A Glimpse into the Chaos

It's just after midnight and I should be sleeping. Maybe it's the rush of cool air against my heated skin that keeps me awake, or perhaps that bloated orb nestled within the dark heavens above me that stirs something wild within... Either way, I don't want these memories flashing behind my eyes with a razor sharp clarity. Memories of moments of 2013, just as Dad got sick... Things I thought I'd moved away from, buried within the blissful silence of my memory warehouse...

Now they're screaming inside my head, painful lashes of emotions I fought so hard to forget, tearing open the scars I thought had finally begun to heal. It wasn't a conscious decision to blank them out. It was as though I had simply gone forward when parts of myself went missing. I thought they'd come back a piece at a time, like the new growth of a forest after a terrible fire turned the world into nothing more than ash. 

But this has been relentless these past few days. A tirade of images and sensory memories unlike anything I've experienced before.

Perhaps it's my brain's way of finally cleaning house. Forcing me to deal with this avalanche built up inside me over the past two years and I can do nothing more than dig in my heels and hope I can claw my way out from beneath the debris when it finally settles.

I'm going to try and sleep. A few hours is better then nothing at all. When I awake, maybe I'll have good dreams to add to this.

-good night- (12:11am)

(Returns at 6:35am the next morning)

I glance up into the glowing horizon and it's not the Red Tail's silhouette that greats me, but a lone mourning dove directly across from me on the power line. It's an odd sensation, knowing this bird sings a sad song for the mate it lost. I call back to it and it immediately responds, desperate to connect again. I know this because as I took a short walk to the store yesterday with my roommate's daughter and on our way back, I saw this lone dove just above us and called out to it. It turned it's body to peer down at me, almost urgent in its movements, which I found odd. I took not a step forward when something told me to look down. There, nestled against the curb where the street met the sidewalk was the body of a mourning dove, laid out on it's back with its head turned away from the street. My heart sank. It's also then that I realized it may have very well been the Red Tail that caused it's untimely death.

Interestingly enough, I have not seen the Lady Hawk yesterday or this morning. I've seen her every day, sometimes more than four times, up on her perch or flying overhead. What's odd about yesterday was not only the dove, but that in the early morning as my roommate's daughter and I were heading for the car so I could take her to school, when I got to the driver's side door ready to unlock it, I heard the distinctive purring meow of a cat behind me. I stopped, blinked and turned toward the sound. There, not six feet from where I stood was a young black cat with stunning golden/amber eyes. "Hi baby!" I exclaimed softly and took a few steps toward her, noticing that when she responded she physically lurched her body toward me but wasn't sure. "Well come here shuga, I'm not gunna hurt you." And held my hand out. She immediately trotted over, tail raised and sniffed my hand before head bumping it, accepting the offering and wanted more affection. I crouched beside her and started petting her, brushing off random leaves from her dark brown fur. My roommate's daughter had ninja'd out of the car and was standing cautiously to my right, about a foot away wanting to meet the young black cat. "Come here sweety, come say hi." I cooed gently and while closing the distance between us, motioned with my hand for the young feline to follow. She obliged and happily greeted her. 

I noticed then that she had a bit of bulging stomach. "I think it's a girl, and she may be pregnant." I thought aloud and my roommate's daughter agreed. I glanced in the appropriate area and my instinct was confirmed. "Yup, she's missing the equipment for a boy." We both kind of chuckled. 

We had to go, so I gave her a few more pets and told her I'd be back and as I started for the driver's side door, she seemed to think she was coming with me and started following. I told her she had to wait and motioned for her to go around the car, which she did. We got in, put on our seatbelts and watched as the tiny black panther trotted over to the head of the car, close to the sidewalk. As soon as I started the engine she startled and ran back to the spot I first saw her, so I knew she'd be fine.

-pauses to take another drink of her coffee and glances up. Finding two mourning doves facing her instead of one-

Hmm, odd indeed.

So as you may have read previously, the section I typed out from last night, I was in a very strange headspace. I still am to an extent, but it's not nearly as bad as last night. Which is definitely a good thing, considering that's not something I want to be feeling the brunt of when I first wake up in the morning.

With everything I went through, from the time my friend Lory passed away to the events leading me into working as a Rabble Rouser for faire... As Faire continued, Dad was getting worse. As my world started to open up, finally getting ready to get out on my own and start my life, the fates intervened and derailed me. For so long I had stayed in my Father's shadow. Too long had I spent in the comforts of my childhood home knowing that I should've been out on my own already. Odd thing is, is that I had been. I lived with roommates, I had a job, I paid bills. I gained life experience and even ended up with my beautiful Eleanore. But I was brought home again. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that it was a good thing. That I needed to stay for a little while. I knew if I hadn't been there, if I wasn't as close, something bad would've happened sooner. Even though he had drank his liver into failure, I managed to prolong his life. It wasn't much, but he used to tell me all the time, how much my presence actually impacted him. That with me just being there, even while I was writing with my head phones on while he watched another episode of Buffy... It was enough. He used to tell me I made a difference without even realizing it.

-fights the sheen of tears that threaten to pool along her lash line-

We didn't have much but he told me he was proud of his daughter and amazed at the strong, intelligent, resilient young woman I had become, even if I didn't see it. That I was truly a Sailor's daughter and god help any man that ever pissed me off.

-grows a small smile while fighting the tightening within her ribcage-

I think back now and realize that for as much as I did, as many nights I barely slept, for months, I would never have just given up on him. He was sick and I was hellbent on doing everything I possibly could to give him a chance. It was my responsibility. There were those who, like angels, were there to help whenever they could and I can never truly thank them for it. They selflessly helped us when I had no one else to reach out to. I am forever indebted to them.

-takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before taking another drink from her second cup of coffee-

A part of me wants to go home. An almost desperate cry from my soul to place my bare feet against the grainy sand, playful wind slapping cool sea air against my face as the ocean reaches out to tickle the flesh of my feet with icy fingers. To hear that growling thunder as waves crash along the shore accompanied by a chorus of seagulls squawking obnoxiously overhead. I miss being near my great blue mother. To the scent of wild jasmine blooming at sunset as a thick fog rolled up and over the cliffs onto the streets. To hear the faraway barking of merdogs at the seal refuge up the hill, or the haunting cries of wild peacocks wailing into the early morning sun. Or the silly chittering of young raccoons wrestling playfully along the grass just beneath my window like fluffy sumo wrestlers into the wee hours of night.

I know now that I never took a moment for granted. The good and the bad still replaying on a small projector screen in the back of my mind. I will always cherish those memories, no matter how bittersweet because they're a part of me, of who I am. It's definitely not all bright'n'shiny, but it's honest.

-gives a small smile and nearly drains her nightmare before christmas thermos of it's magical contents-

I'm not where I expected to be when I started planning to get out on my own. "You're precisely where you ought to be." Says Gandalf the grey inside my head -chuckles-

On that note, it's now 7:04am and I need to get my ass in hear to take the lovelies to school. I may write more when I get back, but we'll see if the urge is still there.

-returns at 8:07am-

Lately, with these emotions finding their way back to the surface, feeling as though I've been turned inside out, I've come to a realization about myself. Something I wasn't all that pleased with when it initially graced my thoughts. I have been suffering from depression. I fought so hard to stay bright and shiny and positive no matter how shit-tastic I was feeling deep down inside. I refused to let it coil around me and pull me down into that inky blackness. I wasn't going to give it power by saying I felt low. I just wouldn't allow it. Even during the run of this recent faire season I noticed it's manifestation in the weight I had put on. I was nearly 20 pounds heavier then I had wanted to be. I didn't let that pull me down. There were moments when I'd see a picture or look in the mirror and feel that nasty old voice whisper to me that I was becoming ugly again. I flat out ignored it, no matter how much it nagged at me. I simply reminded myself that weight fluctuates and I can work it off and start getting back down in size again, which I currently am. 

I feel better physically when I'm between 150-160 which is still hefty, but not that unhealthy for my build. I almost topped 190 recently and a switch went off on my head. I'm now 178 and still dropping. I've also gained more muscle, which is actually a relief. 

Psychologically speaking, there's a twisted part of my brain, a form of Body Dysmorphia that will claw it's way to the surface if my face gets a little puffy or I swell a little around my midsection from water retention due to natural hormonal fluctuations. The Body Dysmorphia Disorder looks for any excuse to rear it's ugly head but I recognize it for what it is and squash it before it poisons me. From the age of 9 until I was 17 I suffered and fought with it. Caused by the negative terminology of my physical appearance by adults and classmates. Their words had a detrimental affect on my emotional development, especially my self esteem. I was convinced I would never be good enough or beautiful or hold any worth as a human being because I was overweight. No, let me rephrase that. Fat. I was the 'fat ass', 'chunky' etc. I especially loved the phrase, "you're kinda cute Erin, but you'd be allot prettier if you were skinny." I was 9 years old.

Somehow I survived my adolescence and eventually blossomed... After I was 17. I was a very late bloomer. So now as an adult, I understand where these negative thoughts derive from and begin picking them apart before they start to infect me. I won't be a victim of my own childhood demons. 

-chuckles and shakes her head after taking another hefty drink of her third cup of coffee-

Damn, I'm definitely on roll this morning. I guess I needed to let this out, to release some of the pressure building inside before it caused any real damage. Usually it's so very minimal I hardly give it any real thought. I suppose with the flood of my recent past, events with my Father that led me to where I am now...I'm forced into facing myself. No, it's not exactly pleasant, but it explains my moods that I've been internalizing as of late. 

There's honestly nothing wrong with me, just another form of grief. I'm just as screwed up as the next person^_^ 

I'm definitely not ignoring how I feel, which shows how far I've grown as a functioning adult. 

You know I find it interesting, that even though I suffer from a rare, genetic skin disease that there's still no cure for (no it's not contagious) that sometimes is a painful reminder that I will never be normal...it doesn't get the best of me anymore. So I've got scars. So I've got a high threshold for pain. So I'll never wear sleeveless anything in public. So what? It's really not that big of a deal. It used to be, of course. I went through the 'why me' stages. Eh, I got over it. I found it fascinating recently when I discovered it's an autoimmune disease. My body is constantly attacking and healing itself. Talk about being at war with yourself -chuckles- which also explains why I tend to bounce back so quickly from injuries or being sick. I'm pretty damned healthy despite some unhealthy habits here and there. I should be physically worse off than I am. I should be in agonizing pain. But I'm not. Sure, I'll have the occasional flare up to where I'm almost completely immobile, yet even then I've forced myself to get up and be with friends. Because even though I should've been hospitalized for the pain alone, (yes, it has and can get that bad) I knew that just being in good company was enough to bring my weakened spirits up. And it did.

Yes, my father was right. I am one stubborn hard ass lol

Alright, I think I've gone on long enough. Hopefully this wasn't too all over the place and was more or less entertaining. Just a glimpse into the chaos of my mind. Scary, huh?

-Adieu