Pick

Not sleeping. Sitting here pick pick picking away at my fingers. What does that Do? 

I don't even know.

As far as I can tell it does nothing. Well it makes scabs and calluses in the wrong places that make it harder to type on my smartphone. Write. Type. And play guitar. Piano is still ok but otherwise everything that I do hurts more because of it.

I can still stretch at least even with the pain in my fingers. But our hands are the vehicle through which we touch and feel and tell the world who we are. My hands hurt so bad after the last two days. I kind of tried to curb it. Not at all through any will of my own. Only because my best friend and my son ask me too. They see my suffering even when other people are comfortable ignoring it.

Everyone keeps asking me if I am ok.

How do I feel about the fire?
Or something.

This is different than the hurricane. The hurricane was collective strange.  Everyone in the area was effected but then everyone that wasn't, forgot. Grief was collective. There was no feeling of being the only one who understands what you've lost. I don't even feel like I should be asked if I am ok. It isn't my house and my things. And the things in that house were not there longer than 8 months. A few things in each room were a reminder of what they once were. I have one Christmas there in memory. It felt weird and wrong but we were there. And that was all that mattered. Baby Sophie and Garuda made everyone happy because they had no memory of another house so nothing appeared wrong to them.

The roads on the island seem worse every time I am there. I've known that place longer than any other place on this green paved earth and I feel lost and confused there. I wonder how frightening a place it seems to those unfamiliar with what it once was.

I haven't talked about Hurricane Sandy much since it happened and somehow this week it was so prevalent. The holidays. The nostalgia of the holidays and the pinnacle of American normalcy is why suicides spike between Thanksgiving and Christmas day.

I almost Never write around the holidays. For almost my entire life the stress and depression caused by the winter and holiday season kept me from getting good grades or more importantly writing. The pressure to buy to show love leaves all those who can not afford to participate feeling unloving and unloved.

Seeing as how we can't spend a lot of money on anything my husband and I have developed many creative ways to show friends we care about them, going to concerts, offering to watch their kids, making then presents, baking them cookies.

I personally just like to write people letters. I've learned to leave vitriol at the door with the letter writing. Writing is powerful, what we send out will come back or expand so you better have it well thought out. That is a lot of the problem with the world of instant social media. When there is no time lag between when you have a thought and when you send it out to everyone possible, you are more likely to make mistakes or hurt people inadvertently.

I've practiced a lot and now I have much more self control. I can control how I feel about what someone says, if it doesn't directly effect my life. I can control what I say back. I am much more calculated than many people give me credit for.

Some people assume since I say outrageous things that I haven't thought about them. Or that I haven't thoroughly thought through the possible consequences of all that I put out. I guarantee you I have. I assure you, I have. My best friend and I have coined a term for it ever, "Lady Guilt". The constant worry about what other people want you to do or say.

I have spent 99% of my life second guessing myself and trusting other people. I trusted other people so much I believed their fucked up inaccurate version of me. I don't talk too much. You don't like what I have to say. I'm not too loud. Otherwise I was not heard. I'm not slow. I'm biding my time. I'm not weird. I'm different than you. I may not let other people's words thoughts or insecurities dictate what I do or say anymore but I still have the deeply engrained anxious behaviors.

There are chemicals wrong in my brain from all the years I did worry about things that don't matter and I've done a lot of damage. I'm very young though. I know some people never face their issues head on. Some people die without having over come them. And I know that isn't me. I will over come them, I have overcome my shortfalls just by deciding to face them.

On the daily my life is happy and meaningful. On occasion it becomes very dark and meaningful. The darkness is important. You really can't  appreciate life without contrast.

Wondering why I'm so stressed? Read, "How About A Little Fire, Scarecrow?" posted here yesterday and go to the link at the bottom to donate some $$ to my philanthropist Gram and little cousin who lost their home and their kitten.