Stream Of Consciousness: On Fear

I have been living inside my head too much lately. It’s a side-effect of being home alone too often. TCBIM is gone 5 nights out of 7 and I’m left here to think, stew, feel, get myself in a tizzy and over what? Sometimes it’s something big, sometimes it’s nothing at all.

Watching the BBC news last night, seeing the statistics that 1 in 3 Iraqis are living without running water, decent nutrition and sanitation. Seeing the liquid brown eyes of small children, living 10 to a room, fathers, brothers, uncles, gone, no door, cooking facilities outside and yet their eyes are so trusting, so solemn, boring into my soul, making me cry, making me rail, making me quiver with sorrow and anger, making me clutch my babies close to me.

Boo, not understanding my tears, says “You cry, Mama? It’s ok, I here, it’s ok,” as she pats my shoulder with her chubby, well-fed hands and even though we are struggling, we are behind on the mortgage, on the light bill, we have food. We have a roof. We have each other, all together, healthy, whole, not shell-shocked by war, not having to cook on a stove outside because there is no kitchen, just a room with a bed. We are safe.

Hearing of this child left in a car, accidentally, by a parent, these girls raped and murdered in their home, the next horror perpetuated on a small, defenseless person, a person who didn’t ask for these things to happen, who just wants love and safety and someone to trust in and it breaks my heart wide open, the pain almost visceral as I hear stories, stories I try to avoid (don’t watch the news, don’t watch the news, a mantra in my head), knowing what they do to me, how they rip me apart, exposing that naked quick, the part of me that cries and clings to my children, hoping, begging, pleading for nothing to ever happen to them because what if? What if? What ifs keep me awake at night, keep me hanging over the crib, keep me sitting on the edges of beds, watching them breathe, keep me walking close behind them, fear knotting my stomach as the possibilities for injury, for hurt, for anything, everything unfold in my head, making it hard to stand upright at times, making my brain scramble and whirl, making my knees turn to jelly, my heart aching just at the thought.

Fear makes me bolt upright in the middle of the night, makes me prowl the house after dark, making sure doors are locked, ovens are shut off, children are safe in their beds. I thought, foolishly, that as my children got older, got a little less reliant on me, that I would fear less. Instead, fear and I are bosom enemies, uneasy bedfellows. Fear that if the fear stops, if the unthinkable happens, I will surely go mad. Fear that the fear itself will drive me mad. Fear has given me Red Shoes, has taken me into its arms for an endless dance, a dance I don’t know how to end, a dance I do, day and night, not knowing how to stop, unsure that I will survive.

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Gimme A Bucket

I don’t think I’ve ever had the flu before but I have something now.

My stomach is queasy. Every time I stand up, I feel like I’m going to puke. My head is spinning. I’m exhausted – like, take a three hour nap and feel like I need to go back to bed half an hour later. I ache all over.

I’ve been like this for two days now and it’s getting old. It’s too hot to feel like shit. It also really sucks to feel like this when you have two little kids running all over the place.

Ugh.

For Shannon And Kerri

And the rest of you, of course.

High And Dry (This Post Has Too Much Information)

Y’know, sometimes I don’t know why I even bother.

My husband and I were on the same page tonight. Things were clicking. We’d gone to a party, we’d had a good time and we were both ready to go home at the same time. It only took a couple of glances at each other on the ride home to realize that we were both ready to get hot and heavy. He even bought batteries (I’ll wait while you go there).

He was laying on the couch (not suggestively, not even close) and I got up to get a glass of water. Not use the bathroom, not to go slip into something more comfortable, it was a glass of water. I was gone for all of 30 seconds. When I get back to the living room, he’s freakin’ snoring on the couch. I tried to wake him up but he shoved my hands away and rolled over, face into the back cushions.

Sorry, dood. You snooze, you lose. I’m going to bed. And I’m taking B.O.B. with me.

Meet BOB.
Bob and I are going to be good friends, I can tell.

No More Bat Boy!

Where will I get the latest news of Bat Boy?

Who else could have discovered that Abe Lincoln was a woman?

Who’s going to run the Saddam/Osama gay wedding stories now?

This is probably why they’re shutting down. They found out the truth.

It’s the end of an era.

HP Miscellania

  • I wouldn’t want to say I’m obsessed or anything, but I did take Harry Potter 7 with me when I went to see Harry Potter 5 (for the second time) with O last weekend. I read it while waiting in line and while waiting for the movie to start.

  • After waiting impatiently for TCBIM to hurry up and finish the damned book already, we both had the same quibbles and thoughts on the book, so the discussion I was so looking forward to turned out to be a case of “Oh, me too!” So, y’know, nice that we’re on the same page (arf!) about the book, but it doesn’t make for a scintillating conversation.

  • I spoke with a friend of mine last night (Hi, L!) about the Harry Potter stuff and in trying to give her a synopsis, I realized that I really suck at that. I kept forgetting the order of things, kept having to back track and I didn’t even TRY to explain the three hallows thing to her. I was confusing myself – I can’t even imagine what I did to her.

  • I was watching Keith (my imaginary boyfriend) Olbermann last night and he ran part of an interview that Meredith Viera (I really don’t like her – never have. I’m not a big Today Show watcher, but I much preferred Katie Couric.) did with JK Rowling. There is going to be an 8th book; it’s going to be an encyclopedia-type thing, similar to what Tolkein did with the LOTR books. It’s going to tie up some loose ends, according to Rowling. That would be nice, because there were enough loose ends in there that I could make a sweater with them.

OK, I think this is it for Harry Potter posts. Even I’m getting sick of talking about it.

More Harry Potter (no spoilers)

TCBIM started reading the new Harry Potter last night. He had to finish re-reading Order Of The Phoenix first, thus the slight delay.

He took it to work with him last night. He works in a bar on Sunday nights – a bar that gets a decent amount of customers on a Sunday – and he managed to read about 200 pages while there (plus the 100 or so pages he had left to read in TOOTP).

Today, he got up at 7, showered, checked his work email and announced that he didn’t have to leave the house until 10. He then sat down and read feverishly for about 2 hours. Left for his appointment and where he’d normally just drive to his next appointment and wait, he decided to come home and read. Twice. (He doesn’t take the book with him because he knows I’d have his head if he ever lost it or got it dirty.)

It’s cracking me up. He loves the Harry Potter books almost as much as I do, but I never expected him to read at work or race home for 20 minutes so he could get a few more pages in. It’s kind of cute.

I just hope he finished the damned thing SOON because I’m going to burst soon if I don’t get to discuss this with him.

Seven Hours

And I’m done with Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows.

It was excellent.

And I’m very, very sad that this series is done.

More Olbermann Love

I feel like standing and cheering every time I hear one of these.

I even have my oldest daughter watching these special comments.

Ninety Minutes

That’s how much sleep I got last night. I think I finally dropped off around 5 a.m. – it was starting to get light out, last I remember – and then the baby woke up at 6:30.

I fucking hate nights like that. I got up, went in the other room, watched a bit of TV til I felt sleepy, read for a bit, all the usual things I do that usually allow me to fall asleep. They all failed last night.

I feel like someone’s poured the contents of a sandbox into my eyes and my head feels like it’s in vice grips. If I don’t get a nap in today, there’s a distinct possibility that I might kill someone. Probably myself.

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