Monday, June 2, 2008

Down the Rabbit Hole

So I returned to the house that I call home and found it in more disarry than when I left it two weeks prior. Or perhaps it was just a different sort of disarray. In either case, I entered my sanctuary to find it slightly desecrated, yet neat. Piles and piles of things stacked in crates and bags and baskets and hidden in corners or behind the bed. In a few days when it slid into its now natural state of gargantuan clutter, I could not breathe while standing in my room, bugs crawling on my floor and bed sheet. Ew. I nearly had a panic attack standing there with this huge mountain of physical and metaphoric clutter about to topple onto my head. I could not think in there. It took me almost two hours to decide what to wear because my mind would not function.

I sat on a crate in the hallway outside of my door playing my guitar Tony. I couldnt play in there. One person then went into my room to listen to music and dress, closing the door in front of me. I played a bit louder, my tune staging an unsilent protest led by my spirit. Minutes later another person yelled to me from downstairs to play more quietly, I was interferring with the TV. With my spirit bruised but not broken, I played softly.

It felt like the dwelling of a truly depressed person. My rooms used to feel like this a lot. Damn, just when I thought I was finished with that. Is my depression now internalized? Latent, but not healed? Maybe I don't really want to know the answer to that.

And who am I to need a friend? Who am I to need a cigarette or a hug or a shoulder? I'm so strong, right? Yeah, so. I cry a lot, that's how I seem so strong. There are lessons in failure.

And so because there was this percived reality of me having no place of my own in my own home (a trigger for a traumatic childhood memory for me), I guess I had to get out of there... again. So I've returned to the place where I just spent two weeks awaiting my nephew's grand arrival. Home town Mil-town.

And now I have to do this really big thing. Not 'have to' as in obligated, but divinely appointed. Assisting in his ushering in. I think I'm ready... almost.

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