You Don’t SOUND Fine…

I’ve never been a fan of the question “How are you?” People don’t really want to know how you are. They want to hear “I’m fine, how are you?” and then you move on to such other niceties as the weather and the kids. “Good morning,” also drives me nuts. I don’t do mornings well. I have learned how to mostly behave in these situations and parrot the appropriate words, but there are times when I wish I could just tell the truth. I had this conversation with a friend recently and it was nice to know that I’m not the only one thinking that all the time, but I wonder why we still go along with it. People don’t want the deeper relationship that means telling the truth. They don’t want to know that I slept OK, but only because I spent an hour or so last night drawing demons out on paper, and before that I had to meditate AND exercise, and that before that, right after I walked in the door, I was curled up in a ball in bed, in my flannel nest (it’s June in Southern California…I might have to give up on flannel soon, but dammit…that’s my NEST…it’s safe there), crying my eyes out because…well…teenagers. Girlchild knocked on the door at one point and said, “Mommy, are you OK?” “I’m fine.” “You don’t SOUND fine.” And yet I am. As fine as I was the day before and the day before that. Fine is some measure of average for the last X number of days. This is fine. It could be worse.

I’m back in the bathtub. (A series!) This image showed up in my head a few days ago, persistently and violently enough that I typed a description of it into my phone. I don’t remember where I was, but it was entirely inappropriate to be drawing bathtub pictures wherever I was.

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It’s not quite done. I think there needs to be a rug on the floor and maybe a dog or cat, or both, curled up on it. Maybe. Back to visualizing different parts of the brain interacting with each other. Except one is asleep. Or unconscious. Don’t let Freud into my head. I won’t come out alive. I like how the water hides stuff.

I was up late last night because girlchild was at her first concert without adults…she wanted One Republic tickets for Christmas, so we bought three and she took two friends.

And I was the parent in charge of making sure kids got home…it’s late afternoon now, nope, almost evening, and she is zonked out in her bed…she’s supposed to be going to her dad’s house and I need to go to the gym (but I need my blood sugar to stabilize before I go). I will need to wake her up soon or she will never go back to sleep tonight (there’s a temptation to just let her sleep all night, eh?).

My mood is in that place, that empty place. I wonder how I get from uber-sad and down and done with the world to this flat place. It’s Flatland. There’s nothing as far as the eye can see. It’s just flat dirt, no rocks or plants, nothing in the sky to give you a heads up on where you are or whether you’re moving at all. Everything is flat and dead. Maybe I cried it all out yesterday. There’s no emotion here. It’s just empty.

Last night, I was being watched…by Kitten.

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She is now coming out of my room at night to hang out in the living room with me and Midnight and sometimes Calli (they actually called her Calliope at the vet today…I had forgotten that was her name…Kitten’s name is really Holly…even more confusing). She hides from Babygirl…doesn’t like her. Barely tolerates Midnight…at least they can be in the same room together. I feel like I’m negotiating with enemy forces when dealing with the cats.

I had the chiropractor again yesterday, only two weeks after the last one…because the last one was so bad. It’s better now, but I got to be on the roller table again…

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Yup, that sucker is ANCIENT, but feels delightful. It’s called the Spinalator…

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which just makes me laugh.

See, I can laugh. And draw. And mostly teach and function OK, though not well…just OK. My decision-making powers are not great. I read a lot. I hibernate a lot. I don’t want to deal with things I should probably be dealing with. But I exercise and meditate and feed everyone and go to work every day. I have a to-do list and I try to do the things on it. I try to be normal. Well, normal for me.

So how am I? Huh. I don’t know today. That flat thing. I’m tired. I need to go to the gym. I need to work. I need to make art. At least I know those things. I don’t know much else. I guess that’s fine.

2 thoughts on “You Don’t SOUND Fine…

  1. Good morning! Okay, shoot. Not morning here or there now. How are ya? 😉 I’ve been mostly offline for a few days. It’s good in a way and a little too detached in a way, hard to feel my way back to attachment with the world. Haven’t read anything here for … 6 days? Well, maybe a little but not much.

    YES, NO ONE wants to know how you are. It is too confusing. They ask, but they don’t really want to know. Being “fine” or “fine-ish” is about as good as it gets sometimes. Even if you’re functioning well and fairly light-hearted and capable of “normal” interaction. But nobody (almost nobody) can cope with the details. I invited oodles of people, mostly people pretty close to me, to ask me about my illness. No. Scary. Even my kids have never asked, though in fairness their lives are very complex, too. (Son in AF pilot training; Elder Daughter going thru divorce after her husband’s affair; Younger Daughter has 5 kids, thyroid problems, and lyme disease…) Yeah, they have enough to worry about. But that leaves me disallowed from having any problems, myself…

    Sorry. Didn’t mean to make it all about me. Just again, yeah, I can relate.

    How soon is school out? Or maybe it is and I’ve missed it over the last few days…

    Like

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