Claiming my Inner Bitch

I napped on the couch this afternoon.

I fell asleep around six when A Prairie Home Companion came on and after I'd heard All Things Considered and Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me! I woke up at almost nine so I'm not at all tired right now.

Today was a good day. It was drizzly, cool and overcast all day so it was perfect napping weather. I bundled up in my white flannel PJ bottoms with the kitty cat heads and red hearts, a long sleeve tee and my very old and faded red Levi's sweatshirt. A pair of comfy socks and the mulberry throw we used at my dad's memorial service. I still have the windows open so I appreciate the coolness of my cheeks while I revel in the toastiness of the rest of me. I love fall.

I don't like the place I've been to recently. I can only creak the box lid open a crack at a time then I have to slam it shut again, recoiling in horror. Something in that box made me retreat to a place where I was sheltered from the terrifying emotions but also devoid of any other real feeling. All pleasure was drained out of me for a while and that was the most horrible thing I have ever experienced. I feel like someone who's been pulled back from the abyss just before the cliff let out from under her feet.

I need to learn how to go all the way into that box. But how do you balance the feelings you enjoy, the feelings of pleasure and security with the other ones gnawing at the box lid as you take your tentative peek? How does one allow herself the positive emotion without being swallowed up whole by the enormity of the sad and sorry ones? I am not so free of regrets as I've led myself to believe. And sorrow...overwhelming sorrow...all-encompassing sorrow. How does that not eat one's heart out from the inside like so many maggots?

Anyway, I still feel good today...good enough to take another cautious peek under the latch even though I don't want to go exploring there yet. And it's such a relief to feel again even, maybe especially, if the day was not a pre-ordered, picture-perfect day, even if the things I'm feeling might not be those typically viewed as pleasurable. Feeling anything at all is pleasurable enough for me right now.

So, I washed my sheets and they are folded crisply, waiting to be returned to the bed. I will have to shower, even though it's 2AM. I have a new neighbor in the basement apartment. Dan is his name. He might as well get broken in right away as to how things stand around here and that I will, on my nights off, sometimes walk my dog and take a shower at 3AM. Shower, shave, climb into cool, crisp, freshly-washed sheets, drift off to sleep, awaken when I will. It doesn't get much better than this, does it? Though maybe it's time to visit my pleasure treasure bag before that shower...

tags: depression / life / senses / sex / sexuality

posted by Cheryl @ 2:07 AM