You look like a perfect fit for a girl in need of a tourniquet

18 Jan

I haven’t taken my pills in almost a month. A scratchy voice in my head nods and whispers maybe you should. But I feel no different. I feel honest. I stick my tongue out back, daring it to come and get me.

I feel sad and I for once embrace it, this feeling of blending with the rest of the humans. I feel happy and it’s just a peaceful feeling, born of a wild exhilarated joy and wonder. I feel tired, and ache with loss, and know this too will pass, in the wind, through my fingers, until my life is reborn as I wish.

I won’t not take them forever. But give me this, give me this now to feel. Give me a few precious weeks to just have what you all have-emotion with reason, feeling with need. Let me taste this treasure again.


I am so fucking worn down I broke down in front of my boss today, holding it in until he clearly knew what scab he was picking at, eyes boring into my face, relentless. I have been so solid through this-so focused on the girls, on a new life, and potential, that I had begun stuffing the pain inside me, the only side effects the razor blades in my throat and the heaviness of a new normal. I have been doing what I do best-focusing on everything and everyone but me.

And it’s left me tearful, and angry, and just a little lost, spun round and round until I really am pulsating, like some star ready to collapse. I grieve. I grieve my marriage. I grieve my lost future. I grieve the love I gave so willingly and easily. I grieve being loved. I grieve being scorned.

But I broke down in front of what basically amounts to a stranger. And he reached out, and asked what he could do, and here I am, with a week off to try and find my footing.  I have it, mostly, but I’m thrown by navigating those waters where you both care for and despise someone, where suddenly mama bear comes roaring out of the gate, blinded by the need to protect her babies. Waters where I realize I’m not the problem, that my being mad has nothing to do with how crazy I may or may not be.

I have a right to my fucking anger, and have denied myself this for far too long. I have done much of this to myself.

I just want it all to be over, this sticky web of miscommunication, anger, glossy hurt. I stare wistful at couples in hardware stores and think, that’s all I ever wanted, to be happy deciding together.  I stare at confident women in coffee shops and think, i could be her, save that lovely hair and glowing eyes.  I just want the aftermath, the 6 months later like in the movies where it’s all solved itself and I can crow into the summer morning light my lust for tomorrow and I have fabulous toned arms and I walk into the sunset, drinking wine.

For now, a week off, a rock show, many beers and a bath. It’s a start.


A compass is useless; also

trying to take directions

from the movements of the sun,

which are erratic;

and words here are as pointless

as calling in a vacant


Whatever I do I must

keep my head. I know

it is easier for me to lose my way

forever here, than in other landscapes.

(M. Atwood, Journey to the Interior)

15 Responses to “You look like a perfect fit for a girl in need of a tourniquet”

  1. slouchy January 18, 2010 at 10:18 pm #

    i am glad for you, that you have this week.

    be kind to yourself.

    much love.

  2. raino January 19, 2010 at 12:00 am #

    i love this. it’s beautiful. i love the way u write. u will be fine, u do know that right? yes, you do…

  3. Pamala January 19, 2010 at 1:21 am #

    Not to sound bitchy because I know you’re hurt (my husband left me in April mainly because he was in a manic phase and now we’re working through all the crap he put me through over the last year) but isn’t it a bit dangerous to be off them? Especially with the kids? What happens when the fall does come? Sorry I know, people say to be supportive and so forth but the fall always scares the shit out of me, especially when children are involved.

    • thordora January 19, 2010 at 8:52 am #

      It’s not bitchy, and in fact, I’ll likely go back on them soon because my emotional response has heightened-in terms of my hyper empathy, but nothing else. I don’t like being weepy(er). Trust me, if I thought for a second I was nearing a danger spot, I’d be back on them.

      I’m not so sick that I can’t recognize when I AM sick, which is a blessing. You’re right to be concerned. If it wasn’t for the girls, I’d likely try and stick it out longer than the next week or so. But I’m scared too.

      BUT, with all the stressors lately, I haven’t lost my shit, fell into any black rages, none of that. I’ve been ANGRY, oh hells yes, but no more so than anyone else I think.

      Is it weird to think a normal emotional range is a blessing?

  4. De January 19, 2010 at 11:46 am #

    “fabulous toned arms”

    you dreamer, you.

  5. Caitlin January 19, 2010 at 12:10 pm #

    Hang in there. The in between part sucks when you’re going through it, but it will be over soon than you think it will. The first few months were the hardest for me. I’m still not all the way on the other side of it yet, but I am at the point where I can see it. Life is something to be looked forward to again.

    I still have my rough days, where the house is too quiet or when a significant date passes. It still hurts a lot, but those days are not as frequent now. I don’t have the toned arms, but my confidence has been slowly returning in the absence of him shooting down my ideas and dreams before I’d had a chance to finish speaking them.

    I hope that this week brings something nice for you – you deserve to be able to relax and enjoy it.

  6. Hannah January 19, 2010 at 1:50 pm #

    Can we all spare a minute to send a little thank-you to your boss? Because it must be nice to work for someone who can see when one of their employees are hurting, and then takes positive steps to help.

  7. bromac January 19, 2010 at 2:48 pm #

    Maybe the husband in the hardware store beats his wife when they get home….maybe the woman looking so confident drinks herself to sleep every night.

    No one has what we all yearn for…that togetherness, that perfection. It’s just not real. Don’t beat yourself up for it. Someone who looks like they have it all together just does a damn good job of hiding it.

    I would say the ‘no meds’ scares me but I’ve been off meds since September and I feel better than I have since high school. Plus, I know you’re strong enough, intelligent enough, and maternal enough to know when you need them.

    Take care, dear.

  8. Anna January 19, 2010 at 2:55 pm #

    I’m in the throes. It sucks. Your writing brings me a little light. Just enough. The afternoon seems possible again instead of a moment by moment excruciating unraveling into nothingness. This is a very good thing. Thank you.

  9. Quadelle January 19, 2010 at 9:14 pm #

    Good on your boss. I hope you enjoy every day of your break and get some much needed space and refreshment. Take care of yourself.

  10. Terra January 20, 2010 at 7:24 pm #

    Take good care. And please be vigilant.

  11. kathleen January 21, 2010 at 10:45 pm #

    oh yes, you are in the dark place. i do think it’s good to give yourself a few weeks to really feel it, though i do hear what pamela is saying too.

    so glad you are getting some actual time to be still. your work over the next week is to sit in it, not get distracted from it, hate it, mourn it, grieve it. will be thinking of you. it won’t be fun, but oh! sounds just like the perfect thing.

    i’ve been there. you’ll surface, sooner than you think.

  12. lili January 22, 2010 at 3:15 pm #

    I’m sure it makes you nuts when people try to tell you to do stuff that is ridiculous(because I totally hate it) but I’m trying out affirmations because my thoughts are in the toilet. So for you:

    ~Love yourself—accept yourself—forgive yourself~

    Many hugs. That’s all I got.

  13. magpie January 25, 2010 at 11:09 pm #

    i hope that your week off was a good one.


  1. Tweets that mention You look like a perfect fit for a girl in need of a tourniquet « Spin Me I Pulsate -- - January 19, 2010

    […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Bipolar Blogs and thordora, thordora. thordora said: NEW POST: waxing lyrical and wishing I could write poetry again… […]

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