bare floor, bare

29 Dec

My house is a mess.

The toys are strewn across the floors and I can’t find it in me to pick them up one.more.time, unless of course it’s into that mythical blue garbage bag of “outside for the other kids”. There’s coats and spoons and cats on the couch, magazines and books, pencils and cd’s and I know nothing is where it belongs by the corralling of these things, the hemming in, it feels impossible, unwieldy, like a broadsword strapped to my back I haven’t the energy to heft. It weighs on me, like a puff of smoke and the universe, all together, singing hymns.

It’s the same in conversation, animated, enjoyable, real conversation with people who I enjoy, with brains that engage me in ways I so rarely find, who challenge my words in a good way, make me think. But I find myself staring bemused into the distance, barely able to marshall my brain around to focus, to sit in this moment and be with these women, enjoy the giggling serious talk I’ve been craving for so long. I stare at my hands and wonder why it’s so hard to stay in this place, with these voices. I drift, that puff of smoke sitting on my head, wiser than I yet not, tamping me down like tobacco.

It’s like I’m not even here, floating around like a whisper. I hear the voices of my children but they’re dim, I hear the mutterings of responsibility but dash them off with a flick of my hand, determined to slip past it. The pressures of being alone, weighty, hug tight to my scorned back, slow me. My pennant in this race is black and red with ire.

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6 Responses to “bare floor, bare”

  1. charlie December 29, 2009 at 7:19 pm #

    i know exactly those feelings for six wks i am still stuck in this void and cant escape just think there has to be a light at the end of the tunnel take care best regards all the best

  2. Quadelle December 30, 2009 at 6:58 am #

    I can relate, all too well with much of this. I spend so much time craving adult conversation, but then struggle to engage with it when it presents itself.

  3. Vicki December 30, 2009 at 10:13 am #

    I crave adult conversation and then when I get around the adults, I talk about my kids. It’s funny that you get an adult to talk to but you discuss toys and how many times your child pooped in the potty. So much irony there.

  4. Hannah December 30, 2009 at 4:57 pm #

    I noticed that you were there/not there. But the times when you were able to engage you were so much your funny, acerbic, loving self that I was amazed…

    It was wonderful to see you. And we’ll do it again soon. Promise.

    • thordora December 30, 2009 at 5:21 pm #

      Yeah, I was trying to be present….it’s hard some moments, and I hate it. I’m really hoping we can all have a weekend in Jan/Feb to really sit around and yap. I need it, as I think we all do. 🙂

      Thanks for being here! I did have a good time.

  5. sweetsalty kate December 30, 2009 at 9:48 pm #

    I remember feeling that way. I remember being in relatively competent conversation and not feeling like a complete mess and then suddenly my head would be attached to my neck by a tether, elsewhere, tugging, and all I could think was “They haven’t seen a dead baby. They haven’t seen a dead baby. They don’t know. They were spared.”

    …and I’d sit there just staring into space and welling up and fighting the urge to run away. It was just so shocking to me. It wasn’t logical to think that way. Nor was it fair. It was entirely unbidden.

    I don’t know what the monologue is, when your head escapes you and you feel haunted and not present. But I can imagine it’s a similar sort of grief, shock. Feeling alone. Just because that’s normal for what you’re going through doesn’t mean that represents who you are. You’ll snap back into yourself with some time, gradually.

    You are who Hannah saw. That’s what people see. Don’t worry about the shock and the tether. I imagine people who love you see that too, and they understand. I would. xo

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