Is 32 hours too little too late to take a slice and zoom into the nucleus of each neurotransmitter firing and shutting down in rapid succession? It hasn't brought the ingredients and blended into a cake of reality I can taste. The fear and disbelief lay behind my eyes ready to drown the silence in tears if I didn't distract each bit terror swimming to the surface of a break down.

Keep applying direct pressure to the wound... it can always be fixed...

There is heavy breathing and legs that multiply to compromise the comfort of every position. Why are these dogs drawn to you when you want most is to lay upon a mattress of no guilt and no responsibility?

The breathing settles into a mere hum only to have the oxygen bullied by the silent gas that strikes an assault with every breath. Should not have fed them treats of fatty meat otherwise thrown away. But this breathing and these legs and these smells belong to animals that were taken in and have inserted themselves right alongside the youngest family member expecting to be equal. So goes another night of sacrificing selfish time for space in which another is given room and love.

06/18/12

Your shadow snuck up on me even though I know you're gone. I walk that block at night under emotions that flare stronger than the one street light. A breeze brushed my shoulder and I turned instinctively to chat with you. But you're not there. You were. You still are at night by my side...always.

My little girl, whose not so little, pleads with me to add songs to her playlist on my iPod. So I scramble through my library of songs I once loved, downloaded for free, and still sometimes cling to in order to find something "new" to her. She's now a fan of The Beatles and Ray Charles. I love that kid.

No, I didn't forget about you, blog. I've been avoiding you.

I begin with an idea of how I want to tell a story and then there's no room on the board and no matter how many times I swap tiles I end up with letters that only spell six points.

I used to write better. I used to write- period. Maybe I wasn't that good. Maybe that's not the point. I used to read what I had written and it was a close translation to my feelings. The posts I didn't write could fill a Top 100 / Best Of Engrish.com list for how poorly my emotions and thoughts were translated into the English language.

My blog. As if I own you. I don't. I have permission to post things until someone decides I don't any longer.

There are so many bite-sized stories that could fill only a paragraph. Then there is the list of things I'm cautious about putting online. I embarrassed my daughter last night and she called me a life-ruiner. I wanted to share something touching she did for someone and she buried herself in a blanket.

People (the proverbial "they") will tell you how fast time with a child goes by and to soak it all in as if you could put it in a bottle. I wish in some ways I could go back to when I had my tiny baby, but I'd only take more pictures and a ton of video. I don't want to go back. I like where we are now. Even if sometimes I don't want to be the grown-up.

I hate "what-ifs" as much as I hate bell peppers. Give me reality. Give me now. I'll get to the next part when it's time.

It's 12:47 a.m. and the anxiety has inflated and is seeping out into the air.

I acquiesce and almost run to take my 'Calm the freak down' pill (Xanex). But only half. I haven't taken it for a few days, and a whole pill may leave me too groggy to make it to class on time in the morning.

I can barely hold on to the names of my anxieties as I reach to calm them down or throw them far from the reach of my conscious mind.

I miss my dog.
I want another dog.
I can't really devote enough time or energy to a dog right now.

Why did it take me so long to realize Lucia could be dyslexic? Why did no one else notice?
What if she's not? How many tests are there available for learning disabilities?
When is the school going to test her?
Why haven't they tested her yet- it's been 24 hours!

Final projects are due next week. I'll miss my classmates- I'll have to work to keep in touch.

Too many bad habits.
Still too much fear.

So many good things, too.
Love my bed.