to me. I think I get angry that my IQ matters for shit when I can't do anything with it. The men are right. It ain't what you got that counts, it's what you do with it that really matters. :-)
Ah, well.