LATE WINTER FUNK
For several weeks now I've been surveying various areas of my life that I think need to be rezoned or maybe have some demolition work or even a complete overhaul. During this process, I've had a dark cloud hovering over me. While it hasn't actually rained on my parade, it remains cold and gloomy much like the winter weather that has been sweeping most of our nation.
I rarely dream, but two nights ago each time I fell asleep, I had vivid nightmares. A menacing, lurking presence wanted to engulf me. No matter where I went, it remained with me coming closer...closer...closer and just before it would touch me, my eyes would open to a dark room. A sense of me being acutely alone surrounded me until I realized my two cats and my puppy were snuggled up on my bed sleeping soundly next to me.
Meanwhile on Facebook (yes, I'm one of those Facebook freaks), I not only have a page for Mildred, but I have my own personal page and one for my old neighborhood where I grew up. We had our first reunion last summer while I was in Maine with 59 people attending the gala affair. Our discussions on Facebook tend to be like a trip down memory lane for most. Light, humorous anecdotes and memories of various people and places frequent the page when someone isn't bitching about the horrible winter Maine and most of the upper tier states are having.
It's always nice to have a feeling of belonging and a place to go where warm feelings abound. It wasn't until the other day those warm feelings abruptly changed. Someone quite innocently mentioned a name that threw me into a whirlwind. Memories and feelings I thought had long ago been resolved came flooding back in an instant. Yes, I remembered Jimmy Stark, but no one seemed to remember how he was connected to me. As people discussed him by remembering how his foot was brutally ripped off in a freak accident at the carwash next to the elementary school we all attended, no one remembered the affair my father and Jimmy's mother had or if they did, that wasn't a topic anyone was about to start. There was no "Hey everyone, let's talk about Mildred's shitty home life!" There was no connection made between Jimmy and me except by me in me...alone!
This concludes and another episode of Mildred's late winter funk or is it the prespring blues?
Gratitude statement: I'm thankful that the misery I feel sometimes isn't like a fart in church that makes everyone want to pray for me at a distance.
All gibberish within ©2004-2011 Mildred Ratched Memoirs.