Encore, je suis Charlie.
But I am also me, and "me" is dangling from the end of her rope and wondering why the hell she keeps hanging on or trying to climb back up it. I think somebody has greased it about halfway up so I'll keep slipping down again.
My throat hurts. It feels like there are rocks in it when I swallow, and even when I am simply sitting still, breathing, it burns. I swear, I feel like I could breathe flames. I have a cough. It's not productive, unless you consider causing an achy back, sore muscles, sore ribs (I don't care if they say bones can't hurt, my ribs HURT!), a seriously displeased neck, inability to sleep, and occasionally making me pee a little when I don't want to (Ain't motherhood grand?)(Yes. Yes it is.) productive...except in the morning when my sinuses have had all night to quietly, sneakily, drip, drip, drip their drippy drippings into my lungs, so as soon as I get up there is a sort of glacier-like sheet of I-don't-want-to-know-what-it-is coating them that brings on a spate of hacking that may or may not loosen up all that gunk and exacerbates the whole throat situation.
My spirit is dented, dinged, dingy, and dark. Depression has me in its teeth and is shaking me, a dog with a rat, and I don't have time to deal with it - I am, for all intents and purposes, a single mother with two active, bright, annoyingly healthy (No, I don't wish them ill, not at all, not one little bit!) children, no income, chores to do, animals to care for, and responsibilities that I cannot hand off to anyone else. I'm not getting much sleep at night, I am constantly feeling chilled or downright cold, and lately I am as stiff and a board when I move. I am feeling The Beiges keenly right now, which means I am acutely aware of just how little I am worth to the world at large (despite assurances that I am wrong, I can't help what I feel, I can only help what I do about those feelings). I am also feeling heightened anxiety when going out into the world, and am struggling to keep myself up and moving rather than huddled under my blankets and telling everyone and everything to piss off. Mental illness is not a picnic, and right now it's kicking my ass a little.
I was supposed to pay my phone bills this week but the money disappeared. Not "disappeared" as in I spent it on frivolous or even necessary things, but "disappeared" as in it was there last night and this morning it is not. Seriously. It was in my pants pocket when I took 'em off one night, and two days later when I put the pants back on (don't panic, I was getting dressed, just wearing different pants those days) so I could go pay my bills, it was gone. Not in the pants. Not on the floor. Not under the furniture. Not in any room or closet or cupboard or cubby or bag or box or shelf or sink or toilet or bedroom. Not in the kitchen. Not in the garage. Not in the van, or the van, or the truck. Not in one of my kids' room. Not in any of the pockets of any of my other pants, nor in Someone's pants. Somehow, $240 managed to disappear into thin air. All I can figure it is fell out of my pocket when I was at the grocery store, but if it dd and someone found it, they kept it, because I called and asked and no one has turned anything in. So...I am piggybacking on a neighbor's Internet until they figure out they should password protect it, and hoping I can sweet talk the phone company into not turning off my cell phone...too late for the house and Internet...and I'm supposed to feel like I'm not useless how, exactly?
The world has gone mad. People are killing other people over gods and prophets because apparently those gods and prophets are so weak and useless that satire and disbelief damage them and must therefor be punished. People are killing other people because of who the other people love, because apparent;y love is dangerous and could spread and then people might be happy, gods forbid. People are killing other people because the other people think or look or act differently. People are killing other people...
A long, long, long, loooooooong time ago I tied a knot in the end of my rope. I won't let go and I won't fall off...but my figurative arms and my figurative hands are awfully tired of hanging on.
Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!
"...besides love, independence of thought is the greatest gift an adult can give a child." - Bryce Courtenay, The Power of One
For old quotes, look here.
For old quotes, look here.