Wednesday, October 08, 2008

i don’t need a therapist - i have long staple egyptian cotton sheets instead

i've been moping around this god-fore-saken apartment for months. beating myself up over everything that wasn't quite what it should have or could have been — all while knowing it would never be. it hasn't all been drudgery of course. my friends have done a very good job of poking their heads into my life when it is most needed while still respecting my hermitic tendency for privacy regarding my closely guarded personal life. it's a precarious balance to achieve and they've hung in there for years when many would have walked away long ago. i am a precarious balance to achieve. most don't bother.

but anyway, back to me & my teenage doldrums. i'm sad. i'm disappointed. i'm frustrated. waa waa waa. i feel like i have no control over too many aspects of my life and it's pissing me off. i like a little control in my chaos and a little chaos in my control. right now everything is just fucked and it has left me sitting in my apartment for hours on end wondering what to do. what to do, what to do. that phrase in my head is starting to synch up with the horns in the harbor.

of course at the moment i don't HAVE to do anything. i'm in between jobs at work, i can live in crazy lady squalor if i want — i'm not really a fan of company anyway. there's really nothing that i must do and it has left me feeling uneasy. i'm not an idle woman. it leaves too much time to think and idle heather is a very troubled heather. it is best to keep me moving as much as possible. it's the chondrichthyes in me.

so here i sit and i think. there are a few little blades of metal pricking at my brain and festering in my belly that won't let me rest — and i can't do a single thing about them. they are beyond my control. that is a hard one to swallow. but i can sleep and i have been doing an awful lot of it. my dreams are currently running 50/30/20.

50% idealistic-hopeful-nurturing.
30% depressing-shatter the delusions-little salt on the wounds-slap in the face.
20% terrifying visions of violence and horror.

i keep having the same dream where different women i know are being choked and last night my sub-conscious finally got around to me. i don't know if i ultimately died but my last image was of me standing in front of my mirror and watching the blood pool to the surface of the skin on my face from all the broken capillaries. it was enough to convince me that i would much prefer spontaneous combustion to all other forms of death. choking is such a personal, hateful way to kill someone and if it's anything like my dream — rather painful.

on the brighter side, most of my dreams have been languishing in the lovely pool of surreal heaven nestled deep within my cranium. that wonderful nugget of escapism that keeps my chin just above water. and so i retreat day after day into my sweltering bedroom and crawl between the covers to hide for just a few more hours — 'just a few more, i'll get back to life after one more nap i swear.' i love my bed. my soft, clean, robins egg blue sheets that smell of freshly bathed heather and peony linen water. they have been my salvation these last few months. they have swaddled me through many a breakdown and no matter what transpires during the night — they are always there in the morning, happy to see me as ever — whispering quietly 'no need to rush away little girl, stay awhile.'

and i do.

i start working again in a week or so — until then i just want to take refuge between my lovely linens. they are my greatest comfort and sanity.