What do you mean you’re tired?
How long can I really keep this up for? I am exhausted. Yesterday I nodded off right in the middle of the afternoon for two full hours. My head just paper-weighted itself to the pillow, eyes closed, shut and gone away. Like, The Woman in Cabin 10, she is so tired that everything seems to rock her into a sweet sleep that she never has time for, so she has to keep staying awake. Then your body forces you down, so yes, I fell asleep, instantly. I slept through another yoga class. I slept through the sun down and clarification of proper moon phases that we are going through via Instagram, so Michael confidently (and incorrectly) gave me the run down on lunar happenings. I later ask him why he told me that a new moon and a full moon were the same because this is incorrect. He tilts his head and responds, “You know it’s a new moon because it looks like this [draws a smiley face on his own face with his finger] HI I’M A NEW MOON! SO BRIGHT AND SHINY NEW MOON.” I nod, internally noting what he really knows about these things for future reference. He knows what he knows, and his logic was adorable. I continue on trying to feel confident about my little Kundalini set up, but I am so tired. Cracks and fractures in the recovery layover start to fault. I am dangling the weak spots out in the open. Negative slash. I feel like an idiot. This is unhelpful. How did I go from long extended breaths with a clear perception of myself as something passing through with time, to the blank space holding hell of now? How did I start running circles knee deep into the ground again. I am so tired of wondering if everything is okay. I am so afraid of opening that one door deep within myself because what if I open it and undo all of this? What if I AM NEVER TO BE HAPPY AGAIN! Who knows, but I am grieving the change of my season. It hurts to feel like a learning thing again, and I want to know. I want the cushion of knowledge to keep me safe. My weaknesses exposed for some reason feels unbearable right now.. It hurts like throwing holy water on gargoyles and demons in my mind. Burning and sizzling with the sunlight and exposure of truth. It sizzles from the skin around the door. NO! I forbid myself from opening it. I can’t let that one thing out and risk getting in trouble or messing up everything. It’s in the things we do not take seriously that I am most concerned with losing. I know everything is in its right place, but the busy stressors start rolling when we get moving again because everything is actually not in its right place.
How can it be? I am tired. We do not have a place with a foot out the door. We rolled the luggage down to load on the big trucks today because this how it goes: We roll in and roll out of everywhere like that, and we’re gone. I can trust that we have it all, but there is always an extra amount of edge in touring city to city like this. I share this because it’s a place I know where it can happen. I get paranoid. Sometimes I do not know what is real since Bon Voyage! two years ago almost. I’ve watched enough crime shows to know that anything is possible, you know?
Are we being filmed? Do they have access to our computers? Is that a camera on the ceiling of our bathroom in another new apartment? It’s only a little green light, but this thought does not want to stay in me, ever. It’s either 50/50 or 90/10 with camera taking the lead. Running a bath helps, but this whole idea of something with a motion sensor sort of goes away. I spend a lot of time alone, as preferred, but if I let myself fall into myself again, then that tiny little camera on the ceiling of our bathroom makes itself annoyingly clear. But how do you know this, Jacqui? The Great Gatsby green light, imagined or not, constantly tests my reality. Is this another Inception, spinning coin? Are these possible hidden cameras real? If I don’t want to stop sometimes I don’t because who is going to tell ME how to think? I do not stop, and I keep dripping further from reality. Hello? I can see it all like one place or one giant staged escape room everywhere we go. On a loop as the rain begins to fall someone with a yellow raincoat will walk across the landscape. It happens no matter what everywhere we go. Talk about trippy. Cue rain and yellow raincoat go! They walk across the same as the last time it rained. I wonder if it happens again will I continue to ask if this is reality? Sure. Keep dripping. Keep Melting. Wax and wax away. I dive deeper. Questions all around the door. Anything but the door. Did you ever leave Atlanta at all? Are you really just dead and going through some kind of second life travel situation? What is the control factor here? Once you left Atlanta, everyone and everything went on without you. I was already a faded memory for anyone that I knew back then, so as I grow and change through my sobriety on the road, as wonderful as this whole experience is, I can’t help but feel missing from some place. A place that cannot be ever again. A place that might be behind that door. This is the door. Why does it hurt so much? I would even want an acknowledgment of some kind of hate from them. Please don’t do this. I always knew I was different, but I never wanted to be crazy.
When does it go from creative to crazy? I can’t be sure, but I know I am capable of both. I know the feeling of the truth of a camera beneath a clear plastic box in the center a bathroom fan. The aching green light that could mean everything, but most likely means nothing. Does it mean that I am unlovable? What is it? Tell me! I never wanted to be anything but myself, and I learned to just hold my breath through the hard times. Why is that green light still on? Help. Help me please because I do not know what is real anymore. I am melting too far now, and I want to go back. Letting go is the edge, so sometimes there are leaks in my recovery walls of expectation. What a rebel. Now just shake this excess like : My jeans are tight and my arms feel huge again. I keep checking on the Tt tattoo I have on my arm to make sure it’s the same size. When will this end? Checking on the shape of my arms because I am so confused. I don’t know what is okay. I do not know what size is normal, and I cannot trust that I am capable of seeing things correctly anymore. Everything in my being knows it to be a camera, but it has to be a motion sensor light. Again in the in between, I shake my head and let it go. I pretend to look forward through my arms, through the yellow raincoats on cue, and through the green light as they scratch and test my reality. It hurts to see what I see in sobriety, a state of accuracy that I have fought so hard to find, only to find out that this is also one step away from delusion. It is small, and maybe it will pass, but today it burns. This is the most real thing in the world until it’s absolutely crazy. Who is she? I ask myself from this place of down and overly melted me. I sit and watch myself on this video doing a book review. Who is that, and why is she still trucking on when I am so exhausted? Here’s the truth: I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. What a relief! I exhale a little and remember what a gift it is to know that I am not God.