Random, Uncategorized

At the Bar

Wednesday evening at the bar. I had to check to make sure it was Wednesday. The days blur lately.

I’m having boneless wings in the restaurant’s special sauce. I’ve had them before. I didn’t feel like being brave today.

Tullamore and ginger beer. I have to ask for lime. Whiskey is my drink of choice, in general, but also for contemplation. The bartender has finally remembered not to fill my glass with ice.

To my right are two women exploring a jewelry catalog. One is speaking about how the jewelry can tell a story as though it is a spiritual journey. Their intense small talk about nothing makes me twitch. I wonder what, if anything, is really important to them.

The man who was sitting to my left has just left. I did not see him depart. His empty beer bottle, the condensation from it, and the signature on a soon lost piece of paper are the evidence that he was here. He was complaining about the rain. I think to myself, “It’s Florida…. Maybe get over it.”

The women have received their food. It grows cold as they are engrossed in their shopping venture. They are complaining about an acquaintance that’s super loud. I want to tell them they are annoying and they’ve killed the ambience with their unsubstantial bullshit.

“Is anyone sitting here, ma’am?” There is now a new couple to my left. He takes beer. She takes wine. Typical. They couldn’t hang with me. I look at their faces and I wouldn’t expect them to be together. They’re discussing the price of lobster rolls and whether or not they are hungry. It would seem they’ve come to the wrong place.

I’ve just realised I’m the only black person at the bar. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, I’m used to it in the South. Only an observation that only people like me tend to observe.

I am wishing someone I cared about was sitting next to me. I am wishing I would not walk back home in the rain alone. I long for the warmth of more than whiskey. I am longing for the warmth of your hand.

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Mental Health, Random

Awake, Part 8

I know why the caged bird sings…

How I long to be free of my self-imposed battle with guilt. All the things I’ve done, all the ways I’ve wronged someone, all the things I’ve said, all the mistakes I’ve made, every embarrassing moment orbits the edge of thought trying to break into my brain’s gravitational field. I try to keep the thoughts at bay. Damn by interminable, long memory. It is like my grandmother’s, who at 100 years old, could spout of details of not only all of her offspring’s long ago mishaps, but her own childhood. I envy those who can easily forget and shake off the little things.

I’m afraid to sleep because I’m afraid to dream.

I’m afraid to wake because I’m afraid to think.

Where is the happy balance? Where is the freedom from this self-inflicted tyranny? Hope do I get out of this vicious cycle that keeps me caged in monotony, vulnerability, fear, and one damnably terrible sleep pattern?

The caged bird sings of freedom.

Random

Awake, Part 7

I am thinking of you, in my sleepless solitude tonight.

Awake again. I’m beginning to associate lack of sleep with normalcy. But, at least, I’m being productive.

I drank too much wine and the brain fog is settling in. But, at least I enjoyed it.

My Fitbit says my heart rate is 102. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the position I’m in, or anxiety about yet another day back to work. But, it’s Fat Burn zone, so maybe I’ll shed some pounds in my state of confusion.

I’ve discovered new pastimes for sleepless nights. One is writing my thoughts for others to read. The other is reading the thoughts others write. In some strange way, I feel bonded to everyone else who is awake right now, either because sleep is evasive or because it’s daytime in their time zone. But, strange though it is, it is also somewhat gratifying to feel like part of an unknown something.

I am thinking of you. I have been all day. You showed up in my dreams during the little sleep I did get. Now, I do not know if being awake is a blessing. But, it was good to see your face.

Mental Health

The Beckett Sisters

Have you seen the movie The Beckett Sisters? It stars Diane Keaton, Kathy Bates, and Barbara Streisand as three, somewhat strange, women in a small village. They may or may not be related, but they all have the same last name and the same supernatural powers. They can visit other realms at the snap of a finger. They can pull red and people roses from another world into the dreary, clouded fall off their small village. Each of the ladies has one child, all of whom are attempting to find this gift within themselves while struggling to come of age. It is a tale of jealousy, resentment, age-old quarrels among adults, and new ones along teenagers. With appearances from Charlie Heaton and Natalia Dyer, of Stranger Things, this is a film that teaches us…

…nothing. Because it just ends very abruptly. After I awoke, it too me several minutes to understand that I had dreamed the whole thing. This is a battle I often have, distinguishing dream from reality when I’m awake. I have to have conversations with myself to determine what is true or false. Unfortunately, that was only one of several very vivid dreams I had this night. It’s 0425, and I’m afraid to go back to sleep. As the dream fades, I’m not sure Kathy Bates was one of the three actresses, but it was a definitely a hell of a cast.

Aren’t sleep aids/antidepressants/antipsychotics just great? On top of the words and the do-loop of rumination that can’t get out of your head? Sleep on that.