OK - I'm just going to admit it. I feel weak. I'm having trouble working. I feel out of my routine. I'm not eating properly. I'm exhausted - so exhausted I want to curl up with a fleece blanket and sleep for hours beneath a cozy tree.
My second truth is that I feel mad. It's a combination of a King Lear and Travis Bickle madness. At any minute I feel capable of pulling my hair out, putting my fist through a wall, ramming my car into a tree. I feel betrayed, alientated and vulnerable.
I dreamt I was 2.5 months pregnant last night. When I went in for the pregnancy test, I jokingly told the doctor that the last thing I wanted was to be pregnant. When I returned for a follow-up visit, I told her I was keeping the baby. I had actually begun to develop a small tummy. She was concerned that I wasn't doing the right thing for myself. The doctor's office was a like a factory, and all of the patients were examined in the same large and cold room without any privacy.
My sister and I had a discussion about where people go when they die. We both realized that we use heaven as a term for the where the dead go, but we don't relate it to any religion. Do I believe my mom is Jesus' homegirl? No. Do I think this heaven is beautiful? Yes. Is it better than earth? Maybe. Is she happier? Probably. Does she miss us? Not one of us will ever know.
So I can't stop crying and crying gives me headaches and headaches make me tired and bitchy and bitchy makes me feel bad and feeling bad leads to more crying and it's rather boring to be me.
My sister and Andrew bought me a fish when they were up for vacation. We named him Aqua Moo IV. He died already.
The distance that the dead have gone
Does not at first appear-
Their coming back seems possible
For many an ardent year.
-Emily Dickinson
P.S. For those I haven't spoken with in a while. Andrew, Sandra, Jill, Kathryn - I hope you had a wonderful holiday. I've been thinking about all of you. Happy New Year.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
this is from one of my favorite books, "the prophet". i wanted to share it with you my sweet sister...
On Joy & Sorrow
Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow, " and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall
I miss you and love you tons!!!!
Thinking of you too over the holidays, Annie! Here's some more of Gibran's The Prophet, this one on time (like your Dickinson poem):
"And is not time even as love is, undivided and spaceless?"
Sending you all my love in 2006, and a wish for a happy and healthy New Year.
That dream you had - signifies a lot. Very interesting, do you still have a dream dictionary? I'd look that one up, sis. If not, I know some web sites that will fascinate you if interested.
So you do know that all of this that you feel is totally normal, right?
Post a Comment