I am In Repair

And now I’m walking in the park
And all of the birds, they dance below me
Maybe when things turn green again
It will be good to say you know me

Oh, it’s taken so long
I could be wrong, I could be ready
Oh, but if I take my heart’s advice
I should assume it’s still unsteady
Oh yeah, I’m never really ready, yeah
Oh yeah, I’m never really ready, yeah
I’m in repair
I’m not together, but I’m getting there

~John Mayer

So I made it through midterms week, licked my wounds, got A’s and B’s.

Oh boy.

My need to strive for perfection says those B’s aren’t good enough, damn it. Damn it!

But I have too much on my plate and I know it. Work full-time. Full-time mostly single parent of two special needs toddlers. And bipolar disasters/anxiety to deal with on a moment to moment basis. Not to mention I’ve been working in the emergency room (which by the way is NOT a good place for an anxious person to be working! HELLO.)

Argh. Hang in there darlin’.

And I broke an impacted molar that’s infected. My dentist doesn’t have time to perform my oral surgery until February. Seeking a second opinion on saturday.

Still beautiful fall weather. No snow though! Bought a Subaru in order to prepare. Bring it on!

So how are you?


Feelings Underwater

Much like old habits, old feelings die hard.

If I could fill up a mason jar with my rejected emotions and send them to the ancient underwater ruins of some disappeared place so I could never feel them again, I would, never to be felt, heard, or envisioned again.

….Underwater where the flame could never re-ignite.

Maybe the jar would open, and the ancient ruins could absorb the feelings for me like an old house does that of its occupants.

“The ruins of himself! now worn away With age, yet still majestic in decay.” -Homer

They were beautiful feelings, even then and now.

Let them die, I pray.


via Daily Prompt: Ancient

Someone parked in front of my tree.

I knew I was running late.

That call to my insurance company trying to figure out what happened to my benefits really set me back time-wise this morning. I need to get my medication filled and I can’t because I suddenly have no coverage. Not good for someone that has anxiety/bipolar. I’m sinking fast, buried underground with worry, being buried and quickly losing sight of the bigger picture.

Someone parked in front of my tree.

Normally I pull into the parking lot at about 7:10 AM to clock in at 7:25 AM to open my office doors at 7:30AM- techically I don’t have to clock in until 7:30 AM, but that seems irresponsible to me because my patients are impatient and I don’t like to keep them waiting if I can help it; that’s poor customer service, if you ask me.

Someone parked in front of my tree.

I pulled into the parking lot at 7:12 AM.

All of the other spots in the lot were empty, with the exception of my spot.  I park in the same spot every day, five days a week, in front of an ancient, gigantic yellow Snow Summit tractor that has a bee hive established inside of it and a tiny pine tree.

Time got away from me this morning, anxiety burying me underground, and

someone parked in front of my tree.

via Daily Prompt: Underground

Daily Prompt: Waiting

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We have a “no negative contact” order in place, following the very last incident that happened January 3rd.

It’s not something that I like to talk about.

We had a no contact order in place for 10 months, but in the interest of co-parenting, I decided to go with the other option. He had full visitation rights with the kids anyhow, and insisted on contacting me anyway. And insisted on moving in closer and closer.

He cleaned up his act, got a job, started acting like an adult. Complied with the court, and eventually with court orders. And I love him.

But I’m always waiting.

Waiting to see if and when it will happen again.

Hoping and praying that it won’t.

via Daily Prompt: Waiting

One sided apologies.

Sometimes we do terrible things, but that doesn’t mean we’re terrible people.

Sometimes it takes two people for a terrible situation to occur, but only one person ends up apologizing. 

To Parker, the wall I keep apologizing to. I miss you so much, and I’m so sorry, but at this point I’ve almost forgotten what I’m still apologizing for. 

The wall only echoes back with the sound of my own voice.