Kamikaze

Some days I feel like I’m going just a bit crazy.  This feeling is ‘common’ or so they say in the grief literature.  Still, when one is experiencing said crazy spell, it can be a tad disconcerting.  Take tonight (really week) for instance.  I started a new job on Monday, which for the most part looks promising.  Back in the day when Craig and Mom were still around, I’d fill their ears with all the little tidbits and out-there personalities, but, as I wrap up my first Friday on the job, I find myself at home watching Music and Lyrics for the second time this week.  The details, funny stories, and frustrating moments remain locked inside for them to be eventually forgotten, or fodder for angry moments in the days to come.  (Fodder would look something like this:  I have a running one liner prepared for when someone asks me how I’m doing.  “Uh, not well, and I’ll tell you why:  it’s because my Mom and brother are dead.”  Harsh, but it gets the point across.  (On most days, I think the whole Mom and brother gone thing is completely lost on people, but that’s another rant altogether.)

Suffice it to say that dealing with simultaneous losses alone leaves much to be desired.  On most nights, I cry myself to sleep, which takes awhile since I haven’t been sleeping.  On others, I find myself blankly staring at the mirror.  I can hold a stare for minutes without a single thought passing.  Amazing.  Then there are the moments when I want to scream, run away, toss myself off a building, or throw something -- anything.  Tonight, I succombed to the urge and resorted to throwing a used cardboard toilet roll, which I thought was a nice, harmless compromise.  Thankfully, the crazy tantrums tend to be confined to the bathroom where there’s a mirror.  Maybe I secretly need the company, but it’s nice to at least see someone -- even if it’s me. 

At least I was laugh-crying when the moment occurred.  I’ve been feeling, well, frustrated for the past days.  Being here in Bangkok alone, and twelve hours away from my usual sounding boards, leaves a nice garbage pile of moments for the mind to wander.  For the most part, I do a fair job keeping it all in, but then there are those wacko moments when I need immediate release of the thoughts, waking dreams, and profound sadness that seem to follow me each day.  I’m sure people experiencing loss can relate.  It’s hard to explain, but I feel at once angry, sad, content, and scattered.  It’s as close to schizophrenic as I can imagine, and the associated feelings are just as troublesome. 

Going to the gym helps.  I haven’t been this fit since our Stillwater swim team won the State Championship.  But there are only so many hours one can spend hitting the weights and treadmill before sustaining a serious injury.  And if that were to occur, I’d be out my only escape.  So, used toilet paper rolls it is.  What a relief it is to throw something two feet…towards a mirror...and at myself.  It’s strange and a tad simple, but incredibly effective all the same, especially when the alternative is more hours in the gym.  Plus, it made me laugh. 

Aw, the little things …  -- J