Emotions Suck

They really do.

No, I’m not talking about the happy kind. I am talking about the kind that attack you after hearing bad news, or seeing something terrible, or… like losing your job or something. Those kinds of emotions.

They hurt. You feel like you have taken a sucker punch to the gut, and you get dropped into this strange whirlwind state where your thoughts are going so fast you actually can’t think. Sitting in the eye of a hurricane would probably be the best analogy for that moment.

The world rocks, and the only reason you are still standing is because some strange part of your mind has gone into survival mode and plays nursemaid to the rest of your completely incapacitated brain. As you sit in the center of that storm, watching in wide eyed confusion, a piece of your consciousness takes you by the hand and reminds you to breathe, to blink.

This part of your mind is the only thing keeping you from screaming for the rest of your life. This part of your mind is how you can joke a little in the following moments. It’s how you have the ability to call someone to come get you, to remember to put on your coat, and coaches you through each step you take… for I don’t know how long.

These emotions, they are hard to take. They claw at your heart, clench your throat, obliterate your normal thinking pattern.

The next day, you wake up and for a moment everything is fine. Completely normal. Then the fog of sleep lifts, and the memories of that event, that conversation come crashing onto you like a wall of broken bricks.

It’s amazing what can get accomplished by muscle memory. They happen because your body just naturally goes through the motions. You get into the living room and looking down realize that you actually managed to dress yourself. Your shoes even match.

Piece by piece thoughts start to return. Fragments, really. Floating in ever so quietly. It might be the next day, it might take significantly longer, but you start to have opinions again. Food preferences, what you want to drink, how you want your eggs.

Don’t rush it. Let your mind come out of hiding in it’s own time. You wouldn’t want to startle it further by expecting too much too fast. If you do, you might not hear from it again for weeks.

Chocolate. Chocolate is good for the soul. I personally believe that if Lonnie had not picked me up with chocolate in his hand I would still not be functional. Sure I looked decent on the outside. Carried on a couple conversations, hugged relatives, gave goodbye kisses to little ones. But that was all being controlled by the nanny brain cells. The rest of my mind was curled up in bed willing the entire experience to be a horrible, horrible nightmare. That didn’t just happen. I didn’t just get told that. Everything is going to be fine, as soon as I figure out how to wake up.

But Lonnie had chocolate. I hadn’t told my husband anything yet, but he had brought me the perfect sanity tool. Besides himself, that is.

I still haven’t let myself get a hug from him. No. No hugs yet from Lonnie. You would need a mop and bucket to clean up after me. There is too much right now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after that. Maybe.

I will have to process this. Just not right now. Please, not right now.

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Outpouring Of An Eclectic Brain

He disappears

Though I see his face

His mind is gone

Without a trace

*

This is neglect

This is pain

His ear buds in

I talk in vain

*

Anime and

B rated flicks

I can’t compete

With Kung Fu kicks

*

So here I sit

Here I wait

Doing research

And plotting his fate

*

Really, more wives should look into writing poetry. Those momentary feelings of loss and anger when he needs his guy time are great emotions to fuel that new poem.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE2GCa-_nyU

This song gets really cool when you realize that there were only 2 instruments used in the making of the music. All the ‘percussion’ is from beat box sound effects by the cellist and maybe one of the other guys.

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Hopefully this wrist will heal quickly. While I can type, it hurts when I reach for things like the shift and enter keys. I have to move my entire arm to get to the backspace. grrr.

On the plus side this wrap he put on me (to keep my hand from moving wrong and irritating the strain) is too large for my dish glove to fit over.  Way to find the silver lining, huh?

Although I have yet to add to my ‘secret book’s’ word count, I have managed to put a few new thoughts into the plans for another book. So today has not been wasted.

I think (after icing this thing down from this typing session) I’ll see about adding a couple hundred words to the ‘secret book project’.

This really is too much fun: Having a secret.  It’s kind of exhilarating knowing that I’m the only person who knows what this little project is about.

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Alright! To the freezer for a bag of ice! 🙂

And maybe I’ll find a little acetaminophen, too.

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Keep Writing, You!!! 😉

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But I Will Not Cry For You

You raise my hopes

To watch my face fall.

You pull the rug.

You steal the ball.

But I will not cry for you.

I refuse to dance on cue.

*

You set me up

To go nowhere.

You watch my pain.

You don’t play fair.

But I will not cry for you.

I refuse to dance on cue.

*

You catch me

Just to earn my trust.

Then laugh when you

Give the knife a thrust.

But I will not cry for you.

I refuse to dance on cue.

*

In loving you

I know much pain.

Is this my life?

This hope-soaked stain?

But I will not cry for you.

I refuse to dance on cue.

*

So many un-cried tears

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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**Please understand it takes a lot of work to hold onto these melancholy feelings long enough to get a poem out. These are not cries for help. I am not in a bad marriage, nor am I suicidal. I am merely a writer doing her best to explore her emotions to write the best poetry her little heart can produce.**