I hate days like this… I feel twitchy after spending the last 2 days pulling weeds in my gardens and having bugs crawl all over me… I still feel like I’m going to have a panic attack. I know I should be used to this by now and I know bugs are no big deal, really, but I still cannot help the way I react. I try so hard to play it cool and to stay calm. I have these huge spiders in my flower beds and when you startle them they run toward you – not away from you. It freaks me out. Not to mention the beetles, ants and roaches that live in the taller weeds and thick grasses that I have to deal with. I hate this feeling… everything that touches me makes me flinch. I’m so jumpy. I think I will just sit calmly the rest of the day and sip tea and watch Netflix.
Tag Archive: emotional abuse
I realized today, not for the first time, that there are several things I do simply out of habit…out of long-standing routine. I shower in exactly the same way, dry off in the same pattern, wash dishes in the same order (cups & glasses first, then plates, then bowls, then pots & pans and finally serving and silver-ware)… I even open my cans of cream in the way I was taught by my mother when I was a kid – though it is not the most safe or expedient way to do so…(with a knife – which causes my husband some consternation… he’s always afraid I’ll cut myself; which I must admit is likely since I am terribly clumsy…) It’s funny all the little habits and routines we get into without considering their source or effectiveness. 
I’ve tossed and turned for hours and I’m about ready to give up on sleep. Night sweats and hot flashes are not conducive to good rest and I feel so wound up and disoriented from this desperate need to rest that I don’t know that I am really capable of coherent thought at the moment. My thoughts race on some Silent-Hill-esque distorted merry-go-round on which the horses are darkly demonic with red eyes and flaming nostrils… rotting flesh and exposed bone… where the calliope is just off-key and so discordant and loud it sets your teeth on edge. This dark carnival of my mind… this sea of faces… I don’t know what to do with it all… here a leering clown, terrifying and somehow familiar under the painted face… there a carnival barker pedaling wares in a voice that triggers unwanted memories and me racing down the freeway trying to escape all of it…. I don’t want these thoughts, memories, fears, doubts and emotions washing over me like a flood tide. I fear I may drown in this. Please, God, don’t let me drown…









