The Chalant


It will be faster to write this than that.  I am also having a problem because there’s some interesting content in Jessica Jones that lies along the ley lines of my novel, and now I’m trying to weigh it all, but it’s such an amazing show that I mostly just want to finish the mainline before I address that issue.  I am not afraid it’s “ruined” because there’s far too many other random elements to contend with, but it is interesting to see one way that an idea can unfold and hope that your way, which is this entirely loopy, perhaps dead-end street, will at least get you as far as you aim to go.

More work today, more driving, more sense of things changing that you thought were solid.  That’s vague, but I know what I mean.  We spent some portion of the day duct taping parking barriers into peppermint sticks.  I did not leave my body, when I drove – it was easier yet again, but I did a shitty thing and bypassed sitting in the fear at a single intersection.  It is insanity to describe, but my brain, Mildred, habit starts raising my blood pressure because I would like it not to, and wouldn’t it be awful if I lost control?  Blood pressure, coping mechanisms done without trust they will work can unravel until you’re accidentally smacking your head because you’re trying to soothe yourself by tapping your scalp to reassure your brain that it is still housed within your skull and not flying in a silvery balloon ten feet above the car.  Last night, I had one moment of feeling cocky about getting better, and it raged.  For fifteen seconds, it won.  But then the light turned and propriety took over, and out I went, across the two lane highway and into the security of the back roads.

It is easier to feel as though you can win by not having to stop.  So, I spent half a second turning around in a gas station parking lot so I could fly through the light once it turned green.  That is not precisely facing your fear.  But I was glad for the calmness before and after that.  And that regular driving is helping me expose and beat back the panic.  I have to push against the worry.  I thought about the mission statement. I thought about a lot.  I am still thinking about a lot.

I do not have answers.  Whatsoever.  For some of it.  But the old martyr, panicked, shy, disassociative, boring, bored shroud of Mildred is feeling a bit heavy on my shoulders, so I think I’ll throw it off and watch some TV.  Think about Thanksgiving, and family, and pumpkin pie and stillness of being.  Gratitude and awareness of purpose. Getting myself on board with whatever the new paradigm is going to be.  Feeling alive, handling my shit, buying a new sweater, and knowing you are out there somewhere. Right now and it is beyond okay for me to start calling out to you.

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