I was driving down 512 the other day feeling so-so and got hit with a psychotic tsunami. I can't think of a better way to describe the dirge of emotions that swept over me mingled with an edge of insanity. Prior to the wave, I thought I was feeling pretty good, well, fair to middlin' as dad used to say. Then a complete emotional meltdown with all the toppings; harsh weeping with hiccups in-between, the ugly hard stuff. Thinking about Kenny, mom, the last few months with dad, all the unknown crap waiting in the future...I was pummelled, literally and figuratively tossed about for a moment that felt like forever. The experts would probably call what I had an anxiety attack. Perhaps, if we have to put a name to it. I still prefer psychotic tsunami. I almost pulled over to let it pass, but I didn't. I kept driving, wiping back tears with a sniffle-hiccup combo, taking it for granted God would take the wheel and get me where I needed to be. He always does.
I wonder when this will all pass. This thing we go through, this place we're in. I hate being at the in-between spot. Kind of like a bomb went off, scattering pieces of life every which way, and we're left, pathetic in our feeble attempts to put everything back together again; just stumbling along. Some people seem to do it so much better than others. I wonder why that is? Are they just better at pretending? I wish I knew. Jimmy and I are a lot alike in many ways; he doesn't know how to pretend anymore, any better than I do. So he stays away, hidden behind the painkillers, while I take refuge at night behind the mist of sleep.
Whatever.
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