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Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Humanitarious Depressi-carious


Also known as homo-I-want-to-escape-ien.
It sucks, as many of my familial cohorts, neighbors, blogger buddies, and a bare minimum of 10% of the Canadian population can attest to.

I myself am navigating week three. Now, its certainly a mild case, because I do find my joy section, silly section, and creative section fairly regularly. But hopefully soon I'll come back to re-read this post and feel sorry for that poor sap who felt like she had an elephant napping on her chest. Hopefully soon, all those sections won't be buried beneath that elephant and requiring rigorous extraction to be brought out into the light of day.

But here are some of the symptoms of elephantitis.
I glance up to check the time on my wall clock and recognize for the fiftieth time that it is slow by at least ten minutes. This affects my ability to get the kids up on time for school. All it would take is for me to climb up on the counter top, take down the clock, and turn the dial on the back for about 2 seconds. Oh. Man. Does that sound like a ridiculous amount of effort. *sigh*

I get up and saunter over to the bathroom, past the kids sweaters tossed on the floor, the "IF You Give A Pig A Pancake" story that's been languishing on the bathroom floor for many hours, the damp quilt drying over top the door, and nearly trip over the preschooler's potty stepstool.
*sigh*

Can't quite imagine doing that stuff all over again. I just did it every four or five hours for the past 14 years or more...

So, I sit down. Raise my knuckle to my face and press the skin of my lip to my teeth for a mediational chew. My eyes lock on nothing and stare hypnotically. They kind of burn, even though I went to bed at 9:10 the night before. I do look forward to getting to bed again this evening. It will be my favourite thing to do, and if the kids call me from their bedrooms for additional tuck-ins, I may implore them to come and tuck me in instead. There is nothing more delicious than my pillow and blankie and my dark, warm room.

However. All night long I dream dreams. Anxious dreams of packing, moving, rearranging, squatting in abandoned cabins with refridgerators full of rotting food. Must vacate. Young children left at home alone and unattended. An attic, full to the eaves of boxes full of things. They must be moved, we don't live here anymore. I have no car, I have no time. A rear bedroom, tucked under the eaves. Forgotten. The roof has been leaking and the ceiling has fallen in on the bed. Antique bed, lovely dresser. How will I get them down the stairs? And what about the roof? I should have thought of that- shouldn't have forgotten about that bedroom, shouldn't have allowed it to get to this degree of disrepair.

Go down two levels. A lovely big room- perfect for daycare play. Slanting.... Could it be because of the large sections of attic that have fallen from rot? Long couches. Long, long couches. Are they mine? Should I move them? Is the floor safe? No time.... I've got all those boxes up in the attic. Must get there. There are some incredible tapestries. The colours and patterns are vivid- not at all dream-like. They rest in an amazing cupboard that must not be mine, because I don't live here?

Outdoors it is windswept, treed, lonely.
nothing in sight, yet I know that I am in an unfamiliar city, and that it is not safe here.
I must move. I must find the children, must get back under the eaves.

*sigh*

13 comments:

perrygirl1 said...

I think we all have these dreams at some point. I still have one about lost, unfinished, overdue homework even though I graduated high school 24 years ago. I hate those stupid orange lockers! I don't know why this dream recurrs - I'm pretty sure I handed in all those assignments.
I have also had nightmares of a missing, crying baby. Hard as I search, I've never found him/her. I know why this dream started, I just don't know how to stop it.
Just give me a call when you're ready to move that "antique bed and lovely dresser" and I'll come and help.
(There...I kept my promise!)

joyce said...

oh, you did! And it cheers me.
But now you've opened pandora's box. I have that one as well, with varying themes. Lost in an unfamiliar school. Can't remember which locker is mine. Don't know the combination. First class is math. Haven't been to the lecture... ever? Test today. Past withdrawal date, can't find the admissions office to withdraw in any case. Will likely fail. Are my books in that locker? What about my schedule? what else am I missing?

That one is fairly frequent, and I'vde had it for.... EVER.

Then there's the disappearing baby. The one you remember that you left in a crib, so you panicking, approach the crib just in time to see the child shrink steadily and then disappear. What will I tell the parents?
What about the children that I placed above the wardrobe? Surely they've starved by now?

HOW COULD I??!!

Anonymous said...

Those are my nightmares too. Awful. Laura and Mary in Mary's basement.

P.S. We'll keep our eyes open for any misplaced babies.

Anonymous said...

That is quite the quote on your am......but pretty much the truth........MK

Rosa said...

I'm in school walking past the lockers everyone is in class but me and I'm naked trying desperatly to figure out where to hide when the buzzer will ring and everyone will pour out of thier class rooms.

Judy said...

I always dream that I have to go to the bathroom and every time I think I find one, there is no toilet.

sigh.

Roo said...

xo did your kids tuck you in tonight?

Anonymous said...

I always dream that we are still living in our little house and there is no room for anything....and I always dream that all my teeth are falling out and I am trying to hold them in place...weird L-lew

Jennie C. said...

You describe the elephant so well - thanks for your voice - it helps me to find mine.

Anonymous said...

recurring dream - I am out trick or treating and dare to go the scary ladies house on the corner by the bowling alley. I go because my dad told me she really isn't "that bad", just lonely. And you really should go because she would love to see you and besides you'll get alot of candy, because no one goes there. This part is actually true in real life - this old lady and her house were on my way to elementary school everyday. And somedays she would be outside washing her very long white hair in a metal tub and in the midst of the long wet dripping hair she would look over and nod. Scared the crap out of me! And even though she scared me, I really did feel sorry for her and really did go trick or treating there with my little brother...and did get lots of stuff....

Anyway, back to the dream - She invites us in and we sit at the kitchen table. She goes to the other room, where we can't see her and start getting scared. Just then she reappears, with sharp teeth and 2 pitbulls or something and we run for our lives - trying to find a door or window that will open. Screaming and running and trying not to leave my little brother behind, finally find a window to slide up and get out. Get my brother out and am just climbing through and the dogs are right behind me. I just have to get through and through the barbed wire fence and we will be fine!!!! But I always woke up in a sweat at the point where I have one leg out and am trying to get the other leg through the window. Ahhhhhh!!

Haven't had it for awhile, but still think about it lots.

Sylvia Plath - is that excerpt on the back of a piece of wood?? Enlarge picture - no, an arm, like a tattoo.... My daughter just got a Japanese strength symbol tattooed on her inner wrist...I think she would have gotten this verse instead if she could have. Sylvia reminds me of her, Sylvia is her stable, go to person right now. Makes me scared sometimes and at other times relieved. Is Sylvia helping her or mixing her up??

This blog reminds me of her and even me somedays and I miss her. So Much....

joyce said...

you miss your daughter? or Sylvia Plath?

you know, this blog post is one of those ones that could splinter off and start another whole bunch of conversations, thoughts, wonders.

I have a thing about dreams. I think they mean something. Just writing about my house dream here made me cry on the day I wrote it. I know there is a lot of symbolism and untapped emotion there.

Sometimes I wish we took dream analysis seriously like they did back in King David's day. Well, I'm sure some people do, but no one in my circles...

Anonymous said...

miss my daughter, terribly, but she is ok, at least I think so. She's in a different time zone, across the ocean, doing something that she has always dreamt of...and I hate to say this, but I think she thinks this trip will finally make her happy, but I fear that she is, in between her brief sparks of happiness, missing what she left behind, very much. Because it is familiar and feels safe in an odd way. She is looking for away to escape, find a better life, but is too young to realize that your life follows you like a shadow wherever you go. It's really up to her to do something different with it, in between the times that the elephant is sitting on her chest. She is caught up in the world of instant everything. Instant text messages, instant conversation, instant cash....and is realizing that most of the time, life is boring....unless you get up off of your behind and do something to change it. I think her trip is a step towards that, but when she comes home, it will still be here and even during the quiet times on her adventure. I say that sometimes boring is good - it lets me rewind, not worry about the clutter, not worry about stuff....

And I know that anonymous is a chicken's way out - but am thinking of letting her in on you little blog and she would be hurt if I left my name for the world or at least Southern Manitoba to see... Hope you understand.

joyce said...

I think that "anonymous" should also be viewed as a safety net. I don't think it is necessarily "chicken", especially when you are respecting your daughter as you are.

You don't have to reveal your identity for your reality to have validity. (geez, that's almost poetic! Am I Sylvia Plath?) har, har.

I'm actually grateful that you put it down here. Makes me think. Empathize.