Monday, December 14, 2009

Things Fall Apart (not a book review)

First, random pet note: Some people like to think outside the box; some pets like to doodie outside the box.

Today I had a day off. M had to work, so I was by myself, which could be a good thing, to have some alone time to myself, but for me it wasn't. It seems like when I have any time alone, which I have a lot of lately because M and I are on different schedules, I am paralyzed. Things I want to do, from chores to errands to phone calls to friends don't get done. I do a few things - a load of laundry, a trip to the grocery store - but am not nearly as productive as I would want to be, or would think I should be able to be, as I have time to be. How do I explain this nothing? It's not just rest, actually it's more like restlessness. I wander around the house, picking up random things to take upstairs or back downstairs. I stand and brush my hair, I take a long shower, all the while painfully conscious of my own thoughts, sometimes repeating a nonsense tail end of a thought over and over in my head, or a fraction of a song lyric, different ones throughout the day, over and over (there's the butter, there's the butter, there's the butter). A skipping record is a more than accurate metaphor. A voice, my own?, comes out of nowhere at moments throughout the day calling me names - stupid, fat, etc. I walk around angry, depressed, lost. My mind is scattered and obsessively focused at the same time. I'm easily distracted, impatient and twitchy. I can't just sit at a red light, I have to fiddle with something. Today a car tooted me because I was fiddling with something in the car and didn't realize the light had turned.

I watched tv even though there was nothing on and I didn't really want to watch it. Again, the paralysis. I went to the library, sat down with a stack of books for a while, then went to put them back on the shelves, walked around for 5 - 10 minutes without realizing that I had left my open pocketbook and keys at the seat. I'm hyper-aware of everything else around me - a woman scratching her head, a man with a cough - and my brain takes those moments and holds them and I write tiny little stories about them in my head.

I went to a bookstore and saw a rather interesting selection in the comic book (or graphic novel) section. It was a fully illustrated version of the entire Holy Bible, in comic book form. Most notably, there was a parental advisory on the front cover - adult supervision suggested for minors. I quickly picked it up, much interested in how they were going to handle all those "begets," but aside from some truly exaggerated breasts on Eve, there wasn't much.

I called M to see where she was with her day, then went and got a cookie, sat on a bench in the mall and waited for her to call back. What else was there to do with myself?

I don't care about anything and at the same time I'm bothered by everything. It's a lonely feeling that I carry around and don't say to anybody (I don't want to be a problem, and I don't know of there's a cure). That isn't entirely deception, because as soon as I'm around other people, I pep up at least a little. Problem is, there are some things I would like to get done that require me to be alone. They would also require me to be more functional and clear-headed when I'm alone.

I'm scared and paranoid all the time, from the realistic to the hysterical. I went upstairs to change clothes this evening, and could tell that the lamp was on in the bedroom. I knew I had turned the lamp on earlier, but thought I had turned it back off. My mind went to the idea that someone, a person that might murder me, perhaps, could have broken in to the house and was waiting for me upstairs. Then my mind went to the para(anti)normally horror-ble - I imagined a rotting corpse lying on the bed waiting for me.

What the hell? Someone help me. As I said, all this seems to float away, for the most part, when I'm around people. Then I can just focus obsessively on what they think of me.

Hello. Thank you.

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