Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Friday, May 07, 2010

Help me baby Buddha.

It's only this space of night.  When the kids are safely tucked, and all of the responsibilities and demands are quieter, that I have space and time. 
I consistently stay up way too late for someone who has to wake up at 4:45 am.
One reason is because, it's the only down time I get.
The work, the dinner, the dishes, the homework, the laundry, the fix everything, is paused.
Another reason is because it's really difficult to shut the brain off.
The biggest reason is, lack of sleep is very much like being drunk. And I like that numb disconnected non-feeling.  On a good night, I get five hours.  So, I don't sleep, I spend the entire next day lack of sleep drunk.
So I just don't sleep and zombie my way through life.
Good idea Keri.

RCD said, come prepared next week to talk about the exact things I don't want to talk about.
Holy shit.  No pressure.
  1. First choice: Never go back. But, FAIL.
  2. Stagnantly talk about Baseball. FAIL.  But YUM, baseball!
  3. Never go back. WIN!
  4. Actually talking about STUFF is the last option.
So in the vault of blank and numb, I'm supposed to come up with something or FAIL.
The biggest problem is...I DO NOT WANT TO.
Recognizing, makes it a part of me.  So, NO.

My sister just had surgery to remove some defective body parts that were seriously hurting her.  Large chunks of her flesh were cut out, and even after a few days with massive wounds, she is already so much better.

Why can't I get a surgeon to cut out the parts of me that hurt?  She gets a morphine drip and I get to have myself dissected without so much as a Tylenol, and I am still stuck with all of the defective parts.  And it's my fault because I'm not trying hard enough.  I am STUCK with my defective parts, and even IF I could talk about them, they would always still be there.  It wouldn't change the rotting.

So I anesthetize myself with lack of sleep, alcohol, and denial, and stubborn.
The walls are there for a reason.
They serve a purpose.
They weren't easily built and are harder to tear down.
Especially with the, NO.
And I am still being punished for things that were never? my fault Blame=Me.

So here we go.  I'll choose the least-est and twitch away.

There are no linear memories.
I have two memory fence posts. 
Before Baptism and after twelve. 
With mostly blank and numb in between.

I remember the pre-baptism interview.  I'm sure there is a Mormon label for it, but I don't remember it. 
I remember it was SCARY.
His name was Bishop Pulley.
I remember so looking forward to the slate being wiped clean.
It was my chance!
Because I was only seven/eight years old, and felt so much tremendous guilt and responsibility.
Because when STUFF happened, it was because I had done something wrong and deserved to  be punished.
It was SO my fault.

And when the "dad" said the words, and dunked me, in my polyester jumpsuit, I felt this overwhelming sense of? Grief?  Repentance?  Change?  Release?
Things were going to be different now.
I felt like it was my only chance.
Things were going to change. 
I was going to stop being bad.
My slate was wiped clean.

But then, nothing changed.
I was still bad.
And it was still my fault.
And there wasn't another slate wiping clean chance again.


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