Krazy Carma

I am not sure how I am handling myself at the moment. I don’t want to sit here and use everything thing that is happening around me as an excuse for the rollercoaster of emotions that flip and loop inside me, but perhaps they are right… Maybe I do internalize things.

Anon: Say it
ME: No
Anon: Say it… you will feel better
ME: No. I will feel like a fool.

I already feel like a fool. If I was my friend I would have slapped me around a long time ago. No, my father is not an excuse. “I don’t care how hard a time they think you are going through Miss Graham, get your shit together and stop behaving like a shadow of yourself! And don’t cry when I say this to you, just because you know that it is true.”

Anon: Stop being so hard on yourself
ME: Am I?
Anon: Yes. You should give yourself a break
ME: I feel like I am on a permanent break.

But really I am not. I cannot escape dreams that keep me awake at night. Dreams that feel so real that my heart starts racing, I feel punched in the face and awake to a tear soaked pillow. I drive to work in the morning with a vague idea of the dream, but when I sit I at my desk I just feel stripped, empty and sad. I drink my coffee, share anecdotes with my friend, perk myself up until I am running around the office, singing out loud, strumming my air guitar and flicking my hair while pretending not to hear them comment on how much fun I am. It is fake and within minutes I am head down at my desk wondering when 4.20 will arrive.

Anon: You know I love you
ME: I am not crazy. I know I am loved. I know that this is all normal. I know I am just going through the motions, but I want to move on now.
Anon: You will when the time is right.
ME: What you Yoda or something? What is ‘the time is right’? Am I not master of my own destiny? Can I not make the time? Can I not turn the wheels myself and get the motions moving?
Anon: Yes, but you won’t.

Who can argue with that?

Another round of dreams last night and I won’t bother repeating them to you. I know what they mean, I know where they are coming from, and although my pillow was dry this morning, the empty feeling in my heart is there all the drive to work and not even a hundred cups of coffee could cure the chill-blains left from the hot, cold, hot and cold wind chills.

Dad: We are not going to sit on the pity wagon
ME: No we are not!
Dad: We are going to be strong, tell them to “Bog Off!” Everything will work itself out.
ME: Yeah you are right
Dad: And if it doesn’t you’ll look after your mother right?
ME: And if it doesn’t I am sure the inheritance you leave us will cover putting mum in a good home.

Thank goodness my father taught me the art of laughing at oneself… I am laughing.