This morning when I heard the old depressed tape loop playing, “I want to kill myself”, I stood apart from the voice, as if I was a silent witness to the insane words. I give the thought no credibility or seriousness because it is just a thought that passes through my brain, but that I have no actual intention of carrying out.
I hear the silent sentence as it slips through my head and I wonder—why are you bugging me again? Why does this thought wash up into my mind at all? I don’t want to kill myself, but my mind must use these words as some form of self-nagging. A reminder that I feel depressed. Like I need a reminder?
I saw Lloyd this afternoon and talked about my inexplicable sadness that just shows up out of nowhere. As he pointed out, things are going well for me, but there were a few triggers in the last few days.
I feel so helpless when I see my mother not feeling well. She only weighs 86 pounds right now, thanks to the effects of chemotherapy. She is twig like and fragile looking and I want to nourish her. Plump her up. Feed her chocolate shakes and homemade brownies. Take her back to the days of my childhood and relive them without me going through my bitchy phase.
And Miss Genevieve not feeling well is cranky and demanding, which is understandable, but exhausting. She throws food on my back when I lean over to pick up cold mushed green beans. It is funny, but I refuse to laugh. I give her my stern Mommy look, but that just makes her laugh harder.
Genny is plump plump plump. She can eat all she wants or skip a meal or two and there is nothing to worry about. I have filled out thanks to the Starbucks Mint Mocha Chip Frappucino. But Mom needs to eat. She needs to add on some of the weight that her friends who had the stomach stapling surgery have lost. Why can’t weight be transferable? We can donate a kidney but not a pound or two?
At least my mental tape is quiet now. The loop is broken for now.