Friday, February 19, 2016

A Big Event

My neighbor is working in his yard and has his radio on full blast and I can't complain because my husband does this too when he is working outside sometimes and my across-the-street neighbor does the same. He listens to NPR and my neighbor is listening to classic rock which is better than say, Rush Limbaugh.
I'm almost quaking today with anxiety and don't even ask me why, I don't know.
Last night I felt peaceful and good and I'm so sick of this and for someone who's never experienced it, it probably sounds so self-involved and petty.
But when you have anxiety, it's like constantly waking up feeling certain you smell smoke and every one of your senses tells you that a vast fire is about to suddenly ignite and although the day is beautiful and your house and home and children and barns and animals are all fine and well, they are undoubtably about to be consumed in flame.

Ugh. I can't write with this brain, with those guitar licks cutting through the air, the ads for personal injury attorneys blasting out.

It's all right. I'm about to go to town soon to meet Lily and Gibson and Magnolia and we're going to have lunch and run some errands and then after Owen is picked up, we are coming back here to watch the Amtrak train go by. This is a big thing and the train is stopping in Tallahassee- they are trying to restore an Amtrak route here and maybe if we wave, the passengers will wave back. Who knows? But wouldn't that be nice?
What will the people think when they go through Lloyd? Will they see my chicken coop, my old house, the ancient, spreading oak trees, two women and two little boys and a babe in arms, all of us waving hello-hello-good-bye-good-bye! and then they'll pass the old Lloyd train station where I get my mail and fly down the tracks headed east and will they wonder about what life is like here? Will they feel as if they have not just traveled through space but back through time?

They couldn't have picked a prettier day.

No. I do not smell smoke. I do not. All is well and all will be well and anxiety lies and so I breathe in, breathe out, taking in the cool clean air of Lloyd which is lovely, except for that dratted noise.
The train will drown it out. For a few moments, at least, and oh, how we will wave!

Here we are. Do you see us?
Here we are. I swear.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Oh Mary there is nothing petty about anxiety IT'S FUCKING AWFUL. Be good to yourself. If you need to stay safe in your house or your bed do it. Take it easy. Eat breakfast for dinner but let someone else cook it. Have some sweet tea and an Ativan. Fuck em if they can't take a joke. Mail winging your way. Love,

  2. I am fortunate not to suffer from anxiety and so I can only say that I hope it passes quickly. we were on a river trip one time with some friends who would always moon the passenger train if they were there at the time it passed by and so it was that trip and so I mooned the passenger train along with my friends.

  3. Rebecca- Thank you, thank you, thank you. No one knows until they know. I can't take an Ativan. I have three and if I took one, I would only have two. Their presence is somehow too important to actually use them. I don't know. But...I will be okay. It always helps to go do something with the babies. They are proof positive that there is goodness. They give me smiles I don't deserve and yet- there they are, freely given, so gratefully accepted. Thank you. Again. And right now, John Lennon is singing "Imagine" on the radio next door and there's another little blessing. I feel my shoulders relax, my breath come easier.

  4. I often think that when I'm in the middle of it. Actually, I'm always in the middle of it, but I mean when I'm in a particularly bad bit like last week. (You know that I know what it is.)
    I hope you manage to climb out of the pit of it. Or that the pit will go away and fuck itself. That horrible goddamn pit.

  5. It's the day of double comments.
    What I meant to add was: I also have pills in my bag which I never use. I just need to have them with me in case. They've probably disintegrated, but I have them if I ever need them.

  6. Someone I love suffers with anxiety, worse lately. Indirectly, I understand. And I'm sure it's a hundred times worse than my understanding of it. At least. My wish is for all of the people who suffer, that they have the strength to keep going and have good days as well.

  7. It must be the stars or something; I too am fending it off as best I can. I just made it slightly worse by looking for a book and not finding it in my ridiculous vertical stacks – I wanted to recommend a wonderful Galway Kinnell poem. With a train. So beautiful to read aloud, but I can't remember the name of it. Where IS that post-it studded book.... Maybe someone knows the poem I mean.

  8. You know, I cannot even imagine what life must be like for people who don't suffer with anxiety. How bright the day must seem, how unencumbered and free. I can even fathom it, so long have I lived with this shadow, anxiety, and every moment I am engaged in the hidden struggle to live my life in spite of it. I feel you, friend. Lose yourself in those babies. Feel loved and safe. You are loved and safe. I promise.

  9. I'm glad you have a writing place. That always seemed to help me when I was anxious. And the trains. I love trains. There's something so romantic about them - although I think there's something romantic about moving and being still at the same time. I think if I were on that train and I saw your life it would inspire me. Maybe there will be a writer on that train, an artist. They will see you. They will write you down. We are all connected somehow. xoxo

  10. You know we are waving back every day. xxx

  11. Anxiety is a form of torture, it's debilitating. I hope it bloody well pisses off and leaves you in peace. An old steam train occasionally hoes through a town that I spend a lot of time in. I often wait for it to go pass and I enjoy so many people waving to me. It's rather sweet and old fashioned and enjoyable. Xxx

  12. I woke up tense and unstable too. I'd kill for an Ativan. Well, maybe not kill. It would be nice to feel one wash over my crazy self though. Even though they make me cry. Anyway.
    I hope someone waves back and I hope it makes the boys squeal.

  13. Is smelling smoke an anxiety thing? Sometimes I think I smell smoke and imagine everyone I love dying in a fire, and I've got to make funeral arrangements for all those people. It's like an odd thought hits me and I'm off to the races with angst. I hope you can chase that bitch (anxiety) away and tomorrow's a better day.

  14. i set up my gmail so i can get my aol-hell mail fowarded there. i'm like a tech neyophyte and was able to figure it out from the instructions from the interwebz. now i can check my work gmail and my everything else gmail from my phone.

    hope you all get the train!


  15. It's very hard for me to understand those feelings; I won't lie. But I certainly hope they disperse.

    Classic rock doesn't sound SO bad. I love the fact that people still listen to classic rock, even though 30 years ago they were listening to it and it was classic THEN.


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