I don’t have a name for it.
It’s a feeling, instead.
It’s like a gremlin sitting on my chest, pushing the air out of me enough so that I can breathe in enough to stay alive, but not quite enough to get the feeling as though life is free and easy. I can picture this little gremlin – he’s green. Horns. Beady eyes. Pigeon-toed and knock-kneed.
I am very grateful for my life. Very, very grateful. I have the kind of life I never thought a loser like me would ever get to live. What I feel – and what I write here – is in no way a distraction from the degree of love I have for my life and those in it.
But I guess sometimes no matter how much time you spend sitting on a sofa, how much you stare inwardly at yourself through the shell you call your body, or how many tissues you cry your way through, sometimes the truth is there are those in the world who are prone to dark… to gremlins. Very rarely, I’ll get into a place where (gremlins again) I almost literally can’t talk. It’s as though it’s just too much effort to talk, to make conversation. It requires too much energy, too much spark, too much of something of which I am short of.
No matter how beautiful and full of light your life is, there can still be gremlins.
You wish things could change. You wish there could be peace and quiet in all parts of you. You wish people would stop demanding things of you in a way that make you feel like a tiny human being. You wish you would quit doubting that you could do those things people demand when you can, you fucking can. You wish time would either slow down or speed up but for Christ’s sake, stop just hanging out here. You wish you could reach out, be a better person. You wish you could be a better person. You wish you could just be better.
I still can’t sleep, and I’m tired all the time in a way that makes me feel as though I’m 80 years old.
I’m not stupid – I recognize this morning some of what’s going on. I got the blues, baby. I got the blues. Minor blues, it’s not major at all, just tinted that side of the spectrum. Too long of a winter here in the North. A fight with my hubby that we still haven’t resolved. Combination of many things.
Nothing else to do but pull myself up and keep going, right? The body wears out but the mind keeps going. I need to paint myself in rainbow colors, and I need to start with the gremlin. I need to stop feeling dragged through life backwards, naked, upside down through a field of cactus. I was sitting there thinking that instead of living life, life is living me. Only that’s, you know, a stupid thing to say.
I’m not sure what I set out to say here, so I’m going to stop talking now.