Crushed

I usually know where to begin.  Today, I don't.

I thought things would be better by now.  Not great, but steadily improving.

They aren't.  I'm not.

I know it all comes down to me.  I have to do the work.

I've said that so often, it's starting to leave a mark.

There is work all around me, in the clutter, in the boxes I'm afraid to open, in the piano I never play anymore.  There is work all within me, in the "official illness," in the emotional brokenness.  I am crushed under the weight of it all.

Do one thing every day, she says (I need a clever moniker for my therapist).

Except no one would ask you to do one thing if there were a refrigerator laying on you.  Surely, instead, someone would say, "Oh, my god, let me help you get that refrigerator off of you."  Or, "Are you all right?  That looks heavy and painful."  Or even just notice it.  "Wow, that chick has a refrigerator laying on her."

I've told people about the refrigerator.  Some people have even seen it.  No one helps me, though.

I guess here is where I have to admit that I don't receive help well and I have been known, often, to push people away as I crawl farther under the refrigerator.  I'm trying to think of the people who are close enough to me in my life who could and maybe should try to help, and trying to think if they have and if I made them leave...

Yeah, maybe.  Probably.

There were also a few whom I did try to let help, and they really hurt me instead.  

Stuff crushes me.  Big stuff, medium stuff... sometimes even the small stuff.  It pushes me down.  I don't know how to stop it from happening.

P (new moniker?) says, "Say, 'Fuck off.'  They don't matter."  I'd LIKE to do that...  Maybe I'll just do it here.  I think I will.  One thought I had when I sat down was to write open letters to some of the assholes.  Ha.  So here we go.

Dear RayTay's daughter, You were every bit as down as I was.  How dare you diss me for having the very same problems you had?  Fuck off.

Dear SmittyB, I tried to forgive you for all the shit at work.  When you're right there, it's easy to try to let the past be in the past.  Now that you're not there, though, well... I'm kind of glad.  I wish you the best, but kind of hope our paths don't cross again.  You don't have to fuck off.  Just stay the fuck off.

Dear Emotional Cripple, My friend gave you that nickname only knowing that you are emotionally unavailable.  The rest is total coincidence.  You're angry and bitter and alone and you have nothing to offer me.  That's a bummer, but it's no longer my concern.  Fuck off.

Dear Bottom-of-the-Barrell, What a dick.  "Take the weekend and mull it over, but I won't mention that during that time, I'll sleep with someone else..."  It blows my mind that you, an unemployed high-school dropout who lives with his mother and has no driver's license, are now with a beautiful, intelligent, activist woman.  It blows my mind even more that I discovered this because I was thisclose to contacting you to make myself feel better.  I take responsibility for the hurt I suffered because of you.  It feels great to tell you to fuck the fuck off.

Dear local S.O.B., The phrase, "You're not ugly" is NOT a compliment.  Fuck off.

Dear gun-nut S.O.B., You are scary and mean.  Fuck off.

Dear Midwest S.O.B., Your "I care about you"s and your "emotional connection"s... they're all part of your act as a player.  You do better at the shallow end of the pool.  Fuck off.

Sigh.

That was a lot of "fuck off."  I have no idea if I feel better or not.

And even if I did, the world is still there.  The guns and death, the politics and this horrid election season, the world and its pain...  Can I tell all those things to fuck off, too?  Just float the fuck away because I want to be happy?  Because that's what I want.  I want to be able to live in this world and be the amazing person I'm supposed to be, and NOT be crushed by the pain and hurt.

I have things to do, for fuck's sake.  I have a beautiful kid to raise and teach and have fun with.  I'm a glorious catch and I need to let someone catch me.

So how the hell do I get out from under the refrigerator?

I don't know.

Ask for help, maybe...?

Maybe.

I'm going to leave with a song of hope, which is not what I really wanted.  I had another song in mind.  But I'll be honest, I feel like I'm at a tipping point right now.  I feel like if I choose the other song, the song that speaks to and of the crushing darkness I've been feeling, it would push me in a direction I shouldn't go.  It's the direction I sort of FEEL like going - underneath a heavier fridge, if you will - but I think it might crush parts of me for good if I go too much further that way.

I don't want to be crushed for good.

So here's to hope.