I sit and try to post. The cursor blinks at me.
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All the while I have so much to say but none of it seems to matter and yet it all matters so I sit and stare at the damn cursor.
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And it pisses me off because my fingers are tired and won't write. My brain is fatigued. My eyes are heavy. My heart beats that of a dead person.
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I buy shit on e bay and I keep buying books and nothing satisfies. I wander around the pharmacy and walk around and around and around. I buy some post-it notes. I don’t need post-it notes.
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Stop fucking blinking!
Stop fucking blinking!
I just want to have a sleep and wake up refreshed. Dinner will be cooked and the kitchen will be clean. My daughter will stop being snippy and be nice to me. My fiancé will pretend he gives a shit that I think I am going to die from grief.
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And yet, I can't write any of it. I talk to my counsellor and I look at her and try to remember what brought me there. I talk in circles. Surely she secretly thinks I am crazy.
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The tree outside my window (I named the tree Brianna) is full of birds. I stare out at them. They eat from their feeder. That is the extent of their worries for the day. These days I stare at the birds a lot.
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I don't want to eat anything. I want to go to sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. I don't want to go to parent/teacher interviews because it is all bullshit. How my kids did in school this term will have no influence on their lives 20 years from now.
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What am I to say? Where do I start? If I start writing I fear I will open up and there are not enough words to soothe my aching soul.
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My bra irritates me and I pull it down in frustration and wonder why the hell I am wearing it when it causes so much misery. Outside the birds squabble at the feeder. There is more than enough food for all of them. Greedy little shits. I hate them for their easy lives. I look again out the window. Our neighbours are going out for the 5th time today. I wonder if they are dealing drugs. Surely not. They are a lovely couple.
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I rub my eyes. The cursor keeps blinking. I watch it. Maybe I will go insane. Then everyone will take notice and click their tongues and feel sad for me. "So sad", they will say. And I will stare and the cursor and smile to myself
.
.
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Take off the damn bra.
ReplyDeleteOther than that, I can say nothing except that even in your sorrow, you are a writer.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Ms Moon on this one. Take the bra off. They're for comfort - and if you aren't getting that you don't need it.
ReplyDeleteFling the bra out of the window and fill it with bird seed, keep the birds happy..
ReplyDeleteFind something to beat the crap out of. Do something that lets you completely and utterly exhaust yourself from physically throwing out every bit of energy you've got at beating the living hell out of something. A giant stuffed animal, a mattress, anything. Beat the shit out of it till you fall down on your ass so reamed out that you can't even catch your breath.
ReplyDeleteThen start writing whatever it is you are wanting to write but won't for fear of never stopping. You'll stop. You'll live through this. I did. Many of us have.
We get it.
One foot in front of the other, and make a CONSCIOUS decision to be happy and get past this. Every second of every day, make that decision.
You will be ok.
I promise.
well for someone who has nothing to write and is staring at the blinking, you sure wrote a super post.
ReplyDeleteAbout the bra. I hate bras. Did you know that you can discreetly unhook your bra and move the straps a bit and pull the entire contraption off through your sleeve. This is proven. I've done this in the car (not driving - or at a long red light, in a restaurant and even in a crowded room and no one was the wiser. Such relief. I hate bras.
Keep writing.
I also wonder why you think that your heavy grief should be easing up so soon.
Birdie, this was one of my favorite posts, the writing was so genuine. You had me laughing over the greedy little shits one minute and feeling your grief the next. You are a writer for sure.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Wrinkling Daily. This is also my favorite post. The writing is brilliant. Let's have a bra burning party like they did in the 70's! Wouldn't that be fun?
ReplyDeleteHAHAHA - great post!
ReplyDeleteHope you will visit my blog and enter my GIVEAWAY!
Just Tututiny
Oh honey, I never wear a bra when I am at home. Why should you be so uncomfortable in a place that should be your sanctuary?
ReplyDeleteYou are a writer! This prose is real and raw and there is not a person alive who cannot relate to each word, each phrase, each observance.
This will pass but you must ride it through. Even if it feels there is no point to it...there truly is. My candle will burn for you today.
It is so nice to see that I am not alone in loosing my sanity at times.;)
ReplyDeleteI hope by now the cursor has stopped annoying you.;)
Thnak you for stopping by my place recently.;))
xoxo
Take it easy, it will come back
ReplyDeletei think we have the same cat :)
ReplyDeleteGood, you're getting angry.
ReplyDeleteSurely your books on grief tell you that that is the next step?
You are normal and your grieving is normal and everybody loves you but you need to hit out at those loving you because they'll take it. They are closest and therefore get it in the neck.
A lack of a topic has provided a topic.
ReplyDeleteYou can never have enough post-it notes. Write a wacky note and stick it somewhere public...on a pump at the gas station or something. Make somebody look twice and give em something to smile about...a wacky note in an unlikely place.
So many good comments on this wonderful, angry blog entry... because you are, in the midst of your grief and rage, a very fine writer, Birdie... so don't give up and give in... one day at a time, one blink at a time, and one day you'll really see how far you've come. Hugs!
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