I don’t think it’s fair to deny me the right to fall apart – just a little bit. I don’t want to unpack and stay there, but I do think I should be allowed to visit for a little while… I want to lie in my bed with a box of tissues, eating ice cream out of the tub with a spoon and watching chick flicks.
Sometimes, it’s the littlest things that become the straw. This contraption is leaking. From somewhere. My hallway is flooded. The carpet is soaked. I am washing the towels I used to soak some of the water, in hopes of finding the leak… I’ve discovered the tap washer needs replacing… But there’s another source I cannot find…
So, I’m sitting on the floor watching the washing go around, knowing I’m being ridiculous, knowing this is just a small problem, but trying very hard not to cry, because there is ALWAYS something… And I am so very tired of fixing everything all by myself.
I’m over it. As simple as that. It’s rained every day for weeks. It’s rained a lot. The puddles have turned into small lakes. Paths have become a gymnast’s playground – or perhaps I should just focus on perfecting my balance for the summer surf?
The rain affects my mood though. I am grumpy. I am tired. I am unmotivated.
I have tickets to see Strictly Ballroom (which I know will be amazing!) in the city this afternoon… And all my mind is considering is the buses and ferry to get there in the rain… Is it worth doing my hair? What clothes do I own with fast drying power? I really don’t want to carry an umbrella….
I need sunshine. I need the warmth on my shoulders, the breeze on the nape of my neck and the salt in my mouth. I want my water in the ocean across the road, not falling endlessly from the clouds.
All of my life, I have surrounded myself with people with depth… Who like to point out my flaws… Also in depth. And with love. But they are quick to list those flaws – a different one each time of course… Perhaps this is the narcissistic need I am currently accused of possessing? A need for attention, even if negative. Like the recalcitrant student in class.
I seem to give considerable time to the people who simply wish to nourish me… With their character analysis… Assassination? I seem to give far less time to those people who say – meh, we love you regardless – we all have flaws. A question of balance?
Clunk. Clang. Bam. The final door to the vault is shut.
I do not think the world is out to get me or that people do not care. *I* don’t care. This is the vital bit. I am numb. Dead. Empty. Choose a synonym. I just don’t care. I shut out my world and I have not missed it. I should. I know this. But I don’t.
I like my safe. The solid walls. The lack of light. It’s cosy here. Does that sound odd? My safe feels safe – I wonder if the pun was subconsciously intended?
I enjoy the silence. The solitude. I can still my mind and not actually think beyond the moment. A permanent state of enlightenment is close at hand.
My favourite part of the day is lying in bed in the morning, knowing I don’t have to get up just yet. Listening to the sounds of the day. Happy that the rain seems to have abated for at least one morning. Being alternately kicked and snuggled by the baby dragon still sleeping beside me. Stretching my aching muscles and pondering the day ahead.
My least favourite time of the day is having to get up…
That elusive state.
I don’t recall ever sleeping well, but apparently I did for a short period many, many moons ago.
I used to lie in bed for hours chasing sleep. Counting sheep. Counting backwards. Meditating. Anything.
About a year ago, that need stopped. My head now hits the pillow and I am asleep within moments.
I just can’t stay there.
I can’t remember the last time I woke refreshed. I’ve completely forgotten how it feels to wake after a dreamless sleep, or even a night of pleasant dreams. I no longer remember my dreams, just the feelings… The stress, the fear, the anger, the pain.