Tuesday, February 12, 2008

small and still and undisturbed. its what i want. and what i'm afraid of. wanting because of the absolution that's bound to it. turn down the lights, muffle invading sounds. be still. and inside. and quiet. trying to find a way to let go without letting go. to be able to achieve distance from the outside for the hours i have to myself. lose the time that's mine to lose. now that i've walked away from my job i have three whole days to indulge myself. with solitude. not solitude. a kind of comforting vacuum.
but the show must go on. P has to be taken to nursery. Adult conversations must be had. dinner made. dog walked. How much of the outside function can i maintain while secretly willing myself further and further away.
the longer i leave it, the harder it is to get back. one day without brushing my teeth, two days without washing my hair. deliberately not taking the meds in case they strengthen my fingernail grip. stop me from disappearing. but not committing, medicating intermittently. enough for " and how was your day?" and putting on clothes. enough to take P to the park with a neighbour. enough to take the cat and talk to the vet. joke even. enough to give S a plausible account of a productive day. so he doesn't despise my sloth. seek pastures greener. again.
outside is jagged edges and piercing sounds. clumsy intrusions. it's too bright, too loud. too personal. abrasive. other. too much.
so few tools to challenge myself to consider the inevitable conclusion. yet here i am. what would happen if i disappeared completely. i've backspaced over that line twice. can't answer my own question. except I can. i know i've felt this way before. i know i've lived through it. i remember this feeling - that S is a great father and that there's lots of people who love P. that the clouds would soon pass. how ridiculous. how indulgent i sound. such melodrama. how pathetic.


At 3:19 pm, February 12, 2008, Blogger Jenny, the Bloggess said...

Oh sweetie. I get it. Really...all of it. The loss, the drugs, the giving up.

Don't do it.

Take your meds, hug your kid, keep sleepwalking through this one step at a time and one day you'll wake up out of this nightmare and feel stronger. I promise.

From one medicated woman to another...take your meds.

Big hugs to you.

At 6:34 pm, February 12, 2008, Blogger Mel said...

Dodo, don't disappear. The space you would leave is not fillable by anyone but you.

You are an amazing, strong woman. I believe in you. Don't let go.

Take the meds.

At 9:42 pm, February 12, 2008, Blogger Her Imperial Majesty said...

Don't give up Dodo, Fight til you drop
I've read the book and you come out on top

i'm with you on the non teeth cleaning tendancy as initial indicator of the slide and other than throwing you my invisible rope, i'm at a loss..

'one day at a time sweet Jeeezuz' is a bit trite, innit

At 10:53 pm, February 12, 2008, Blogger Mary said...

It's that awful feeling that strikes so many women......we've been there, and like herimperialmajesty said, this one has a good ending but you just have to hang in there.

Take the meds, do one thing at a time, and ask for help. Find a tiny spot of joy or peace in your life and visit it as often as you can until it expands and becomes larger. You'll get through this.

At 11:52 pm, February 13, 2008, Blogger Debbie said...

the feelings are real. you don't sound pathetic. you sound far away. I know that kinda far away.

but if you go too far away I'll miss you SO FUCKING MUCH and you wouldn't want to do that to me, would you?

never mind P. and S.

and Maj. and your other many, many friends and life-loves.

we love you and we will wait for you to come back from the far-away that you're in.

I will, anyway.



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