Maybe too much

Is there such a thing as too much emotion? Can someone feel a thing too much?

I’ve been wondering this since yesterday, and I haven’t come up with a good answer. Something inside me keeps saying that I should pull what I feel back before it gets out of hand.

I wish I could explain it better than that.


Random things: a quintet

Thing the first: Why do things seem to take forever to happen? I’m waiting for paperwork to come so I can move to the next step here. Damn paperwork is taking its sweet time. Usually this slowness wouldn’t bother me, but I feel like somebody’s breathing down the back of my neck. I guess the saying about the watched pot is true.

Thing the second: I need to learn to stop spending my little money on the household. I spent my last five dollars on ice and soda today, because we were out of the former and low on the latter. My parents are down to gas money–but they managed to find money to give over to the Lord of Lassitude for something. I don’t know why this bothers me so much right now; it’s not like I don’t benefit from the soda and ice.

Thing the third: I hate summer right now.

Thing the fourth: I feel like I’m coming unraveled. I feel like I’m one or two shaky steps from either wrapping my arms around my head and wailing, or taking the nearest heavy blunt object and going on a bloody rampage, ending with myself. I don’t know why I feel so unable to stand up and handle. Where is my spine? Where is my perseverance?  It’s like it all just drained out of me, leaving me  a prime candidate for the men in the white coats. I have no will to do anything anymore.

Thing the fifth: This staying up all night has got to stop. I can’t do my normal stuff in the morning if I’m sleeping til nearly noon. It does no good to prepare for sleep, and do my normal nighttime stuff. I’m still guaranteed to fall into bed about now (3am) and toss for an hour or so, despite meditation and other soothing “we must sleep now” measures.

Shaky foundations

When can I set down the stress, I wonder? I’m afraid to sleep most nights, because just lately my dreams have been of faceless policemen laughing as they toss us out into the street.

So because I don’t usually sleep until 3 or 4am, I’ve been tired all day when I finally wake up. But I can’t rest during the day because the house has to be taken care of and dinner must be cooked before the parental units get home–and with me waking up pretty late in the morning, there’s no time to sit down between “clean the house” and “make dinner”.

I’ve been too tired to eat most days, but I force myself. Sometimes I feel sick afterward. Sometimes my stomach folds up and just says no, but still I make something (something light–the thought of the heavy stuff I make for them makes me sick sometimes; when my stomach is in a stubborn frame of mind, it’s easier to get soup in there than it would be steak or pork chops or something like that) and force it down.

I wish I could separate the part of my brain that is constantly running from the rest of me and put it in a room where it could run to its little heart’s content.  What I want most right now is rest. Just quiet, velvety soft quiet.


I finally located Colonel Crazy, but circumstances have changed for him, so I can’t flop there. So, back to square one, and social services. Still waiting for paperwork before I can make the jump there. I can still put my stuff in his storage unit, though, so there’s a bright spot.

A setback. Seems like my life just lately is full of them and I can’t get ahead at all.

The clock’s ticking, and I feel like I have no more bailing options left.

Plans to go poof

I said in my last post that I was seriously considering a quick fade here. Now, there may be a way to make that happen.

My parents and I were involved in a car accident last summer. The lawyer is finally getting the money people to talk turkey, so I may have some money coming my way soon.

After I pay the lawyer and whatever doctor bills needed, hopefully I’ll have a suitable chunk of change left. If I’m very lucky, it will be enough to get a car and go.

I don’t know where yet. I’m reluctant to plan very far–there’s this saying about not counting chickens–but again, if I’m very lucky, I can get in a car and poof.

Maybe it would be better to get the money and poof without buying a car until I’m wherever I’ll land.  I don’t know. I’ll take suggestions.

This feels like running away from home.

This week on Peyton Place

On the last episode, our heroine was blasted for venting about the home situation to an interested third party, treated to the cold shoulder by her mother, and promised a talking at by her sister.

On this episode: our heroine goes to walk it out and lands at a park. It’s nice and green and our heroine tries to remember just one reason why she shouldn’t just give it all up. She didn’t find a reason, but the birds were chirping and the air was cool and the sun was shining.

She then calls the interested third party to give her an update and to vent a bit more. She feels safe to do it, since she’s alone at this park and there’s no one around to object.

At this point, our heroine has been gone from home for two hours. She doesn’t feel better, but hey, it’s nice at the park, free of tension. Suddenly her phone beeps, and call waiting reveals her mother’s number. She switches over and hears the voice of the Lord of Lassitude.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“At the park,” says our heroine.

“With who?”

Our heroine bristles. Apparently, she can’t decide to go to the park by herself; somebody’s got to be there with her.  She informs the voice on the phone that she’s there by herself.

“Are you lying?”

“Why should I lie?” Our heroine’s voice is cold and brittle. “What do you want?”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No thank you. I’ll come home soon.”

Now the voice on the phone sounds annoyed. “I’m already in the car; you don’t have a choice. I’m coming to get you.”

Our heroine hangs up, fuming. They keep telling our heroine that she’s an adult and can do whatever she wants, but then they pull stuff like this. It was broad daylight, and our heroine was three blocks or so from home.

Our heroine is seriously considering doing a fade out on them as soon as she can.

Freeze out

My mother is currently not speaking to me, and is extremely curt when she can’t avoid speaking to me.  I wish she didn’t feel like she has to freeze me out; I don’t know what I did that deserves that.

I’m sorry she feels so angry. I wish I knew what I could do to make this better for her. I know I said some negative things, but I wasn’t saying them to her, and  it was a vent. I don’t know what made her more angry: the fact that I want to leave, or the fact that I didn’t tell her I want to leave.

If I thought she’d actually listen, I would have told her. But I get what I got yesterday: a turned-away body and folded arms. She doesn’t want to hear me, so why be mad when I don’t say?

I didn’t want to talk to her because I knew it would turn into this. I don’t like this; I don’t like confrontation, and I don’t like feeling like I’ve done something horrible simply by telling a friend how I feel and what I think of this situation.

I wish there was a way to defuse the tension.