Euphemisms

Have you ever noticed that the things that we're not totally comfortable with in life have the most cute little nicknames?? Death, for example - the big sleep, the dirt nap, pushing up daisies, buying the farm, pushing up daisies, kicking the bucket, passing away. Barfing is the Technicolor yawn, ralphing, praying to the porcelain gods and my personal favorite, calling Ralph on the big white phone.

Then there's all the fun names for what happens when your brain and your emotional circuits just have a little more than they can handle. Your cheese slips off your cracker, you drop your basket, you hit the wall, you lose your marbles, you go 'round the bend, etc etc, ad nauseum.

I believe my cheese may be in the process of slipping. I don't know that I'm completely gone - I'm still functional...I think. Maybe I have highly dramatic ideas of what a nervous breakdown looks like. I always picture graceful slides down walls while crying and laughing at the same time, mascara artfully dripping down cheeks, hidden wine bottles, piles of pills, the back of the head bloody from rocking rocking rocking into the wall.

I don't picture this feeling of weight, of malice and intent and anxiety sitting on my chest, keeping me from taking me a full breath all the time. I don't picture being one syllable away from tears at all times. I don't picture the desire to smash bash break boom bang fragile glass just to hear it break, just to know that I've hurt and destroyed something, just to know that I've gotten this feeling OUT of MY body somehow.

What do I do with this emotion? What do I do when I start to think and I start to feel the anger build up and I can taste it and feel it in the back of my throat? Where do I put it?? Do I scream? Do I punch? Do I yell, push, kick, punch jab poke boom bash kapow crunch whack??? What do I do with it?? Where do I put it?? Right now it's sitting in a hole in my rib cage, somewhere between my solar plexus and my trachea and I tell you it makes it hard to swallow, hard to breath.

The breathing is important - it's so important right now. It's hard to breathe when you're running from a giant cloud of fear. Flap flap flap like a bird, then it goes silent and I think everything's OK, and for just a little while I can relax but then I see it, sitting next to me, waiting to pounce and I start running again. It flies behind me, chanting "vehicle inspection, no child support, dumbass should have gotten a lawyer stupid bitch, why didn't you get a lawyer, is the rent due? there aren't any groceries in the house, god you're a shitty mother you stupid whore, he was right, without him you're just gonna fall flat on your fucking face you stupid, irresponsible idiot. slut whore dumbass spineless bitch. do you even know when the electric bill is due? no. you're going to be everything you hate- borrowing money from your parents, fucking up your credit, floating checks, living hand-to-mouth, no retirement fund, bag lady, kiddo will hate you in 20 years, no clean laundry - she'll remember this you know, she'll remember and she'll hate hate hate hate hate hate you hate you hate you you have fucked up fucked fucked fucked fucked up up up up"

I have to grab the crazy - I have to wrestle this fucker to the ground, but first I have to give it a shape and a face and parts. What should it look like? Should it be a dragon? Or is that just the cheesiest thing ever? Should it be a bat? Or a man? How about a big man? That way I can fulfill those Wonder woman fantasies and kick the ass of some 6'3" man. But first I have to flesh it out so I can find a spot to grab it and drag it to the ground and then I can sit on it and then I can dismantle it.

Because right now all I'm doing is running from it. I'm running and running and I'm running out of breath and places to go. I feel like I have two options - I can sit down and let this thing eat me, or I can grab it and take it apart. I just need help.

Help. I've hit the wall.