Category Archives: Feels like Sunday

The dread and the light

Sunday again. This day must take on a new meaning for me, a new feeling. I can’t keep waking up with the same sense of dread and melancholy as I have for years, for forever, since before I even knew what Sunday was. I think My Son feels it as well or maybe he just feels my discontentment. We are so ridiculously attached, his mouth an almost permanent fixture upon my breast, his eyes search my face in wonderment without a bit of judgement, my arms wrapped around his warm body, my hair tangled around his tiny fingers. He deserves Sundays free of this stigma of mine. He deserves his own story.

I could write so much more, I am dying to write and write but my Son demands my attention and goddamn he is a powerful commander. I am…..

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

Smells like Dreft

Used up and sucked dry,

my inhibitions discarded along with my placenta.

Who is this shirtless woman, carelessly loading a washing machine,

no consideration for mismatched colors.

Fabrics in need of special care must now fend for themselves.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

The slow night

Sleepless nights slowly fade into a waking dream called daytime

I carry my child from room to room, his cries rising and falling like a desperate tide

Cradled in my arms he searches for my breast, for sustenance, comfort

We fall asleep side by side, warm soft skin against my chest

Slow cries give in to calm

Breath steadies and falls into place

Sleep comes slow, lingers briefly and without patience

Is it Monday?

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

Shut your mouth and be patient

I have been feeling a bit more private these days. As the day approaches when this kid will be all out in the open, exposed to the world, I am becoming more hesitant, a little more careful with my words. A calmness has come over me, a quiet still air surrounds me. Preparing, physically and mentally for the arrival.

I keep having dreams about a flat stomach, I reach down and feel my pliable skin, loose and empty. Soon enough….soon enough.

I want to be alone, alone with my thoughts and my emotions. I speak and I instantly want to snatch the words from the air, pull them back and shove them down my throat. Any part of me that gets out in the open is like a little piece of the kid inside getting out as well and he’s just not ready yet. Can anyone ever really be ready to face this world, these people?

My dislike for people ebbs and flows, right now, it’s fucking flowing strong and steady, no ebb in sight. Everything feels like a threat, to my safety and my sanity. Everyone makes me uncomfortable, situations take on a life of their own and I am carried along, arms flailing and skirt swept up in the wind, I am exposed and vulnerable.

Pregnancy feels like a weakness, I imagine motherhood feeling very strong and powerful. Be patient, be calm, just a few more weeks.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant

Rubber appendages

Confused, as if under water, head wrapped tightly in gauze, the world distorted and hazy. I blink and shake my head in an attempt to clear my vision, my perception of the world in front of me. My breath comes in short gasps and long drawn out inhalations made with great effort. Unable to perform, to appear as if I am a normal functioning adult, a pregnant woman going about her business, shopping for milk and eggs, hand reaching towards refrigerated shelves with extreme effort not to allow the heavy rubber like texture of my arm to show through the pinkish white skin. One foot placed in front of the other, again and again, I look on in wonder and amazement that my legs are capable of such a motion. Click, clack, click, clack. A deliberate action.

The anxiety of today has overcome me completely. I want to give in, succumb to the temptations of tears, a sleeping pill and a warm bed, dreamless sleep and heavy-headed nothingness. I do nothing. I do not give in and I do not move forward, stuck in a limbo, between panic and sleep. If only I could smoke a cigarette, the action of hand to mouth, inhaling and exhaling with a purpose, luring me back to reality. If only I could curl up into a ball, shrinking down to the size of a grain of salt, disappearing between the cracks in the floorboards. I would hide in the darkness until the safety of night, the relief of tomorrow, any other time than now, this never-ending moment of pause.

Closing my eyes, I wait……

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant

Listen

Last nights dream-

I was deaf, or at least very close to deaf, I could faintly hear voices, far away and mumbled voices. I was installing a helium tank to some kind of large mechanical device. Every time I turned a lever or knob, steam escaped from the machine in violent spurts and billows. A big man was giving me instructions from about 12 feet away but I couldn’t hear him. I kept screaming “what”?! He became frustrated with me and I could tell he was yelling at me but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. As soon as steam came out of the machine I would turn the levers back to stop it. I was getting the idea that this is exactly what I was not supposed to be doing but I was so frightened by the steam that I couldn’t help myself. The big man was irate and I was becoming afraid of him as well as the steam. I was screaming, trying to explain to him that I was deaf but he didn’t believe me.

Interpretation-

Well, I actually do have hearing loss in my right ear due to years of espresso grinders always being on my right side and yesterday I was especially annoyed by this slight handicap. However I think the dream meant much more than being annoyed by mumbled conversation.

While I am making a great effort at informing myself as much as possible about my pregnancy and what to expect with labor and the caring of a newborn I need to accept the fact that things will not turn out the way I am so carefully planning in my own head. This shit will be scary. I am not the tough guy I pretend to be all the time. It’s OK to admit fear, to open the valves a little and share what I am really feeling. Opening up emotionally may even be more frightening than the challenges I am facing as a new Mother.

The “big man” who is angry with me may symbolize my rational side. He is frustrated because I am being so hesitant, he doesn’t understand the fear behind honest, the strength it takes to reveal the truth. He is a basic thinking man, a mechanical man. I have a hard time hearing him because I am locked in my fear. The “big man” (rational thought) is far away, demanding me to behave correctly, to listen. This man also reminded me of my Father. He often comes to me in dreams and many times he has given me this exact advice, “listen”.

I am listening.

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I dreamed..., Memories of Dad

Domesticity becomes me

The vacuum creates a pathway for me to follow, down the hall and off a cliff, obediently, blindly I follow. Ring around the toilet hypnotizes me, woosh, I am swirling down, away into the sewer, dark and damp I find a corner, grab a brush and get to scrubbing. A pile of laundry grows before me, a mountain of funky panties and grease stained jeans, becoming volcano like with an ominous reeking danger. Creep a little closer and peek over the edge to find a boiling mass of molten sweat socks, sulfur stinging my eyes. Douse the flames with Clorox and baking soda, Heloise knows all the right tricks. Dust bunnies make a mad dash for their burrows, herding their young and sacrificing the elderly and the decrepit along the way. I sweep up the skeletal remains and clumps of fur, filling my dust pan as I hum along with their low moans of despair and surrender. Pinning cool wet sheets on the clothesline like a fresh kill stretched out to dry in the sun, look at my accomplishments, aren’t they so white, so clean and pure?

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Mascara, the cure for Insomnia

Things get creaky, the walls when I walk, the floor when I fall. A slow screech lingers in my head, invading the quiet, the dark. Sleepless nights, wandering around my house. Get up, piss, get some water, repeat 10 more fucking times until finally its morning and I can add some more pointless activities to this ridiculous routine. The heavy-headed dizziness of sleep deprivation overcomes me, becomes me. An hour of pilates awakens my limbs, filling my lungs with oxygen. Am I awake yet? Can you awaken when you never really go to sleep? A shower washes away the residue of the previous 24 hours of existence. Am I awake yet? Not really, no need to be. I will live forever in this halfway world between reality, dreams and unsleep. I paint a portrait of myself, intricately filling in every crevice and pore, sweep of eyebrow and curl of lash, smearing of red, the illusion of a mouth, an eye, a girl, a woman, a whore and a clown. Now I am here, I have arrived.

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Filed under Fashionably Unreasonable, Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant, Uncategorized

What’s left besides bones and hair?

What does a hopeless waste of a life look like? A 59 year old crystal meth addict wearing booty shorts and high top Chuck Taylor’s? Insanely red hair with two inches of white roots? Ninety pounds of gauntness on a 5’3″ frame that’s shrinking by the minute? A gesticulating mess of limbs with an oscillating jaw spraying saliva in every direction?

“What’s your address?”

“Umm…I don’t know, let me go see.”

“You have lived here for months!”

She wanders from room to room. Never ending organizational projects fill up spaces where a life should be. Collections of nothingness, picked through and stripped to the bone.

Days and nights are meaningless when your eyes have forgotten how to close.

She is gone, she was never actually there.

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Filed under Alcoholism and other Assholes, Feels like Sunday, Something that happened

lock the door

Unavailable now that I am conscious,

so very fucking conscious.

More present in my dreams, more accountable.

The inconsistencies of waking life,

make sense when I lock my door.

Behind the wall, underground and burrowed deep

into the wet earth, I tunnel through and around myself.

Becoming a man, a child, a mutant worm digesting itself,

copulation becomes disintegration, multiplying the existence of nothing.

 

 

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I dreamed..., Uncategorized

A kick in the face

Today I am reminded that I am an alcoholic, that I am a bulimic, that I am very fucking far from cured of any of the self-destructive behaviors that I am so undeniably addicted to. I can walk around with my rotundly pregnant belly and want a drink just as badly as the drunkard falling over in his seat on the bus. I can feel my baby squirming around inside of me and want to binge on junk food for hours just for the sake of purging, the wonderful empty high of bulimia. I can imagine holding my Son in a few months as vividly and yearningly as I can imagine smoking an entire pack of cigarettes in one afternoon.

Annoyance, simple everyday annoyance brings this shit on. Not life shattering events, not horrific news of some tragedy, not a fight amongst lovers or friends, not even slightly more complicated feelings like anger or stress, just plain old annoyance.

I had an appointment today, I contemplated not going, I always do, and I always go. I seem to have a busy calendar as of late with appointments at the Doctor, the Dentist, the Therapist (sort of, not really an actual therapist.) You see, when you go to the OB/GYN and are honest about your shit they will refer you to a counselor type person to assist you through your pregnancy. The woman I was assigned to happened to be an addiction and eating disorder specialist, so she will obviously know everything there is to know about me. It actually isn’t all that bad. I talk incessantly and answer questions before she can ask them and leave her pretty much speechless except to schedule our next appointment.

The annoyance began on my walk to the train station. The sun was absolutely blinding, the wind blowing my hair into my face, wisps sticking to my lip gloss slathered mouth. My feet already blistered, begin to throb within minutes. I don’t want to be outside today, the traffic too loud, the streets too crowded. Waiting for the train, I shift my increasing weight from foot to foot and try to avoid eye contact with some creepy asshole staring at me. Already I am done with this day. I want to escape, I want to scream, I want to fall down on the ground and throw a tantrum like a child.

Trudging my way up the long ass hill to the Hospital I almost take off my heels because who gives a fuck anymore, barefoot and pregnant, embrace it.

My annoyance turns me into an uppity ass bitch, click clacking in my heels down the hospital halls. What a scene I am, in my dress and coat, my bouffant and my eyebrows. I heave my bright red leather luggage I haul around as my purse, up and onto the reception desk, rummaging for my ID.

“Yes, I am her, can’t you tell? Are there others?”

Losing track of what’s real I want only to sit and write, to ignore the day that surrounds me, engulfs me.

The hour goes by in the usual fashion, my prattling on about healthy meal consumption and yes, of course I intend on attending meetings more regularly.

I leave and face the harsh assault of sunlight, traffic and obnoxious ass people crowding around me on the train.

Why did I leave the house today?

Hauling my ass home, completely aggravated with every living thing from the green grass and bright flowers to the singing birds in the trees. I don’t even wave back to the friendly neighbor who chirps hello from her porch, I just want to go home and crawl into bed. No, what I really want is to go home, open a bottle of wine and light a cigarette. My brain doesn’t give a shit that I am pregnant, it wants what it wants and it is screaming it loud and clear.

Well fuck you brain, fuck you Regina, you selfish goddamn brat. You don’t get what you want anymore.

Home. I write. I eat frozen yogurt. I watch my dogs play. I take a nap. I am ok.

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Filed under Alcoholism and other Assholes, Ana, Mia and other Bitches, Fashionably Unreasonable, Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant, My Home, Something that happened