Ten years ago, I was in this really dumb rehab in Sydney. Dave would drive down and visit me, brimming with his realness and charm. We hadn't been together for very long. He saw things in me that I could not see .. not yet. I wasn't on speaking terms with anyone in my family, had major anxiety/depressive issues, and my hair was falling out from the stress of not being able to stay clean.
I took the bus into Glebe one Saturday, with enough money to buy a book. I went straight to the self-help section, did not want to talk to anybody. Wasn't feeling so hot. Those days I used to walk around with all of my insides on the outside. A raw nerve ending. I was so used to being a fuck-up in life that it was hard to believe I was anything else but.
I stood in the self-help section, choosing my book that would help set me free. I closed my eyes and summoned the Spirits, what book do I need to read right now, in my life? (I see you smiling with recognition, Palemother.)
I couldn't pick one. Why? BECAUSE THEY WERE ALL APPLICABLE. Overcoming family dysfuncion, suicide survivor, alcoholic, low self-esteem. How to be be better, let go, awaken your spirit, don't sweat the small stuff, all in ten easy steps. I realised it was closing time, the shop guy wanted to close up. But I couldn't choose, and I really wanted to get it right. So what do I do?
Have a panic attack in the self-help section of a book store.
Even in my sweaty, shaky state, the irony was not lost. I ended up picking a dud book that I never read, because shop guy was watching me. I forced myself to walk over to the counter with purpose, totally pretending that I was ok. I was not ok. Marchello Wallace would call it - "Pretty fucken far from ok."
It's been a week of hugging the couch and staying up too late. Frozen. A wild-eyed insomniac at 2.30am, terrified. I keep waiting for it to pass, and think back on a time when I was in a MUCH better rehab and the therapist listened to my anxiety-ridden-angst and looked me squarely in the eye. "Eden. Your day does not have to be determined by your feelings."
Which was an eye-opener. You could actually function as a person and not be entirely dependant on how you feeeeel. Who knew!
I had thought that the oil spill over in the U.S Gulf of Mexico was coming from a tanker. That it was a big, terrible, awful mess ..... but it would eventually stop. Ignorance is bliss -
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That's a live feed of the oil, gushing out into the ocean. Every day I think of it just pouring out, pouring away the ocean.
It's not from a tanker at all. I don't think BP can fix it. It's bad - really, really bad. Cue useless hand-wringing.
Then I watched this:
(It goes for twenty minutes, but so well worth watching.)
Then I tried calming myself down by looking for Madeline Kahn singing with Grover, but ended up viewing 9/11 footage that I had never seen. Shocking, despicable footage.
3am and all's hell!
And I had that terrible feeling I had in the bookstore. Too many things are wrong! I'm powerless!
What if we're living on a dying planet but nobody wants to admit it? Australia has a new Prime Minister this week - a woman with red hair, no less. She didn't get elected in, though. She backstabbed, got the numbers to oust KRudd. I wish our politicians (on both sides) would expend as much energy into running the fucking country than they do conspiring and plotting for power.
And what the hell can I even do about it. I'm just a spoilt white woman in a western world living in a big house with our fancy toys. I'm quite repulsive. True dat.
I believe there is a shift in collective consciousness coming, on the whole of planet earth.
Because, you know, I AM a soothsayer.
I have decided to re-plant our veggie garden, for the first time since Dave got sick. And I'm going to go to Max's school and see if I can implement some kind of awareness activities and education about recycling and greening. And I'm going to laugh at the crazies in my brain, telling me the world is a sad bad place and everything is futile. I will continue feeling desperate inside. But all feelings ebb and flow. It will pass. Even kidney stones eventually pass, right?
We are all doomed. Maybe we are. But maybe we're not. I don't need alcohol or drugs to survive in life anymore - that's a fricken miracle. So I know miracles exist. Maybe one day, Rocco's great great grandchildren will talk in school with awe about how in the olden days, the humans nearly wrecked the planet.
Do you ever get so tired because you know you need to wake the hell up?