KJPcreations

I’ve been a bit withdrawn from the world for what feels simultaneously like months and minutes. In full disclosure, I’ve been an acute mode of ‘getting through this.’ The ‘this’ changes alternately between big and small things; I’m getting through the work day or I’m getting through a painful past or I’m getting through rush hour traffic. If my life was a circus act, I think we’d be at the part where the lion tamer sticks his head in the mouth of the lion. The days are anticipatory and fraught with a controlled sense of danger. A good lion tamer never gets hurt but entertains us all the same with the threat of injury. I’m not entirely convinced the threat of my well being is entertained by anyone but me; it’s the kind of circus where I am both the audience and the player on stage. Look away. There is nothing of interest here.

Things like poor reaction to medication, reoccurring panic attacks and uncontrollable trembling in public are simply boring. These things are so early 90’s like baggy sweaters and raves. Is the darkness that occurs in all of our lives more fascinating after it’s all went down or as it’s going down. Is recovery or breakdown more scintillating? I ate a grilled chicken salad for lunch today and could barely eat a week ago. Is either detail of interest? My thumb on my right hand feels like it’s broken but only half of the time and I drink tons of water these days. In fact, I am part camel so put me in the desert and call me, Cheats.

This weekend, I am anticipating the Portland Saturday Market. My desire is to acquire some berries and some succulents. These are my intentions but sleep may win as sleep is like kryptonite to my heroic attempts at adventuring out into the world. The weekend could be the promise of a berry cobbler and a new cactus in the kitchen or the unraveling of non sequitur dreams and tangled sheets. My therapist tells me I am thawing out or coming back to life like when you leg falls asleep and feels all tingly and uncomfortable as it awakens. So there I lay, on the kitchen counter, wrapped in cellophane thawing and waiting, waiting and thawing. These things feel simultaneously like always and never. Only time will tell.