its just not my gift‏

September 19, 2011

watermellon = it really IS like a drink
and the juices run down my beard
when We were at college
i didnt sleep good – i dont ever remember sleeping good or well
but i would walk the dorm looking for food
and hapless victims of nonsense
the only folks usually up = the crowd playing video games
or johnny catfish rempell doing who knows what
but doing it in multicolored mc hammer gypsy pants and bitterness
and therefore making it awesome
or falcon watching faces of death VII: making it look easy
or VIII: life, it just wasn’t my gift
or faces of death special edition: oh shhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit_.
i didnt want these things
i wanted my friends to wake up and close the suck valve for me…
and then i would get off of work late some friday night
and return to the dorm to find Risk well under way and an all nighter declared
too late to join and i was sick from not sleeping the last 4 nights (resentment)
and couldnt afford to stay up on purpose
now i need to sleep.  where are my friends?
where is the fucking suck valve – somebody PLEASE shut it off.
we went to florida
in the middle of the night – all night drive
we stopped at a rest area
Joe me and another guy ran a foot race – a sprint
Joe won
him in his floppy canvas shoes and black denim jean shorts
that was awesome!
at the time i didnt tell him that.
there is not a store for baptistery parts
but there are stores for communion stuff
like matza and little plastic cups.
it is very satisfying
when a self tapping sheet metal screw grabs hold and sinks like butter.
so a few weeks ago we went to south dakota – it was awesome
i hiked 25 miles in 2 days – 8 of these with my daughter on my shoulders
15 gloriously alone
the miles were filled with stories and once in a lifetimes
but a bit much for my body
esp. my feet – 2 toenails died
1 came off – the other one seemed worse so i ripped it off
you WHAT?
i committed an act of brutality against my self
self inflicted torture
and now my toe is like a little sausage swollen with infection
it hurts so bad
i wrote the above at about 4am sunday morning after a day of putting a new furnace (with help) in our house (and trying to get it done)
and then going to work after midnite…
the ambien had definitely kicked in
at least by the sheetmetal screws reference
and then, later, i wrote:
i have dropped off the charts below tolerance again
i think as i get older my depression is getting worse
it is terrifying
my friends,
i am beyond self pity, but not beyond humiliation
i am beyond exhaustion, but not beyond duty
i am beyond self actualization, but not beyond rumination
i am beyond motivation, but not beyond guilt
i just feel like apologizing
just feel like screaming “Help Me”
either seems to much work
and yet i am at work
dizzy, trying, wallowing
writing when i should be running some electric, etc. for a new TV so that nursing mothers can watch the sermon while…
my new band name =   “Maintenance and the Electric Etcetera”
i cannot quite get my eyes to focus –
there are like tracers when i move my head
i cannot stop the bile from rising, to pull back from the edge of panic
“goodmorning Shawn how are you?”
“Ummmmmmm…………….moving forward – how are you?”
but probably not really
moving forward – limping on a sausage toe
crawling, pulling myself along the ground with bloody fingertips
disgusted – absolutely with my aggrandizing drama
depression =
1. the unwillingness or lack of ability to get over oneself
2. the inability to imagine a future joy
                               that could justify the current suffering
3. a cell phone ringing or child crying when you are finally alone
4. knowing the suck valve is open and drowning while trying to shut it
5. crushing perceived responsibility – which could be as little as
      staying alive or looking at some one as they speak to you
6. soul killing lack of ambition
      coupled with the inability to accomplish anything
7. lack of time.
8.          “
9.  ???????????.
10. lack of time.
you should wonder how my wife survives this.
with grace, tiredness and love
nothing about me makes her life any easier
and yet
i had left the first part of this post onscreen
when i was crushed to sleep in the chair
when i saw it again this was written…”I love you.  I have loved you through all of this and that love has only gotten deeper, and stronger and more real with each story in the making–whether it’s made up of self inflicted tragedy, life time experiences, or just the ho-hum of life.  Thank you for being my companion.  I desperately wish I could always close your “life sucks” valve.  You know if it were within my power I would.  I pray for you. I love you. I long for you to be healed and whole. I cherish you. I treasure you just the way you are–though I do wish you’d listen to me when I ask you to stop torturing yourself. You are the best thing in my life.  You are my life. I will never regret that choice–ever.”
and thus
there is light, there is love and grace
there might even be a caring God…….maybe…..
I at least have an Unfair Advantage, that i do not deserve
there is a ladder thrown down into my box (full of suckwater)
so that when i am able to climb out
it will be to an embrace that i can feel
and even in here – i remember
but i am so sorry
about everything
including this:
my wife would not want me to “publish” her private note to me
i think she will understand
how else can i explain
why/how i survive?
by her love, for the kids
and because of the deep care, interest, concern and love of my friends
and so many others
thank you
i feel better
this is pretty raw
and therefore embarrassing
but i want to share it with you
for sympathy for understanding for support
for us all

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