That choking feeling

2 12 2010

Just got floored with some crappy news, and I feel like I’m to blame. It’s not a feeling that I am entirely at fault, just that I could have kept my mouth shut and then everything would be fine.

But it won’t be, because it’s actually not acceptable to keep my mouth shut when it comes to an issue like the one that had come up.

And now the familiar old lump in my throat is back, and it tastes like bitter guilt.

The only consolation there is is that “always You remain with me” as the song by Christian City Youth on iTunes is saying right now.

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Overwhelmed with guilt. Could I have done more?

12 12 2009

At lunch today, I saw the four of them trail behind those two teachers who could be so supportive and loving, and it never even occured to me to pray for them, whatever the meeting they were going in to was going to be about. I overheard as I was leaving that they were in trouble, but I didn’t even consider these particular actions as possible consequences.

I should have been praying. I just should have been praying.





I know nothing about cars

14 10 2009

I was on my way to work when 2nd gear broke down for me. I drove the whole way in 3rd and may have killed my car as a result. It’s at the garage, recuperating… I suck.

crushedcars

To completely change the subject, I can’t wait until this dissertation is over and done with. What I could do is really work on it, instead of procrastinating and blogging about how much I want it to be over. Instead, I spent 4 hours this evening with a friend, playing with her son and generally just catching up. 4 HOURS. It was good though; I’m getting close to forgetting what it’s like to have friends that aren’t a decade younger than me.

I have to admit though that I’m starting to feel a little guilty about not blogging on a somewhat-regular basis. Of all the semi-resolutions I made at the beginning of the year, this is the only one that I’m even moderately working on. What is the deal about resolutions that they’re so easily abandoned? What is the point of them?

Obviously these questions are more rhetorical than anything; I just can’t understand myself sometimes.

And then there’s the irrational mood-swings I’ve been having lately. If I were older, I’d just use menopause as an excuse. But of course I don’t even have that. Jeeez.





what if i say

13 12 2007

today, it’s been one thing after another. for the last month, it’s been one thing after another. i have ached to do so many things, but have not been able to for one reason or another. i can’t live by what i feel any more.

i’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for a month now. i’ve been taking little pink pills every morning and a little maroon and burgundy pill after dinner every night for a month now. i haven’t been able to see past this fog for a month now.

i’m supposed to become better soon, in a couple more months i’ll be alright, the doc says. i don’t like him.

the tears seem to just be there, and it’s hard to breathe, but harder still to not talk about it. how do i articulate what i can’t even put into words?

i feel trapped. in the privacy of my room now, with this light on my desk on the keys of my laptop, with my notes for the term papers in front of me, all i can see are the shadows that are formed by the light that just doesn’t… reach.

i feel so guilty, like i’m supposed to be a happy, joyful person who is strong, brave, outgoing, independent, free but i’m just not quite making the cut for the improvisation scene. helping the students practice their pieces for the drama events in the speech festival this year was exciting and brutal. i just don’t feel… it. this guilt i feel is not real, just like this heaviness is temporary. i wish i could run like a child again, safe in the knowledge that this moment is it. there’s no past, no future, nothing except for the… what?

but the shittiest thing is that i don’t want to feel this way; i know that there’s so much more to life than this, but this is hurting me quite a bit and i don’t know what to do about it, because it feels like i’m just waiting. i don’t want to leave my job, but i don’t want to stay. i seem to have lost my ability to decide for myself. i expect i’ll regret writing this, but they’re coming now, and the angry beating in my ears is holding back the lump in my throat.