Voodooesque

i don't want to walk with the empty dog leash in my hand. we're crossing the long neglected playing field in the less nice part of town. its the shortcut to daycare. a dog crap, broken glass, rusty swing brief barrier between our 'sought after' address and the ancient, tree lined avenue where she'll spend her day. after twice a day, three days a week, we recognise other short cut users. and their dogs. ours rushes over to sniff greeting to her friends. a momentary squabble over a ball or rope toy. this morning the sky threatened heavy showers. the field was empty. if someone attacked us, i could use the heavy rope in defence. but then they might wrest it from me and tighten it over my baby's throat. i know this is paranoia. i know that my mind does this to me because i am not taking my medication. i defy it. dangle the rope in my free hand. swinging. casually. but i want to put it in my pocket. i need to hide it. have to. i have a lump in my throat and the pounding in my head is so loud that i can't hear P chattering about her day to come. and how she hopes a certain girl will play with her. and that it doesn't rain this afternoon because after lunch on wednesdays they have their lessons outdoors. I breathe. and try to remember how well i am doing. that before i had medication i would have these technicolour, Pearl and Dean imaginings a dozen, a hundred times a day. i didn't know what it was like to have room in my head to live. to be considerate of others. to pay attention. open my eyes. often not being able to answer a phone or hear the door without sweating in some inadequate hiding place.
swinging a dog leash in my hand. this is progress. but i've cancelled my next week appointment with the shrink. i don't want to tell her. don't want to think about it. i have nothing to spare.

posted by dodo @ 10:36 am