amazing
in this tiny place
enormous emotions
the stimulation is small
home is all we are
where nothing can touch us
safe
still we twitch
wage battles
wound one another
cry hysterically
when the chaos butterfly
flaps its wings indoors
the storm concentrates,
inescapable.
I thought I wasn’t the type to lean on people, but I found myself reeling when that support was lifted.
We are not islands. Why rely on yourself when you can make other people responsible for your health and sanity? They are usually happy to help.
Here is how I’m regaining my balance.
I am not especially reliable, especially where exercise is concerned. Having made a promise to a friend is one of the few things that get me out there and moving, and I’m always glad when I have done it.
When isolation began, I really foundered in this area. I was afraid to go outside, I was too depressed to get moving. Exercise videos on youtube were a lifesaver. Doing a video alone is painful and grating and you’re relieved to be done. Doing them with somebody else on videochat makes it hilarious, and you want to do more.
Now I’m pushing my friends to schedule exercise time with me. It’s good for them too, they love it, I’m sure they’re very grateful (heh). Even just going for a run while keeping the phone to my ear and talking to somebody else running, is oddly comforting and connecting. We could both enjoy the beautiful things we saw outside, and describe them to each other. Proximity being no object, I can now run with a friend who lives in Kansas City who I rarely get to see. I have a feeling I’m going to keep doing this even after lockdown is lifted. I have more workout companions than ever!
It’s nice, because more of my siblings can get involved this way. It’s fun to just set your phone on the countertop and get out your ingredients, compare recipes, show off your freshly baked cookies, eat them together.
It’s just as gratifying to sit down with your own cold-brew coffee or iced chai latte. There’s a little work involved, but think of the preparation time as a luxury. You don’t get annoyed at the work involved in drawing a bath and lighting up candles, do you?
Yeah, this has no bearing on the topic. It’s just something that I learned. Apparently, if you floss BEFORE you brush, then the gaps are opened up between your teeth, and the fluoride from the toothpaste can get in there and work its magic. This assertion is still being personally tested by me, but it makes sense. Once upon a time, I didn’t believe in fluoride, and my teeth rotted. Now I believe in fluoride. I pray to fluoride every night, I perform the fluoride ritual, and it answers my prayers. In fluoride there is strength.
Yes, 80% of my coping habits are food-centric. Hush.
In order to get the same quantity of people-hours into my week, this is necessary. If I skip too many days in a row, I find myself drifting.
There is a squirrel in the walls. I have been battling it for months but I’ve been driven to new levels of insanity by its scrabbling and nibbling right above my head. If you see a crazy lady in pajamas stalking her roof with a knife, look away.
Headphones help. Fantasizing squirrel murder helps. These are not healthy strategies. I’m still working on this one.
When there’s something you can’t hold
When what you are is not allowed
When the people you know best aren’t real
While the real people don’t know you at all
When your soul has gone off
Like a brown avocado
And the only thing in this world that feels right
Is the knife in your hand
Breaking the rules
Unleashing hell
Blade scrapes bone.
By another’s death
You acknowledge your own existence
You are alive
For a moment.
But what is left to fill
The countless minutes between stabbings
Except bleakness
She exhaled. The air froze her breath, turning it to mist.
She turned, her high ponytail bouncing, and headed towards the fridge.
In her home hung icy stalactites. The floor was slick as a rink.
She cracked off an icicle as she passed through a door and picked her teeth with it.
Once this room was stiflingly warm, full of chaos and arguments and pets and children and steaming meals. Every blanket was a shared blanket. There wasn’t enough house to go around.
Now things were much better.
She checked her fridge and swore to herself. There wasn’t enough milk for her to make the ice cream. It was already time for another grocery run?
Grabbing her keys, she put on a visor and sunglasses, a light shawl, considered sunblock but decided against it.
When she opened the door, the sun hit her hard, even through the sunglasses. She took a deep breath of conditioned air before heading out. Her mantra would get her through this: only five minutes, only five minutes. Then she could be back home, making ice cream, enjoying the cold dark quiet isolation of her safe, safe house. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to talk to a single person.
Fresh Hell 