June 2015

 

“For a minute there, I lost myself.” (Radiohead. Karma Police)

(see also, How to Disappear Completely)

It will go without saying by the end of this article that I’m not really blaming Mercury for my behaviour.
I’m not saying it was aliens, but it was aliens.

I’m joking (choking), I’m grown, I did this.

A week ago today, I had a meltdown.

Nuclear proportions.

Like Fukushima IF they had had the vacuum towers that suck everything up in the event of a disaster and contain everything within a day.

That is actually a thing, a fail-safe measure. Giant concrete towers filled with negative space.

Explosion happens.
AHHHHHOOOOOOHHHHHGAH
The doors open…
And
Whoosh.
Doors close.
Radioactive Mess Contained.
As well as any unfortunate soul within a 10 mile radius.
S’okay?
S’okay.
S’alright?
S’alright.

I have my own vacuum towers. Friends poised and ready to suck up all my shit so it doesn’t spill out and hurt the surrounding wildlife/inhabitants etc.

I leaked a bit. A lot a bit. Into the calm blue ocean.

I’m so fucking sorry.

 

 

I used to break down like this weekly, in the time called ‘before’ (5 years ago).

How the ever-loving fuck did I ever get anything done?

Oh, right, I didn’t.

And the guilt from the Nothing spilled over and made me feel weak, shitty, useless, cracked and I would explode again.

Conundrum.

It had been so long since I had a panic attack I couldn’t contain or sustain it.
It felt foreign and unproductive.

Logic had stepped out for a smoke and there was a delay activating the sucking it all up.

Which led to some collateral damage.

It remains to be seen if shit was destroyed or if this is a radioactive spider-bite resulting in super powers. I vote for the latter. Cosmic do-over.

I have had this life plan for a while. This blog is part of it. Big decisions were made, major purchases, shedding of material possessions, planning, plotting, scheming. Bravery on a grand scale was executed. I launched far and wide out of my comfort zone and found it remarkably comfortable.

11^th hour, right on the cusp…

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melt·down

ˈmelt-doun/

noun

a disastrous event, especially a rapid fall

 an outburst of severe emotional distress; a nervous breakdown.

“they wondered what could have triggered her meltdown”

synonyms:

breakdown, nervous breakdown, mental collapse;disintegration, collapse“she was heading for a meltdown and we chose to ignore the signs”

 

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Wait. The lie detector determines that was a lie. No, not the melt down, that was real. I have written proof.
It wasn’t the 11^th hour.
T’was a slow burn, it’s been building.
I had doubts. I’ve been crying a lot. Sleep was elusive. Appetite was …decidedly fussy. There were tantrums.
We chose to ignore the signs.

But I said the plan out loud, so I have to do this right?

Wait, why?

Things I should have asked myself prior to Sunday.
Man-made catastrophes are always followed by “shit guys, we saw that coming…”.

Slow burn begets explosion.

The clarity is astounding when the smoke clears.

I did that wrecking ball masking as a pendulum thing again. Swinging way too far both ways.

Big house alone + Ontario winter = too much

So we must live in a tiny mobile home far, far away…right?

No.

SIMMER THE FUCK DOWN. Not everything is boiling hot or freezing cold.

Ever hear of a happy medium? Also known as warm and cozy?

Big house all alone in the middle of nowhere was dubbed Narnia.

New house shall be henceforth known as Happy Medium.

I am sorry for the things I said when my life was falling apart during my shark week on the full moon while Mercury was in Retrograde.

I was standing in the forest screaming at the trees again. I couldn’t see that things were actually falling into place.

Fallout contained.

It’s safe to come out now.

 

 

How many times are we going to do this Sarah?

As many as we have to, until it feels good again.

By all rights I should be holed up in a bunker somewhere with lots of cats, canned goods and a shot gun.

People have done some fucked up shitty shit to me.
I have done some seriously fucked up shitty shit to myself.
Near death experiences? So very numerous.

Exhibit A, the house fire. I was 9 ½ months pregnant with my son. He was late.

For two full years after the fire, every single time I heard a siren my brain would immediately say “someone’s life is about to go in the toilet”.
I would cross myself and silently send out a prayer.
I am not even Catholic.
Ever had a house fire? Jesus, what a mess. I cannot imagine if we had lost someone.

Which leads me to another poignant point.
My son was late, tucked safely in my belly while the fire gutted our house. Meanwhile, there was a 105 pound Dalmatian sleeping at the end of the bed where the basinet would have been. The Dalmatian suffered severe smoke inhalation, can you imagine if I had had my son on time? Oh the horror.

Wait, what horror? The horror that didn’t happen? Why the fuck would I think about that? I was horrified enough thanks.

No need to extrapolate.

Don’t pile imaginary horror on top of actual horror.

I cringe every time I hear the words “a few more inches to the left” or “if they had found him a few minutes later”. They didn’t.

I managed to shed that thought process without any effort.
Just realized it serves no purpose.
Everything is as it should be.

So that eliminates problem one, playing “imagine if” with the past.

Segways nicely into Exhibit B. The Actual Past and it’s tendency to leak onto the Present.

My kingdom for a time machine. I did something really stupid over the weekend. My whole life blew up and I sucked the one good thing I had to look forward to into the shitty vortex.

How many times are we going to do this Sarah?
Negative one.

I went to Cougartown, everybody knows this. Truth be told I bought vacation property. Fine, no big deal except…Young Un Number One.

I live an hour drive outside of a major city center, my city. To get to said city there is one main logical route. Takes me past a certain exit, his exit. For months after we split I would gag or cry driving by said exit. There are really 4 routes into the city, I swear they ALL go by that fucking exit.
Eventually, my reactions became less and less, then I flew by it a few times without noticing…then voila. AAAAAAANd she’s Over it folks.
I made myself do the thing until I found my grace.

Young Un Number Two. Left without warning or reason. Fine, no big deal until…
I realized I dumped the baggage they left onto The Third.

One person doing something to you does not mean everyone will.
Have faith or suffer the consequences called self fulfilling prophecy. Faith is infinitely better.

I should not be holed up in a bunker with cats and soup and guns because some kids hurt my feelings. It’s a parable. Here’s another.
I was raped, I still manage to vehemently enjoy/crave/want/need sex with men. It wasn’t always the easiest thing for me or my partner, I would occasionally gag/cry, but that is something I refused to have taken away by the actions of one. (see also city visits.)

I took that exit to see Young Un the first maybe 3 times. Probably had to drive by it 100 to leave it in the past. Sex after rape, same ratio. Almost died in a car crash, took me 2 years to not panic behind the wheel, I kept driving.

Warning: Life may contain traces of or full blown traumatic experiences.
And nuts.
Also, the coffee and the stove are both hot, just sayin.

My brain would not let me forget things after my body had healed. Not okay brain, not okay at all.

We talked, my brain and I.
My body does not exist in that traumatic time or place.
On a molecular level I am not even the same girl who almost died or got raped…I have regenerated.
So, mentally I don’t have to be her either.

It’s my choice.

I chose to be here, in the present, doing everything as many times as I want to. Which is sometimes negative one.