I am a playground
Posted on | February 18, 2005 | Comments Off
Monkey bars block the passage to sleep. Swings clink and squeek to and fro, my sanity along for the ride. And a sandbox muddles my speech, slowing my travel out of the mire.
I sat on the porch last night, shivering in the cold but so hot on the inside that I feared burning up. This feeling seems to be common these days. I start at a comfortable gallop towards a pasture of green opportunity and then suddenly find myself lame, and neck deep in quicksand. Staring at the waving grasses, a rainbow of earthtones, I can do nothing but cry and rage. Complications come when my stubborness or inability lock my knight in shining armor far away, blanketed by shadows and the moaning trees. This doens’t have to make sense to you. It doesn’t make sense to me. But I feel better for having said it.
I don’t fall as quickly as others. Sometimes I find feathers beneath my palms or a pillow on which the blow will fall, rather than my cheekbone. It grows tiresome for me, within myself and I can only imagine what its like for those who visit my porch, who are intimatly involved in this insanity. So, I got 2 hours of sleep last night. Raging, sleepless, bitter….I found no comfort in my own self loathing and the dance of pixels upon the TV screen did little to distract me. I couldn’t sleep because I was pissed and I was pissed because I couldn’t sleep. Round and round and round I went, until I finally fell into a fitful nap.
Looking in the mirror this morning, I hated what stared back at me. I have nervous habits, which scar me physically. I can’t leave wounds well enough alone and find that I have torn flesh unconciously, only to be reminded of my humanity by my blood stained fingertips. It’s not really cutting, rather its just a nasty habit of picking and picking until it really hurts. But beyond the wounds you won’t see, the baggage beneath my eyes impresses. I can’t find a single thing in the reflection that reminds me of how happy I can be. I know I can be. I used to be. And I understand this is just a lapse, and I will swing again on those creaky swings and find myself bathed in sunshine. The heat of the universe will warm me, melting fire with fire, allowing the pink to show, tender flesh to experience new life. But damn, it’s a dark place here sometimes. And I am tired of it being dark. I grow so weary of these long dips into depression and self-destruction. What scares me is for the first time he recommended, perhaps, seeing someone about this again. But I will resist. I need sleep. I need a schedule that doesn’t tax me so physically. The damage done to my body by the other anti-depressants I was on will not allow for risk-taking in the drug department. I don’t know that my body can afford such torture…..so I contemplate solutions, ways to tear out of this overwhelming black trash bag, so that I can breathe in sunshine again.
Don’t worry about me. This will pass. It always does.
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