X-Loves and madness and family holidays

Not sure what’s going on here but I took a zolpidem, swallowed it down with stale warm water yet refreshing water all the same. So I will be sleepying soon enough but sometimes right before bed there’s just something stewing or burning or aching that I must tend to before I can sleep. Tonite it’s like an ache in my bones like in my knees and hands and shoulders and my jaw is tight I keep trying to loosen it but this can be a difficult task. I ache emotionally for my mom for my dad for these parents of mine because they do so good to me when I visit and spend all this money on tasty food and all I really have to do is eat it and grace them with my joyous presence in return. But this narrative of giving and deserving and appreciating involves all these other weird manipulative social scripts like if I don’t act proper enough and host our extended guests as I should then its like a cost against me for all the costs my parents have incurred so that I may have such a privileged experience. Words and feelings like disrespect and distrust and hurt and pain get lost amidst these holiday performances of good food and family time.
We sit around my parents’ beautiful outdoor fire pit having dessert, in some ways it’s like the nite has only begun. Apparently my best friend Jessica who i have not spoken to since April 2012 for deeply painful reasons sent my mom a thanksgiving text message and my mom responded by inviting her to stop by. My mom invited her thinking what? shed be all cutesy and have Jess over even when my mom knows the sitch and needs to be my ally? So I’ve evacuated the downstairs and locked myself in the upstairs bedroom for the moment. I really really can’t see her on a whim on a holiday like that so whatever. I physically left the downstairs but I’ve also deserted my parents and all their work on the holiday and I don’t want them to think that I don’t appreciate them all and love them all I just need a place of refuge like this dark upstairs bedroom typing on my iPhone a blog entry into WordPress. I mean really mom, there’s almost a laugh coming out of my mouth and almost a tear coming down my cheek in disbelief I just don’t get why you’d invite her over. I feel weird and upset and quarantined with this insanity just leave me alone please and let me be. I might only feel safe here with the bedroom door locked lights off away from you and her.

what happens when i go crazy

going crazy – what does it mean – to me – to you – different things, different madness, different minds different bodies different pain wrenching pain pain pain pain.

what happens when i go crazy

well

i throw things, like heavy staplers, phones, candles, books.

i break things like ceramic, like glass, like dishes, like clothes ripping off my body cuz well i’m going crazy aren’t i. performing madness like my life is a stage and my body dissociates at every turn into every scene, goodbye reality.

i clean my kitchen like my life depends on it. scrubbing hard, every last dish every last crumb every last coffee stain wine stain like amoebas crusted on the counter tops must douse with Windex wiped down til it squeaks.

what happens when i go crazy

i bruise my body, i cut my body – with my fists, with razors, pick off old scabs see new blood blood blood.

i can’t stop.

?

what happens when i go crazy

i cry

i cry so hard

in the bathtub, running steaming hot too hot scalding hot water over my body crying into the burning water. i cry, i scream, wailing like i have no other way to convey this pain but to caterwaul into the echos of my little bathtub.

i cry in the rain when i’m breaking dishes on my front porch but it was san francisco so no one really hears anything and thank god for that.

i deface my dresser with words scribbling words writing stream of consciousness negative self-talk beautiful penciled words scrawled across my $35 ikea mini wooden dresser. i cut and i bleed and i blend blood with pencil on wood and ah it’s so wonderful.

what happens when i go crazy

i curl into myself, folding in, cradle.

i pull my hair i pull hard pull and pull and pull pull pull pull.

i go crazy until the craziness has no where else to go and i’m depleted i’m wretched and i can finally sleep.

Type 1 Diabetes and perfectly safe animals

She wakes up regularly, in the middle of the night. I know this not because I too awaken alongside the hall light or the slight sounds of her midnight scuffle. I remain steadfast in sleep, tangled in my sheets with cold sweats and stressful Ambien-induced dreams. I dream that I am chasing my animals amidst the dangerous streets of my subconscious and no one can save their souls from the swerving vehicles but me.

Little do I realize that my animals are perfectly safe, and awake at 2am wandering to the refrigerator with my sister. She wakes up regularly, in the middle of the night, and I know this from daybreak’s evidence: as I put the teakettle on the front burner and turn on the gas to boil water for the French pressed coffee, I see a clear glass cup that was not there just the night before when I finished loading the dishwasher. It has a crusted ring of dried orange juice glued to the bottom. Then I notice the empty fruit snacks wrapper crumbled on the counter, and when I grab the half and half from the fridge I count one less Reese’s peanut butter cup.