Right, well then. I know I should update my last post, which ended with a few paragraphs on suicide? What the fuck? When my brain is broken, it's kind of a creep.
Obviously it's still broken, or not-broken, or the same as it has been. Not life, I mean, but my brain. I'm still depressed. But I don't feel depressed.
Just now I'm getting a headache because the storage closet to my immediate right is reeking of fresh paint and something fake-orange. But never mind. I was saying.
I haven't been so bad for the last week, mood-wise. I'm still not eating as much as I probably should be, and I sometimes crash at night. Generally, though. Generally things are stabilizing. Outside my brain, in life, things are looking up in some key ways.
One very small example is how my nervous energy translated into a CLEAN SWEEP recently, and I completely emptied that storage closet I mentioned. Most of the stuff is in boxes now, headed for the basement, which is getting less and less like the basement in Silence of the Lambs since the renovation. So I didn't really get rid of much, I know, but I made some steps. Probably if I didn't live at home, these are steps I'd have taken at, what, eighteen? But there's no fun in that. Then you don't get to find your giant Papa Smurf doll when you're twenty-five and be all nostalgic and muttering. Not to mention the binders of letters and shoe boxes relating to people you don't talk to anymore. Which isn't fun. Actually, a lot of it isn't fun, but I powered through it anyway with moderate emotional outbursts, like the Jetson's maid. Now the closet's empty and very uplifting, except for the cancer-smell of paint, I mean. Soon it'll be full of bookshelves and then a lot of books will come down from their stacks and find a home. Just like the boll weevil. I'll treat them mighty nice.
And then there are bigger, better things, like friends and new friends and stuff. It's just the closet is easier to describe. Like the person said, I'd have written you a shorter letter if I had more time. I can't stop babbling right now, so I have to pick my subjects carefully.
If none of this made any sense, I blame the paint.
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3 comments:
Where is my comment? SIGH?
I love a good Clean Sweep. But somehow the stff I mean to throw out always seems to end up in garbage bags in my room for six months after.
WE MISS YOU.
There have been no news as to Happy's health. She a healthy puppy these days? i think moss might need some happy time.
Blogger eats comments like it knows how much I need them and wants to hurt me.
Sachi - I too suffer from the garbage bag problem, but having a basement to stuff them into is very handy. Wrong but handy.
Carolyn - Since you wrote the above, you've seen Happy for yourself. She's definitely as close to being a healhty puppy as she can get. I'm very grateful.
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