One Hour, Fourteen Minutes

“It’s an OCD day. My house will benefit from it! My daughter is hiding from this, my son embracing it.” Facebook status 2 hours ago.

“I don’t have enough meds to make the “world” in my head disappear. Maybe it isn’t all in my head. Maybe it is. Maybe the little fat fairies need to say something smart pretty damn quick.” Facebook status 46 minutes ago.

What the hell happened in one hour and fourteen minutes? 

I  heard the words again. The simple utterance of a single sentence that made my blood boil. My  stomach knot up. Leaving my head spinning and my eyes seeing red. 

Wakeing early this morning I just laid in bed waiting to hear the voices of my precisous children as they awoke from their own slumber. The night before was good, great almost. I discovered that while I am still technically challeneged, I think I am better than average. It felt like a small triumph being able to accomplish this silly little task. Even if it did take way to long.

My phone rang with a text greeting and then later with a phone call. 

Breakfast, just cereal. Kids being silly. Dogs rowdy. A smile gracing my face. Music in the background playing along. The variety of which I listen to it has no rhyme or reason. Nothing really has a theme.

Energetic. Slightly excited. I look at my house and think, “My goodness what a disaster.” The kids are putting puzzels together so I start in on the kitchen. Dishes first, then the stove. Put away pans. Clean the fridge. Look a beer! Laundry. Playdoh for the little ones come out. Sandra gives up quickly and asks to look at pictures on the computer.

I make a phone call. Check in. Have a text debate over some philosphical question. Miss a call. Return a call. Wait...there it is.  In a simple hour and fourteen minutes my ambtion turns to anger. 

Now I sit here, drinking that found beer. Bud light, glass bottle, hidden in the back of the fridge behind the butter. Almost knowing that today was it’s last day in the fridge. 

What happened in that small time frame? The answer can be one of several options. Or a mixture of all options. Perhaps just the odd ones.

What made me feel so threatened? So pushed against a wall that turned my ability to make the day one of accomplishments to one consisting of sitting here thinking and drinking a beer?

The question arose at some point in time today, do we conquer or embrace our thoughts? Can I have life skills for a hundred please? 

I am going to light my candle and meditate. The clarity of right mindfullness is yet to be achieved. With time, clarity, and knowledge, I will awake.

Soul, Heart, Mind...

“Dream all that your soul will allow, but give your heart what your mind knows.” ~ Desiree

I found this in an old poetry book of mine. I know it was written before 2001, the picture I found with it I was about 15. Therefore I think it was someting I jotted down around that time period.

Staring at these words combined with the words I heard tonight, I am heavy. The weight of wondering, debate, descion, judgement of who I am by me is choking me. No wonder I feel cornered by others when their judgements come to me. My own judgements of myself have me drowning in a river of self hate. 

Desperate for affection, approval, connection. What has this brought upon me? What has this done to me? Past and present actions have been driven by what I felt, what I could dream. I have always tried to be a rational person. Allow my mind to guide me. Thus rarely allowing my heart to lead, but my mind the guiding light.

Where has this left me? When your guiding light is a broken, dirty lamp, what can you expect but to become lost?

What kind of person am I? I am a person seeking for strength and sanity. The source of both are gone. I have no idea what my mind knows. My heart a source I cannot look upon. I am scared to know what kind of soul I have. It is tarnished with pain, disillusions, fear, loneliness, need, betrayl. 

When this life is over, we desire to be able to look back and say I was a good person. I have done no harm, if I did harm I tried not to do so again. When this life is over, I desire to say I loved and was loved. I accepted and was accepted. I meant something to someone, and to myself.

Mental illness is a struggle that will never end. I first must accept that. There is no cure, no pill, no exercise that will make this torment go away. Sanity must be overrated. 

Sitting, meditating, clarity being achieved briefly has brought about a small piece of calm. Tonight I wlll breath deeply, allow this to pass. See what tomorrow brings, what bridges I can rebuild. The decisions of what to do shall come to me. Patience, hope and faith in the fact that peace will come to me is necessary.

With the loss of the dreams my soul has or had, my mind will be unsure of what it knows, leaving my heart broken. Thus creating an insanity that does not allow for a chance of hope.

“Lose your dreams and you might lose your mind.” ~Mick Jagger

To Be Rational Or Not To Be.....

"When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago." -Friedrich Nietzsche

Sometimes I feel as though my mind has to recircle thoughts that were once placed upon a shelf as completed, concluded, and catalouged for reference only. 

What is it about my mind that awakens thoughts and memories? Some of which I truly believe should just be left alone. I wonder if these times of recollection and revisiting happen more often when I am going through spells of sleeplessnes or just tired, slumped with depression.

At what point in time can I, should I, force my mind to go from the chaotic mess it is and make it a rational place? Somewhere orderly, logical, with less emotion and muddle. 

Being able to break it all down and say this is why, logically speaking. Thus ending the confusion and turmoil. Would it also end some enjoyment, thrill, and happiness? Does rationalizing everything cheapen the experience we call life? Knowledge brings with it a power, but could it also bring with it a sense of loneliness? If however, we are able to rationalize everything then we would know that we would not need to have companionship beyond the necessities. 

Am I able to do that? Seems I would lose some sense of compassion in the process. Can logic and reason go hand in hand with compassion? Love logically cannot exist, but can compassion?

If we are able to rationalize everything, then perhaps nothing would be unexpected. At least once broken done. It would make sense. A happened  thus causing B. Emotions are caused by the chemical makeup that...blah blah blah.

No, I do not think I can become a rational person. I am forever a chaotic, muddle mess of a person. My only hope is the knowledge I seek about myself does not make the chaos within worse. Just organized in a way that a cluttered, free-for-all, disaaray type of person knows how to organize. I wonder, does that make any sense?

Logan's Laundry

My son loves the new front loading washer. Every time he hears mommy say I need to check the laundry I hear the soft pit pat of feet directly behind me. 

Once we are in the laundry room he opens the dryer and pulls the clothes out and hands them to me while I fold. Then he opens the washer and puts the clothes into the dryer. Shuts the door and waits for me to tell him which buttons to push. Then I place a pile of clothes on the floor that he puts into the washer. Pile gone, door shuts, buttons.

This little routine always ends with a high five, knuckles, and blow it up!

I wonder when he will stop finding this to be fun....