a. seeing a giant rat cross the kitchen floor.
b. hallucinating that rat.
29 June 2011
28 June 2011
please, mr. postman
i have written the most honest letter of my life. sadly, it only scratches the surface of what is true because i don't have words for how sinister i really am.
i've been holding a mirror to you, and haven't understood why i only see myself. now i know. it was always me.
25 June 2011
24 June 2011
vi
"let's be given enough chance. our curse ignores these sweet offerings; not one ever chooses to read them. disconnection! where is the precision? the guts?" my fingers rub the seam of your scalp. i thought of the plain, white bar that scrubs troubles deeper into your head, rather than wash them right out. damn it. soap's stark, square nothingness can't absorb any of this terror. this dearly loved mind is caving in on itself and you don't even feel it. soon i won't understand you at all; your language will be too obscure. a white wall of noisy thoughts will brick up between us.
03 June 2011
i'll be peace, you be quiet
yesterday was both wonderful and agonizing.
i think, by the end of the night, i'd made up my mind. i found support in two of my favorite places -- my grandmother and my best friend.
my gramma surprised me by really listening to me and objectively considering what i had to say. i know her real wish is for me to settle down with a house, husband, and 401k. i tried to explain that pursuing this is me settling down. i can't have those things without first dealing with my internal turbulence. i talked to her about the healing aspect of this and how maybe, just maybe, i might be looking for God, too. i don't want to get her hopes up. more than the nuclear family, what she wants for me is to believe. she seems relieved that i was baptized at one point, that i am saved. i asked her, very carefully, how to talk to God. even here, it's hard for me to say "pray." she was surprised, but ready. first, i should say the Lord's prayer. i started to rattle it off, amused that after all these years it comes back so quickly, like the pledge of allegiance. she stopped me and we went through each line together, translating. after that, i should ask for forgiveness. then, i just talk. also, this should be done at least once a day, every day. a ritual.
there are some instruments at work that are set up to allow the manufacturer to upload information about it at any time. i assumed that a relationship with God would be similar. i mean, it's omnipotent, right? the connection is always open; God can see into my heart at any time, or all the time. last night, i realized that the purpose of prayer is not for God to hear me, but for me to hear God.
i've been distraught, to say the least, for the last few months. in the past couple of weeks, i've been thinking of heroin. i felt a strong desire to just give my life away to something because i don't seem to have the energy to manage it anymore. the first thing i thought of was dope. i could just float away, into nothing. straightforward suicide just isn't my bag, you know?
i told my best friend about this desire in a text message two days ago. this is particularly significant because she is a recovering junkie. i worried that it might hurt her to hear me say these things, but i am nothing if not honest. and really, she's the expert. she knows.
we talked on the phone last night about it, intermixed with my ideas of travel and and spirituality. of course, by then i knew i didn't really want to start shooting dope, but what was i trying to give away? then it just kind of hit me that people finding Faith describe their lives in those kinds of terms. they say, "let go, and let God," or more directly, "give it up to God."
we laughed at me, saying that we couldn't believe i'm thinking about these things, much less expressing them. sarah catton has been a bitter cynic for too long. i've done it with humor, sure, and people have been attracted to that scathing wit, but it's just exhausting now. and i don't really need it anymore. i don't need protection like i did when i was a kid. it's okay to be sincere; my feelings are not a target to be destroyed anymore.
i think, by the end of the night, i'd made up my mind. i found support in two of my favorite places -- my grandmother and my best friend.
my gramma surprised me by really listening to me and objectively considering what i had to say. i know her real wish is for me to settle down with a house, husband, and 401k. i tried to explain that pursuing this is me settling down. i can't have those things without first dealing with my internal turbulence. i talked to her about the healing aspect of this and how maybe, just maybe, i might be looking for God, too. i don't want to get her hopes up. more than the nuclear family, what she wants for me is to believe. she seems relieved that i was baptized at one point, that i am saved. i asked her, very carefully, how to talk to God. even here, it's hard for me to say "pray." she was surprised, but ready. first, i should say the Lord's prayer. i started to rattle it off, amused that after all these years it comes back so quickly, like the pledge of allegiance. she stopped me and we went through each line together, translating. after that, i should ask for forgiveness. then, i just talk. also, this should be done at least once a day, every day. a ritual.
there are some instruments at work that are set up to allow the manufacturer to upload information about it at any time. i assumed that a relationship with God would be similar. i mean, it's omnipotent, right? the connection is always open; God can see into my heart at any time, or all the time. last night, i realized that the purpose of prayer is not for God to hear me, but for me to hear God.
i've been distraught, to say the least, for the last few months. in the past couple of weeks, i've been thinking of heroin. i felt a strong desire to just give my life away to something because i don't seem to have the energy to manage it anymore. the first thing i thought of was dope. i could just float away, into nothing. straightforward suicide just isn't my bag, you know?
i told my best friend about this desire in a text message two days ago. this is particularly significant because she is a recovering junkie. i worried that it might hurt her to hear me say these things, but i am nothing if not honest. and really, she's the expert. she knows.
we talked on the phone last night about it, intermixed with my ideas of travel and and spirituality. of course, by then i knew i didn't really want to start shooting dope, but what was i trying to give away? then it just kind of hit me that people finding Faith describe their lives in those kinds of terms. they say, "let go, and let God," or more directly, "give it up to God."
we laughed at me, saying that we couldn't believe i'm thinking about these things, much less expressing them. sarah catton has been a bitter cynic for too long. i've done it with humor, sure, and people have been attracted to that scathing wit, but it's just exhausting now. and i don't really need it anymore. i don't need protection like i did when i was a kid. it's okay to be sincere; my feelings are not a target to be destroyed anymore.
02 June 2011
write it out
i have a terrible time making decisions. once, a therapist told me to write a pros/cons list, and i basically told her to fuck off. lists can't help me because i can make equally convincing arguments for and against each option. paralysis is the only consistent outcome.
i'm lost right now in one of those confusions. on paper, it makes perfect sense. my heart's desires are not so clear.
the strong Woman inside me believes being in self-exile will show me true freedom. the panicky child can only see isolation and heartbreak. another therapist constantly urged me to re-parent myself. maybe this Woman can console the child and make it work. then again, being a single mother always means struggle.
if i choose pseudo-asceticism, i have to remember that choice every minute of every day. i can't let myself be discouraged by passing loneliness or worry. i must take care of myself.
it's a big jump. really big. i've "wanted" this since my schooldays, right?
the problem is that i'm not really given much time to consider it. it's like freefalling and pulling the ripcord at just the right time. if i'm too hasty or too hesitant, i might not make it.
paradoxically, the thing that tugs at me to stay is the same thing that motivates me to go. i've become very close to these people, whether they know it or not. have i been putting down roots only to rip them out now? or perhaps i poisoned the tree a long time ago. my absence can give them their normal lives back.
am i martyring myself? it seems that way. i feel like walking away from this intimate, if unrequited, support system i love is the only honorable thing i can do. falling on the sword can bring honor back to them.
or maybe it isn't for their benefit. maybe i'm martyring myself for myself. i have to sacrifice the external me for the internal. i have to find her.
i'm lost right now in one of those confusions. on paper, it makes perfect sense. my heart's desires are not so clear.
the strong Woman inside me believes being in self-exile will show me true freedom. the panicky child can only see isolation and heartbreak. another therapist constantly urged me to re-parent myself. maybe this Woman can console the child and make it work. then again, being a single mother always means struggle.
if i choose pseudo-asceticism, i have to remember that choice every minute of every day. i can't let myself be discouraged by passing loneliness or worry. i must take care of myself.
it's a big jump. really big. i've "wanted" this since my schooldays, right?
the problem is that i'm not really given much time to consider it. it's like freefalling and pulling the ripcord at just the right time. if i'm too hasty or too hesitant, i might not make it.
paradoxically, the thing that tugs at me to stay is the same thing that motivates me to go. i've become very close to these people, whether they know it or not. have i been putting down roots only to rip them out now? or perhaps i poisoned the tree a long time ago. my absence can give them their normal lives back.
am i martyring myself? it seems that way. i feel like walking away from this intimate, if unrequited, support system i love is the only honorable thing i can do. falling on the sword can bring honor back to them.
or maybe it isn't for their benefit. maybe i'm martyring myself for myself. i have to sacrifice the external me for the internal. i have to find her.
exchange rate
from the simpsons --
bart: if fairy tales have taught us one thing, it's that first wives are perfect -- second wives are horrible.
homer: just the opposite of real life.
bart: if fairy tales have taught us one thing, it's that first wives are perfect -- second wives are horrible.
homer: just the opposite of real life.
01 June 2011
this and that
i love this ...
feeling
experience
time away
smell of your hair
place where i can be myself
but not you, exactly.
feeling
experience
time away
smell of your hair
place where i can be myself
but not you, exactly.
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