Saturday, February 23, 2008

Tears Of A Clown

A little bit ago, Lani posted a blog about how she was the type of person to always put on a happy face, no matter how shitty she was feeling, and it reminded me of why the two of us were able to pick up our friendship from where we left off after being separated for years and years.

We're so alike.

I guess I should preface the rest of this blog with three facts so that you all don't worry and think I'm in trouble (I'm nothing if not self-aware):

1. I quit therapy.
2. It's PMS Week.
3. I'm dealing with a health issue right now that I'd rather not get into but really has me down.

Now on with the show.

I've often wondered if I'm maybe an undiagnosed manic depressive, ever since my teen years when I heard that Hendrix song. Wouldn't that just explain so much?

Sometimes I'm high, just cooning it up for all it's worth, writing like my life depended on it, ideas just pouring out of me from everywhere. And all's good with the world. Then, all of a sudden, at the drop of a dime, I'm crying and I can't stop, or bringing the definitions of "sloth" and "procrastination" to new heights.

Sometimes there's a trigger- like, I'll pass by the little card I got from grandma's funeral and see her picture and lose it, or I'll hear a song that reminds me of Bed-Stuy circa 1990 and I'll miss what my family used to be and it takes everything I have to actually get up and face the day.

But sometimes I could just be in the shower and start thinking things- not bad things, just things I have to do, have done, want to do, who I've become, all that mess- and my mind will go off on tangents so crazy and vast that I get overwhelmed and I can't breathe. I mean, really, who goes short of breath from thinking?!?!

And it feels weak. It is weak. And there's no room for weakness, right? So I just force myself to answer the phone, go out with friends, play with my kids, work, breathe, eat, live. I try and trick myself into believing that losing my faith all those years ago didn't break my heart. That not having a father is no big deal, and most certainly didn't affect my way of interacting with men today. That everything will be alright and that I'm in total control...

...I almost went to confession today at my local parish. I only got as far as my computer. Because frankly, even in my lowest of lows, I still firmly believe that asking for help, even from God, is for suckers.

* desperate need of some old school metal right about now*
or maybe I'll just look at that pic of Jack wearing G's shoes...that always makes me laugh...(thanks, love!!)