error in calculation; estimate of three weeks may have been generous
Monday 6 October 2008 | 11 cookies in the jar
11 cookies in the jar
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what bizarre synchronicity. My nephew just introduced me to “I can Has Cheezburger” while he was visiting and the two of us spent hours scrolling through it and laughing our asses off.
I sort and weigh all sorts of responses, hating that you’re sad, but knowing I can’t argue with sad, being grateful that sad is not equalling withdrawal, and feeling like there’s this learning curve on supportive presence but the will is completely there. And a little reminder that sad is generally not permanent, or at least it never has been before, so let’s just trust, this one more time, it won’t be this time, too?
Thank goodness for Oleoptene, who managed to formulate what my brain had been trying to put together all day. What she said.
What she said! And what you told me, when I had a terrible terrible sad:
“Fierce hug and desire to park you in a chair with the oscillating fan on you and make you talk for two hours without stopping while I pour you more San Pellegrino/lemonade and listen harder, frowning and nodding…sometimes you can’t get out of bed and you can’t stop crying. This is going to sound completely bonkers but I wish I had known it sooner: That’s totally okay. Stay in bed and cry, because that’s what you’re doing right now. The bitch of it is, that’s literally the same place the poems come from. People who don’t have the ability to not-get-out-of-bed and not-stop-crying, can’t write poems at all. Swear to God. First step to pulling-out-of…is probably Being In. Call in sick and don’t half-be in bed, but ALL be there. Cry, pound pillows, scream into the mattress, throw up, sit on the shower floor sobbing while the water plasters your hair to your scalp unattractively.”
Verbatim, sweet pea. Let me know if you need ANYTHING.
Yes to all that’s written here, especially your own words of wisdom to another. I know that one’s own wisdom be obscured by weevils and timber wolves, but it doesn’t change that it is there. I love you. I am now going to take Benadryl & faceplant onto my paws, but always always call &/or text if needed. Leaving the ringer on for you.
Y’all is rockin’ my sad.
Also, this made me laugh out loud, in spite of having to wade through poorly written critical analyses of Eliot and Stein:
“Garden State—The Alternative Ending“
i feel so stupid and insensitive. I didn’t realize that you are truly sad! oh to take back my silly comment. I’m glad that you have so many people who are in tune with you and able to, as you say, rock your sad. If I add a sympathetic emoticon will it make it all okay?
I am quite torn here. There’s the obvious *real* content here to address, yet that fucking cat and its caption is hilarious and adorable and makes me say, “awwww, poow widdew KIDDY” and laugh at the same time.
At the same time, I’m so sorry you has a sad. I know something of sad-hases and depression, and I feel so much for you and your “error” in calculations. I wish I could park you on my couch and let my dogs hug and kiss on you and listen a lot (me doing the listening there—forgive the poorly constructed sentences) and remind you of what you know: that it’s really gonna be OK, and it sucks to do it yet another fucking time, but at least other people do understand and care. Really and truly. Strangers and all. Hugs and cheers and good, warm, kind, and glowy thoughts and wishes to you.
@jenny: No no, not to feel bad, dear! I was afraid you might, but please don’t—and yes sympathetic emoticons are more than okay, especially in this freaky blogworld where I apparently advertise my mood disorder flare-ups in a desperate bid for comments.
I has a weird.
Besides, the faceplanted kitteh IS funny, which is kinda the point, my attempting to summon some wryness about this current completely predictable unmedicated meltdown. Which in fact more closely resembles “I has a lacerating self-hatred coupled with a bizarre inability to complete or even start routine daily tasks.”
(In a way I don’t care how big a sad I has, you know? It’s almost beside the point—I just want to has a job, write papers, keep my friends, and hey, showering more than once a week would be nice too, but I won’t push it….)
@karen: It totally does suck. They totally do care. Kiss on your dogs for me!
Thank you. I think “I has a weird” is going to rapidly become my new favorite sentence.
Here’s to getting to other the side of the sun, again, and hoping you don’t get too singed en route. Take care, yes?
(In a way I don’t care how big a sad I has, you know? It’s almost beside the point—I just want to has a job, write papers, keep my friends, and hey, showering more than once a week would be nice too, but I won’t push it….)
Well Said! (and I am sorry I didn’t get your sad right away either)