Inside my screwed up mind

Why are we here, out on the internet except to get a glimpse inside other people’s minds? To feel better about ourselves? To just vent out what we need to release? Who knows. I certainly don’t. I just spew.

One of those days. Haven’t we all had them all? Who cares. I try not to.

There is a canyon. A deep, dark canyon between me and what is important to me. I walk. Music on. I walk and walk. The day trips over itself in my mind.

I walk past the houses. Not the kind I am used to: they are something still new to me. Beat up cars that don’t run. Kids with no toys. Pregnant women walking home carrying groceries from a store quite a far distance if you are walking. Lots of people out tonight. I say Hi and good evening a lot more than I do on morning runs when there is no one around. They all answer with words in a language I do not understand.

The music thrums within my ears. I walk faster. To escape or to arrive. I know not which. My boss hurt me today. After 10 years together, knowing me as well as my father, he (in a sense) said he didn’t trust me. I asked if I could work one day from home to save on gas. He wasn’t “comfortable with that.”

Oldest kid had some car problems which I should be able to help with, but I only have enough gas to get to work for two more days. And three days left in the week. Wondering just how I got here.

Walk on. Music hums. Left the house because I couldn’t take hearing the 17 year old. Sweetest kid I gave birth to, but something snaps in their heads at that age. She doesn’t understand “choices” we made to not be successful. She is sure Dad could go out and get a job if he just wanted to.

Walking into a different world. New house. Big houses. It’s getting darker. Now I can see inside. Admire their lovely, private yards with their screened tents. I remember my wrought iron patio set. A gift from my beloved friend when  her husband suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at the tender age of 38. Her little girl at home with him while Mom visited her oldest daughter. A fraught phone call to me because “Daddy won’t wake up.” Our arrival before the paramedics. Mr. Vixen shaking a body I already knew was empty: yelling at him…”NO NO NO, you can’t do this to Rita and Lindsay!!!” Me dragging him away, saying “honey, its too late.”

I miss that set. I have no place for it. Had to leave it at the property. At the time, I thought that because they were family…close family…it would still be there when I could get it. These days, who knows.

Nice houses. Nice music. I miss a garage, a yard, privacy. Hate people being able to look in your living room everytime they go to and from their cars. Hate having to lock myself inside and close all the windows, doors and blinds so I am not stared at. Youngest thinks we are not successful. She drives a convertible. That we bought her just a year ago. Oh hell, she is 17. I remember 17. You know it all. You know how you would react to everything. You have it all planned out. Life would never dare interfere with your plans.

We had it all ten years ago, maybe even five. Life happens. Now I walk. It’s not so bad. The music is good. And it’s better than going to sit in the corner and get drunk which is what I would have done six months ago.

Home now. Done walking. It’s dark and, frankly, frightening out on these streets at this time. At home there is still a canyon. Mr. Vixen, still devastated from conversation and lack of proper medication, is already asleep. Youngest is angry that I don’t understand. I don’t hear.

But I do. I don’t think she is wrong. I just don’t think she has ever walked in my shoes. And until she does, we can’t connect. I leave the music in my ears even though I am inside.

Because I am not really here. I am still out there….walking.

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17 Comments

  1. Wow. 17yos are freakin’ morons and we both know it. I also know how difficult it is to ignore those pointed comments and surly attitude. I did not know about your change in lifestyle. My spouse has been unemployed 4 times in our 22 years of marriage. I understand exactly how you are feeling. When one goes from 80K a year to unemployment to nothing it is so surreal. Spouse was laid off 3 months before Brennan was born and got a job a month after he died. A job paying $10 bucks an hour. We had to do bankruptcy and we waited too long cuz of our pride. We tried so hard to save the house. I had lost my son, my ability to have more children and my mom in 12 months in the midst of the financial crap. I have so been there.

    If you need to keep walking to stay relatively sane do so. You have to take care fo yourself because who else will?

    If you ever need to talk let me know and I’ll get your number or give you mine. My calls are all free or rather part of my cable, internet, digital phone package.

    HUGS! Empathy and good vibes.

  2. Wow, I’m so glad I stopped by. This was so powerful. Poetic. Wonderful. Beautiful. Touching. I’m not even sure what to say after something like that, but I’m touched and hoping for good things to come your way.

  3. oh this was beautiful.. such serenity resides in that canyon and as i walked thru it with you,, it made me feel lucky to have nothing,, and want less…

  4. I’m at a loss for words, but please know that I am praying for you.
    (((hugs)))

  5. Once again, you manage to take something painful and alchemically turn it into beauty.

  6. I’m praying right now for some peace and comfort to come into your upturned world.

  7. Wow – SELL HER CAR to buy yourself gas!!! She’s 17, she can get a job to buy her own car!!! Then she’ll be much closer to understanding why you’ve made the decisions that you’ve made. Everything changes when you start paying for your own stuff. :0

    I think it was a great idea to ask to work from home 1 day a week to save gas, bummer he said no! – I sure wish that was something I could do, unfortunately my job tasks require me to be here physically.

    Drill here, drill now, pay less!! $$$$$$$$$$

    And I hope you have a great Wednesday!! 🙂

  8. It’s okay mom. Just do what I do on days like this and imagine that house that is now ash as it once was. Imagine walking through the front door, the dogs barking in the backyard, Bear making lunch in the kitchen. Dad watching cops at the tv. Imagine Kayla crawling around trying to make it up the stairs. Trying to climb over the baby gate. Imagine CT in his room, loud booms and bangs coming from the speakers on his computer as he plays battlefield and My hubbs stoking a fire in the pit. Pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down at that iron table out back. Just sit. Relax. Pet Duchess. Yell at Don Juan to stop yapping at Devon. Just take it all in. This is where I like to go on days like this.

  9. MacD

    I like that Shan. I think I’ll join ya mom, it’s been a while since I sat next to the fire pit with you. It sure feels good though.

  10. Mar

    “Everything will be ok in the end, and if its not ok then its not the end”.

    Hang in there friend… I wish I could walk with you.

  11. I’ve been there! My Avias are my drug of choice. Keep walking! Wishing you peace. Every day I find it far from the homestead, from people, from noise. And I bring the silence back to create greater strength. There is power in that kind of no comment to the surly ones.

  12. that was powerful and well written from the deep part of the soul..I have been there where the walking never ends..

  13. Keep on walking. That’s the only way to get from the place you are to the place you are supposed to go. Watch for the Beauty.

  14. *HUGS* Oh honey, I’m sorry things are so tough! I sure hope they get better soon! *HUGS*

  15. i love you. to me, you are one of the biggest success stories ever.

  16. Sweetie, I’m soo sorry to read this. I understand your choices and I’m sending you a hug hoping to take some of the pain and sadness away from you.

    Love ya

  17. Finally I have found a bit of my way back to the blog world your last post throws me back a few years and then a few years again and I get goosebumps remembering, re-feeling. Oh my Vixen fried, I feel for you. How there were sometimes those moments when a choice was made between prescriptions and food to make sure the kidlets didn’t go without.

    Why it seems these choices all come at us when we feel least prepared to handle them.

    I am thinking of you Vixen. Right now even more than before. My mailbox is open and I made sure it won’t “accidentally” block a mail from you.

    I hope to hear from you soon

    Cindi

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