Friday, 7 December 2018

"It's Often the Last Key in the Bunch That Opens the Lock."

Hey you guys I'm really sorry it's just I've been really, really scared. Fear eats us from the inside and I'm not just tired but soultired and sweaty from going from one place to another (like, the living room to the bathroom.) Maybe the sweaty is from menopause I'm not sure.

One thing's for sure is that I owe you my words and my worlds and my swirls but - I can't write what's happening until it's over. (It's not over, for the everlasting gobstopper of hell.)

Hey you know how I was brought up strict Catholic like eating the jesus wafers and everything .. well yesterday morning I was so abjectly terrified. (ABJECT - such a dramatic word!!) I was near-hyperventilating because I couldn't pray. It's hard to explain ... at the risk of sounding entirely nutsack crazy (TOO LATE) ... I felt like I was being prevented from praying properly? Or my prayer wasn't strong enough? Or have I prayed too stupidly that I'm pushed to the back of the prayer queue I don't know. I know that prayer is powerful. I also know that prayer is especially powerful when one is strong, and righteous. I'm currently a meek sheep who wouldn't say boo to a goose. I've also been facing lengthy hospitalisation for a few errant brain malfunctions lately but finally what I've been saying for years is true: they ran out of label makers for all of my labels. (The latest being Borderline Personality Disorder and I really, really didn't want that one UGH!)

FUCK. Why can't I just BE BETTER and be done with it and then talk about it freely in public discourse. You know - all that suicide awareness bullshit. I could tag my coattails onto that lucrative business. Government grants for mental health initiatives are BOOMING! I'll talk about it once I've come good! I'd be onstage with shiny sleek hair, my words punctuated by meaningful gestures, tissues at the ready. Finally able to walk in stilettos! A little like how Biggest Loser Trainer Michelle Bridges is an Ambassador for the Black Dog Institute ... one day last year she was going to a fancy black tie dinner event to promote the cause. She instagrammed a photo of herself with the caption "I just LOVE having conversations about mental health!" Then in her post she tagged the boutiques and brands of the beautiful dress and shoes and jewellery and makeup she was wearing. Feeling particularly trollish I commented on her pic with "Hi Michelle, you look really stunning. I was just wondering what kinds of conversations you love having about mental health? I'd be really interested. Unfortunately my brother died from suicide, I'd really love for these dreadful Aussie suicide statistics to improve."

I never got a response from Michelle. In another magazine she was talking about the huge benefits of exercise when you're feeling depressed, how you just "get up and do it!" I had to turn my phone off lest I unabashedly unleashed on her account.

Ok where was I? I didn't know I was going to write about that, best laid plans, etc. Hey - can I just say I feel better already, just writing to you? I really do feel less alone, like we're all in this together. Which we are. And I feel fiercely protective of you, reading this. You are the readers, which makes me the readee? I don't know. I just adore you people and I really am holding a get-together in the shiny new year, before we've made any fuckups yet. I'm thinking the location will be on the rug on my living room floor SURELY it can fit us all on? It's magic.

Oh crap hang on I almost forgot to finish my story. I had to call a taxi yesterday to take me to the mechanics to pick my car up .. for the past two weeks the front passenger rear mirror was just all broken and hanging from its cord. Finally it was fixed yesterday (I HATE being female in these situations #markup)

So grateful to be able to afford getting my mirror fixed ... especially grateful I could get a cab to take me there so I could pick up my son from school. I paid the cabbie then he looks embarrassed but said it anyway. "Eden - wow, great name - so Eden sometimes I pray with my customers. Do you mind if we have a quick prayer together?" I said of course, inwardly I was gobsmacked. The cabbie's name is Grahame and his prayer was so good and short and uncomfortable but WAY COOL. We said amen at the same time.

When I got out of the cab we said our goodbyes ... and now I know how to pray again. And this is how the world works if you are brave to get messily honest enough. People crop up right when you need them. Things happen at the EXACT right time. You get a funny tingly feeling. Life shouldn't be centred around not feeling fear but what we can do in spite of it. Despite it.


(Sorry I can't remember why I called this post why I did but I kind of like it? I'll be back real soon. Nite you guys xxxxx)

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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