I feel lost. I'm aimlessly wandering, not really sure where to go. I took a hot bath and read for a while. Now I'm just sitting here. I booted up the computer and have gone from here to Facebook to Myspace to reading blogs to checking my email, and back here. I figured since I keep coming back here, I might as well write, though I'm not really sure what to say. I've been trying to articulate what I'm feeling all day to those around me, but it seems that I'm just not capable of making them see the turmoil that is running in my head. I keep saying 'I hurt' and they say 'I'm sorry' but they're not really sure what they're sorry for, because really, they can't know what is inside. It hurts. Wow does it hurt. I'm lost in memories, and even when I'm not actively thinking about those memories, the feelings they leave behind are still there. Still screaming in my head. I'm still feeling the emotions. I can't even explain it. It's this over taking fog. This whirlwind that I can't escape. It doesn't even make any sense. I just know that this is how I feel. I don't really know what 'this' is, but it is there.

I want to go back to bed. I'm tired of hurting and I'm tired of thinking. For days now I've been having nightmares, bad dreams, even bad lucid dreams. If that makes sense. Like I'm laying in bed in a fog, not asleep, but not really awake either, incapable of leading my mind in any direction at all, subject to it's whims, it's morbid curiosity, it's horrible desire to relive all of that. I hate it. But even through all of that, I can't help but want to go back to bed, stay there in those lucid dreams and feel the weight of my limbs, incapable of moving. It doesn't make any sense, but it's how I feel.

And now I'm to suck it up, stuff it down, and head off to town with my family for some quality time. And as a random note, men are like small children. Don't ever send them to look for anything, because you will eventually just have to get up and get it yourself anyhow. So don't waste your breath, or your irritated scowls when they don't find it, right where you told them it was. Off rant.
0 Responses

Post a Comment

  • I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
    This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
    Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
    Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.