I needed a minute
To gather myself
Picking up the pieces I dropped along the way
I made it here in one piece
Only one piece of the jigsaw puzzle
–
I needed a minute
Before you noticed me
And yelled at me to come inside
Let me find my grit
And smear some on my face
For you
Or for me
I’m not quite sure
–
I needed a minute
To breathe
To think
To not breathe
To not think
–
I needed a minute
Without you
Just a minute
It’s dark in here. And cold. I don’t like the cold but the dark is kinda nice. It wraps me up so your pity cannot see me.
I’m not sure how I got here or how long I’ve been. I have no idea how long I’ll stay or how I could leave if I wanted to.
Do I want to? I don’t even know what’s outside anymore.
I want to drive and meet people.
I don’t want to drive and meet people.
I need to pack.
I’m excited to pack?
Leave me alone so I can pack.
What do I need again?
Put things in the car. Don’t forget.
Get gas. Wait.
Run errands. Hurry.
Maybe coffee will make me feel…how I’m supposed to feel. Why, I have no clue.
Remember. Don’t forget.
People are waiting.
Pull over. It’s too much. I can’t see.
Breathe.
Driving fast. Novel sights, new smells.
Stimulation.
Breathe.
Get there.
Missed turn. Racing heart.
Drained.
Engine cuts out, so do I.
Resist the urge to run. Keep driving.
Moving fast feels like standing still.
I’m here.
Get out of the car.
I made it.
Say hello to my new Depression Translator.
Me: “Hi. Where’s the bathroom?”
DT: “Hello, friends. I am happy to be here but I’m depressed, exhausted, and fear human interaction. I’m going to go hide in the bathroom for a moment and try not to cry and/or hyperventilate. It may take me a while to calm down and warm up to this social situation. I’m sorry if I seem weird or rude. I know how this must look. I can’t seem to fix it. But I’m here. I made it.”
I feel the need to accompany content like this with disclaimers because I’m aware that I’m writing for an audience. I want to normalize depression and anxiety and I want to suck the stigma out of it. I want to normalize expressing depression and anxiety because that’s healthy. I fear judgement for writing stuff like this, but I feel compelled to do it nonetheless. Take from it what you will, and leave your advice at the door. Thanks.
I’ve realized I need to remind myself that the world is not ending.
Somewhere along the way, I figured all the stores are closed and school is closed, so I should be too.
This is it. Accept it. We don’t get nice things anymore.
But then I hear other people are going out.
Having experiences.
Seeing people.
Doing things.
Living their lives.
And then I remember. Huh. Maybe I should too?
Staying home is nice.
Safe.
Warm.
Comfy.
But is this what I want?
I’m so tired.
Weary.
Sad.
Numb.
But is this what I want?
Sometimes I don’t know what I want.
Oftentimes I change my mind.
Or my mind changes me.
Just remember, self: the world is not ending
And neither are you.
Day 22: Pepper Day!
Used up
empty
never enough
yet still pretty
in its emptiness
the little flecks
of ground-up energy
paint the sides
like sand left behind after a wave on the beach
nice while it was here
but now it’s gone
all too soon
Day 19
I saw a rainbow today
It started out faintly
And it was only a few degrees of curvature
At first
But then
The showers persisted and the sun pushed through the clouds
It happened gradually
Until I could see the entire beautiful arch
Shine brightly against the dark sky
I turned my back to take a selfie
And I was blinded by the
Bright. Warm. Sunlight.
Day 4
what if you just started writing
to see what came out?
like clawing up a big rock
that was slunk halfway down
into the damp soil
earthworms, rolly pollies wiggle underneath
not eager to be disturbed.
like excavating a dusty old box
you found in the attic
in the corner, under a pile of photo albums
musty papers, keepsakes, ticket stubs, diplomas
memories
seep out of pores
impossible to arrange back in
the way you found them.
masks
wipes
spread
quarantine
shelter
flatten
curve
homeschool
sanitizer
testing
antibodies
reopen
protest
asymptomatic
immunity
pandemic
Covid.
fear
panic
hypervigilance
numbness
lost
lonely
anxiety
anticipation
faith
kindness
love
hope.
I have a sick child
pjs for all; house-bound
Frozen sing-a-long!
My little girl
letting me braid her hair for the first time
had to do it on the sly
while she watched Frozen for the first time
so full of questions
who is that? why was he mean?
told her she’d look just like Elsa
with her beautiful braid.
You know how when you’re traveling with kids on a plane your only goal, besides getting to your destination, is that your kid not be the worst-behaved child on the plane?
Not the loudest? Not the most screamy?
Well, today we failed.
We tried and we failed.
We had a great vacation, and now it’s over. On one hand, I’m really happy to be home and have my own space and privacy. But on the other, all our support is gone and now we have to go back to doing everything ourselves.
And oh my GLOB, Oregon is freaking cold.
In closing, a haiku:
Get me through this flight
Crying, screaming, thrashing, sigh
I am so tired
NaBloPoMo Day 28
Psychobabble 