My mother once told me that sheep were the dumbest animals, because they never had the sense to come out of the rain, and could actually drown if they held their heads up.
I don’t know if that is actually true, but for the past couple of days I’ve been dancing this slow dance of muddled sadness, that both feels sort of painfully good – like stretching out a painful Charlie horse; and at the same time it feels like I’m slowly drowning in a very light rain. Like the aforementioned sheep, I wander in confusion and consider just accepting the drowning.
I am precariously balanced between light and dark emotions. Gratitude. Anger. Overwhelming Sadness. Guilt. Love. Shame.
I worry that I am secretly a masochist for the dark depths of any emotional pain because I’m not doing anything but existing in this feeling, but at the same time know I can flip a switch and turn this off and feel nothing. Just go blank, where the only existence of this pain is this dull throb in the pit of my stomach.
Neither is right, but the latter is closer to what I do, because one must get up in the morning and exist. So I surround myself with people, and put my clown face on. But in some Fellini-esque poetic way, I see this clown mask looking back up at me, while silent tears glide down my cheek. Dramatic in thought, but the reality is I greet you with my same soft shoe dance, loopy painted on grin, that ultimately ends with a squirt of seltzer in your face. Everyone claps and the clown moves on.
Kurt’s ashes were spread recently. I can’t go into any more detail than that, or I will lose it. I can’t talk to anyone outside of my youngest about this, and even that is a bit censored. She’s my champion in this, but one can only take so much. I think the truth is, I’ve lost my ability to be vulnerable with people regarding this. No one gets it, no one will, so shut up about it already.
It fucking sucks.
As usual, this situation makes me angry at the world. Anger is my go-to for sadness once the tears dry up. Actually I don’t even need the tears to dry up, because sometimes those really hot angry tears are cleansing too.
I battle this logical side that tells me everything I am going through is normal and natural. I hate the logical side that tells me I can’t claim being excluded if I left this party decades ago. Have you ever been so damn angry at someone for being right? Imagine that anger pointing inward.
Then as always, at every emotional party Guilt comes dragging in last; looming large like some over-sized Henson Muppet, bumbling around, bumping into everything while constantly apologizing. Sometimes I feel if I had a nickel for every apology I issued, I’d be drowning in coins.
I want to soothe the emotional side of me that carries on like a toddler, screeching at the world. Aiming my misdirected anger at anyone ignorant enough to get in my way. I am at this crossroads and I don’t want to talk about it, but moreso I don’t know how to talk about it. So I write a jumbled mess of descriptive emotional words learned in therapy years ago, when it seemed like Angry, and Scared and Happy were the only ones I knew.
I understand that there might be people out there who can help carry this burden but I’m angry at all of them. I’m angry at the entire fucking world today, but when you see me I will smile. My chest will constrict and I will look upward, the oldest trick in the book on having your eyes re-swallow tears, but I will smile.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I need to figure out a way to take a 15 hour car ride to this beautiful lake in the Rocky Mountains and finish my good byes. I don’t want to do it alone, and I don’t want to do it with anyone. I relish the idea of the drive alone, and I dread and fear it.
Maybe this is why the sheep die in the rain. They aren’t stupid, they are just vastly confused.