Wednesday, March 4, 2015
I walk by my home and see the same structure- surrounded by the same plants, the same neighbors, the same bench- that I love. Inside I know that the kitchen, and the bathroom, and the walls- everything is the same (minus furniture) as what I loved.
The cats- my beautiful little animals- are running around, or sleeping, or eating. They must be much the same. I miss them.
Coming home at night, sleeping in our (old) bedroom, cooking in the kitchen, sitting in the basement- my husband. A person who has meant more to me than anyone else. I can't see him, I can't touch him, our life together is irrevocably altered.
I live in a space that is alien. I don't know, can't change what I dislike about it. It is hostile, and dark. Its not my home.
In the future, another person could move in & share what was once my home with him. Could live with my cats, loving them as I no longer can.
I walk by this home and feel as if I could hurtle myself against its outward walls, just to feel a remnant of the life I lived there.
I'd like to sell this house.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
'you are my wife, and my life'
amidst the catastrophe that
you worked, you said
I thought we had made it over a type of mountain.
the other day you ripped
me from this
apparent delusion.. illusion.
there is nowhere
nowhere that is not
I could move
but then where would I be?
I can stay but here I am.
imagining the future
you and she
you, not with me.
my home, not my home
my family, not my family ( and this is not future, but present )
I've never felt anything
its a shock, all the time
I go in and out of consciousness
a deliverance from my own mind
one month ago I felt fine.
I am not ok.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
i miss in a way that
cannot be politely
i miss like
I miss an abstraction of human and animal and material and amorphous LOVE
of sense that there is beauty in the
( there is there is but not so unlimited not so localized
or reliable )
sitting, quiet, loving, figuring, analyzing and utilizing
or just wasting time
on the giant WHY THE FUCK
I very, very much
Thursday, February 26, 2015
as a kid, I was very smart. lots of kids are smart. I played sports well, did well in school; I didn't have a lot of issues.
when I was 14, I started to have mental health issues. for the most part, run-of-the-mill teenager problems.
when I was 16, I tried to kill myself by drinking Mr. Clean. I don't recommend this. it makes cleaning the bathroom difficult. when I was 17, I attempted suicide by taking all of the pills I could find. I didn't die that time either.
I spent some time in the hospital. I moved into special education.
at 18, I found a job. a year or so later, I got the opportunity to move to NYC, living in my grandfather's apartment. while there I started school at Hunter. I really liked Hunter, I do recommend it. it has no impact on cleaning the bathroom.
at 21 (one month or so into Hunter), I lost my mind. I think that's the best way to put it- its like you can't find it. I spent a bunch of time in psychiatric hospitals, eventually attempting suicide again.
( I used to make a joke, as a kid,
that when someone attempted suicide,
it was just
one more thing they
couldn't get right
I stopped taking medication a few months later because it didn't seem like I needed it. I spent 7 years of mostly smooth sailing- I met my husband, moved to a city I love, bought a house, yada yada. I then had my second manic / psychotic break. they only get worse.
last year, I had my third. they only get worse. this year, I've been maintaining my sanity. that is awesome / something I recommend. that helps my ability to clean the bathroom.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
the first step is
admitting you have
& then to hold out
til later, and then maybe, forever
no more little loves
no more 'home'
truth all around
than the known
that is unacceptable
late at night
during the day
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
I've added a somewhat crass feature, which I'd prefer to have avoided. I've never wanted compensation for this blog, which has always been a pleasure (more so as $ has not been involved.)
My preferred form of support / currency is sales of weavings, but I do not make a living from those. I understand that the price of a handmade weaving is too high for many.
The idea behind the donate button is to ask that- if you can & are inclined to- readers make a small contribution to keep the blog alive. It requires certain resources. And I'd love very much to continue doing it indefinitely.
Whether or not you choose to contribute, please know I'm glad you're here.