Sunday, August 16, 2009
It's Fine
You know what? It's one thing to joke about being batshit crazy and it's another to wake up with the heart-jumping-out-of-throat, oh-my-god-everything-is-wrong feeling. That weight of the universe on my chest, my stomach twisting, seemingly trying to get away from itself.
This is not a joke.
It's not nearly as bad as it was last year at this time but it's uncomfortable. I'm finding it harder and harder to go outside of my yard, to try and get anything done. Everything seems insurmountable and I look at people who do and accomplish and plan and follow through with awe and wonder and guilt, too, because I can't even make myself go to town and try to find tomato plants although I can work like a demon in the garden I have, right here in my yard. Where it is safe.
I think it may have something to do with sense-memory. This is how it felt last year- the temperature, the humidity, the bearing down of the barometer as tropical storms form and dance their way towards us. Waking up and feeling that feeling. That something-is-happening feeling. And I know it's just a feeling. Feelings can't kill me. Feelings don't mean anything except that my chemicals are unbalanced, most likely. Winter's continual darkness can make people crazy. So can summer's relentless heat and humidity.
I swear it can.
The cricket's chorus swells and hastens in time, the metronome of their chant ticks so fast it breaks and then there is silence. The air is so heavy and I dream of houses where I find peace and then a distant relative starts a fire, an old friend brings a peaceful presence and then leaves and I yearn in my sleep for the peace I know is there, right beyond my grasp. I wake up and my husband holds out his arms and I tell him, "I am anxious again."
"What can I do?" He says. His eyes are so warm and I know he cares and I know his plate is already so full with the thousands of things he takes care of every day. I don't want to put this stupid feeling stuff on top of it all. I don't want to.
"It's okay," I say. "It's just a feeling."
And I mean it.
We go out to feed the chickens because he knows that soothes me. We find a giant caterpillar, and he looks monstrous, dangerous. We take his picture and it turns out he is harmless, a Hickory Horned Devil and he will turn into a Royal Walnut moth next year after feeding for almost two months on pecan and walnut and sweet gum trees and then burying himself into the ground to pupate.
Not scary when you know the facts, but frightening when he first appears and you have no knowledge of what this creature might be. He will turn into something beautiful. A metaphor which barely needs mentioning.
The chickens are fine, we fed them by hand, the ones who are not too shy to come to us. Some of them are and I don't know why. They are the way they are. Perhaps their breeds. Red and Suzie will jump up into the air to retrieve a grape we're holding. A funny trick, hard to catch with the camera.
There was a party last night at a good friend's house. I did not want to go. I was afraid there would be people there I didn't want to see. I am socially awkward. I feel fat. I hate wearing a bra. But we went. It was fine. I talked to two women, both named Katie. I loved talking to them. I felt okay. It was okay. Mr. Moon and HoneyLuna were there to cuddle me up if I needed it. The people I was afraid of seeing were not there at all. Thank god.
HoneyLuna is healing. She is doing fine. Lily is having Braxton Hicks, which means her uterus is tuning up for the big event. She is gorgeous and still having a hard time believing she's in the last month of pregnancy. She works eight hours and goes home and unpacks and gets ready for the baby. She calls me and we have long conversations about birth and I tell her that she has to remember to tell us what she wants. No matter what that means. Even if it means, "Mama, get out of the room."
I tell her everything is going to be fine. And it is.
Everything is fine.
Mr. Moon is out finishing up the laying boxes for our chickens. The two flocks are tolerating each other warily. The big birds allow the little ones to eat from the feeder, drink from the waterer.
Penny is fine. Her head is healing up. Little Elmira is fine too. In fact, she may turn out to be a rooster. That's okay, too. Mr. Moon saved her and she is never going to be big but she is fancy and she is fine with those feathery legs of hers.
A tropical storm is indeed headed this way. Claudette, which brings to mind french petticoats and their gentle swishing, not ripping winds, not torrential rains. Mr. Moon and Jason took out two pine trees yesterday which were dead and in danger of falling on Lily and Jason's new house. Mr. Moon is covered in poison ivy today. Jason is not. We are grateful that it's Mr. Moon and not Jason. We're old and know how to deal with itches and rashes and oozing. We're glad that the trees are not threatening the house if the winds pick up, the rain makes the ground soft.
Fine. It's fine.
It's all fine.
Babies are fine, chickens are fine, houses are fine. It's all just a feeling. A heavy feeling caused by weather, caused by insanity's anniversary.
Hank is coming out soon. Jessie is coming home soon. I've talked to Lily who wanted to know how to make oatbran muffins. I love her for calling and asking me things like that. I need to talk to May, make sure that she, too, is fine.
And I feel better now, having written it all out, looked at it with rational steeliness.
I feel fine.
Not great, but fine.
I will go do the laundry. I will go pull up some things in the garden. I will find something good to eat from the freezer and thaw it out. I will cook it later. I will watch my chickens. I will give you this picture which is a picture of some of the silky chickens my neighbor is raising. Yes, I swear, these are chickens.
Little Dr. Seuss birds who do lay eggs. Fluffy pompommed birds whose eyes are hidden by their furry feathers.
How can life be so serious with birds like that right next door?
It's the weather. It's the heat. It's the heaviness of the air and the way it's picking up and swishing the petticoats of the trees. It's the crickets, racing to beat the metronome's tick. It's the green dragon in my yard. It's the brown eyes of my husband, it's the round belly of my daughter, it's the strong knee of my baby, it's the joy I feel when my children drive up. It's Hank's laughter, it's May saying, "Hey Mama!" It's the way women can leak hearts in a kitchen, having just met and recognized something familiar. It's the love of friends. It's the mix of it all.
It's standing with my feet on the ground, feeling and recognizing, fearing and calming, it's August, it's summer, it's life.
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Oh, Ms. Moon, you are doing great just working in the garden in terrible heat. I'm glad you're fine. I wish you were feeling great.
ReplyDeletePerhaps it's the season. I was saying last night how the world was so heavy and so black. And then I breathed and remembered that I've felt like that before, and that life keeps going and will be fine. And then I read what you just wrote.
I think perhaps our souls are related somehow. I find it too freaky how I can feel such a connection to a woman I only know in bits and bytes, and who lives in such an alien place. But I do. And bless you for that.
Hey Mama!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you called. It was really nice to hear your voice.
Did you feed the catepiller to the chickens? They would hog him down, horns and all.
I love you,
May
Mwe- Who knows? I don't. I'm just glad we have this form of communication.
ReplyDeleteMay- Lord, no! I did not feed that caterpillar to my chickens! He would have scared them to death! Plus, I knew he would turn into something beautiful if we let him go. I am cutting flannel!
Rest easy. If you haven't already, go look at NieNie's site (do you know that blog) -- it will yank you right out of the humidity into cool clear air.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth- No. Who is NieNie? Direct me there, please.
ReplyDeleteI have talked about NieNie a lot on my blog, Ms. Moony Moon, and you can find her by clicking the link to her site on my page, lower left hand side
ReplyDeleteI'm going through anxiety too, let's go through it to the other side together
can you email me your address?
ReplyDeletebeezus74@hotmail.com
i want to write you something
MM,
ReplyDeleteDid something traumatic happen in your past around this time of year? I mean, besides last year. It sounds like you may be cycling...?
Anyway, if you need a big ole kid hug, Harley is only happy to oblige, and I am too... as I'm just an overgrown kid anyway!
Glad the clan is fine. Also glad the party wasn't too dramatic!
See you soon. xo pf
ps Those moths are stunning aren't they?? AND BIG!
Maggie May- Found her and yes, I have visited her before. What a beautiful woman and a beautiful blog! I am thinking of you so much, knowing a little of what you are going through, knowing we'll both come through because we are strong and we figure things out.
ReplyDeleteMs. Fleur- Well, it IS the time of year I was born....
I'm fine now. All is well. I promise. But I never turn down hugs. Ever. Love you dear neighbor.
Remember how unnerved and angry and irrational I was last week when it was storming? I think you're right, the weather does things to people. I believe you told me that it's like labor, you have to just submit and let what happens happen.
ReplyDelete(But some medication helps, in my humble opinion and experience!)
I am getting so excited for you to be a grandma. I know you'll be the best one ever!
I always, always get like this late summer...because I hate the heat, and by the time August gets here, it's been hot forever and feels like no end is in site. But it is...we both know it.
ReplyDeletePS - I am feeling much, much better.
Rachel- I do. It's funny how little credit we give to the weather when we consider our mental health and yet, how much our mental health probably depends on it.
ReplyDeleteGod. I hope I am a good grandmother. I do. It's my main goal in life right now.
SJ- EXCELLENT! On the PS.
Wishing more peace for you, Ms. Moon.
ReplyDeletegingermagnolia +1
ReplyDeleteThat chicken catching the food with it's wings all spread out is adorable! I never knew chickens could be so endearing. :)
Ginger- I am doing well. I promise you. Thank-you, sweet girl.
ReplyDeleteNicol- I had no idea that chickens could jump! Lily figured it out! And my new motto is: White Chickens CAN jump. (But I"m sorry- not as well as red ones.)
Those are the cutest puffy chickens! They make me smile!
ReplyDeleteI have done and still do time with depression. Hope this passes soon and that you will feel better than fine - even though that's pretty good sometimes!
Hugs, Joy
What was it you said abotu memory of the senses? I don't remember the exact words, but I know the feeling. It has been six years 4 months and a handful of days since things ended with my ex, and what happened, happened in the sprign; for that reason, as much as I love spring, I go through a time of unnamed fear and dread right around Eli's birthday every year because the smell of the growing things and the damp earth remind me of that time. And the only thing I can do nowadays-because no matter how much I tell myself to just GET OVER IT, well, it just doesn't work that way-is know that it is a hard time of year for me, and to just get through. Hold on tightly just like you are doing to all which is familiar and loved and fell what you feel and then move forward.
ReplyDeleteAnd you know, even with Steve, even with things turning out to be far better than I ever gave him credit for, I may not ever be 100% over all that happened with my ex. Over him, sure-I was over him long before the end happened-but I mihgt always carry teh scars. Which might mean every April until i die, I will have a hard time. But today, well, maybe that's okay.
Joy- Yes, those chickens are silly little loves of fluff. And depression- whoo boy. I've spent many nights in its bed. But this anxiety is a different thing. I'm learning.
ReplyDeleteKori- I know. The body remembers. It's a strange thing, isn't it? We have to just hold on, like you said. It passes.
Hey mama mama: if the good lord's willing and the creek don't rise, I will be out there to see you this evening. I miss you!
ReplyDeleteOh I understand the feelings of anxiety. Not just regular anxiety, but crippling, terrible anxiety. Even though rationally a person can know it is just chemical, just feelings, in the middle of a panic attack or a day like you had, it can be really rough. I am glad you can feel your feet on the ground, and your friends in your heart.
ReplyDeleteAnd there is NO WAY that Lily is in the last month of her pregnancy! That went fast (for me anyway, possibly not for her!)
nice looking bug.
ReplyDeleteI am socially awkward. I feel fat. I hate wearing a bra.
ReplyDeleteME TOO!
I adore you. As Bob Marley said, every little thing's gonna be alright. That's my mantra.