Have you ever felt like you just needed to take a really deep breath and exhale a bunch of bullshit? Right now I feel like if I blew out hard enough it might become visible – like an inky black cloud. Or millions of tiny black bugs rushing out of my lungs.
It sorta sucks. I mean, I’m not used to this. I guess I’m one of those blessed few who doesn’t deal with dark days very often. Maybe I’m supposed to be learning a cosmic lesson about depression or something…anyway. I’m tired of feeling like this and just haven’t yet found the right pressure valve to let it all out.
I think I soaked up someone else’s sadness. Which is fine. That was the right thing to do. The least I could do really. I would do it again. It’s just that I’m a fixer by nature. And when someone I love has a problem that I can’t help fix…well, inky black cloud.
I could do without the insomnia however.
Two year olds are such intuitive little creatures. Aren’t they? Since all this began about a week ago, mine has hardly left my side. And in that way that she has, where she can be maddeningly clingy and at the same time the only calming force in my life, she has been begging me to pick her up and carry her around all the time. But what she says with little arms outstretched is, “Mamma, hold you.”
And I reply, “Yeah Baby. I would love for you to hold me right now.”