The vultures circled overhead for days before they swooped. They pecked out my eyes, gouged on my brains, tore my heart from it's hiding place with their bare beaks. Do vultures even have beaks? I don't know, I was too busy hiding my head in my arms to look. A camping trip was planned but I told Dave to take the boys - all of them, and go. Save yourselves, I thought as I watched them drive off. Terrible, this feeling.
Every now and then, I cannot function. It used to happen once a year, these days it's happening all too frequently and this weekend was the worst and the lowest in a while. The world is grey, I cannot bear to be anywhere, especially in my own skin. I can only write about it now because it's leaving. I don't know if it's indicative of where I'm at in the world, where I have been, or what I'm still struggling to become. The only way I know how to deal with it is to stop and be still ... let the demons stomp all over me. Because they always get bored and leave.
It's so stupid, and I don't talk about it that much, because ... LOONY. I always get better and get respectable and re-join society. On the plus side, my brother lent me the first two series of Rescue Me. I have sat in bed all weekend and watched Denis Leary battle his own demons, fucking awesome. Gritty, real, and raw. I love watching shows with dysfunctional characters and messy plotlines. Makes me feel ok.
I spoke to Dave today on the phone. He said everybody else struggles the same, they just don't like to show it.
I miss the boys so much. Leaving in the morning to drive five hours north to join them camping. Dave text me a photo of Rocco sitting up in his highchair outside the tent and it would have torn my heart out, if the vultures hadn't got to it first. It feels ridiculous, as there's nothing tangibly wrong. I won't be taking my laptop as it done broke (SOB) ... I'm going to try and set some blog posts on a timer, to publish every few days.
A therapist once told me, years ago ... to go home, take off my shoes, and walk around the backyard. To literally get grounded. I need to watch Max on the slippery dip and get dirty. Get sand in my bum crack and toast marshmallows and swing Rocco and laugh with Tim and tell Dave to make his own cup of damn tea. (And then kiss him).
For fucks sake.
An unexamined life is not worth living ... but an examined life is still pretty fucking hard.
- Photo taken by me at a U2 concert 11/11/06
Meet Me in Chicago at BlogHer ’13!
1 hour ago