At least I think I hit my ass on the bottom, finally. I think yesterday was the part of the storm that people cliche as “darkest before the dawn.” I’m still swimming in it. I’m still near the bottom. But when I hit the bottom I can try to push to go up. Unless I’m unconscious.
I think, I hope, I pray, God help me, that I’m finally reoriented and coming up for air. Maybe. I’ve had days where I get mixed up worse than normal mixed days, so I might just be confused and I might head back down because I’m not really good at self-orientation. Wonder how long it will take this time.
I hate the confusion, the self-doubt, the depression, this:
(well, I don’t hate this, it’s the polished up version of whatever the non-polished “this” is. I hate the non-polished “this.” Well, it’s the ALMOST polished up “this,” but it’s the best I’m going to do until I’m free to buy more polish. Polish, that’s another word dissection, not a math one, but I need to do that sometime. Maybe it’ll distract me from this. And that’s another reason I need to fix “this.” Too easily distract-able.)
Yesterday I was at the bottom of the pool, I guess. I sure hope that was the bottom, I don’t really want there to be a sub-level. I may have bumped my head just a little down there, because it felt like I was under the concrete. I still wish there was a hero to rescue me and keep me safely swimming, but I feel it, I feel just a little bit better than I did yesterday. And no, Mrs. M did not jump in to save me. It’s still one of my fondest hopes. Mrs M. is F-I-N-E in a swimsuit. She would disagree, but I’ll be the judge of that beauty contest, thank you very much. If I can get her to let me closely inspect every detail… detail is another word to dissect, but I’d like to closely inspect detail… (insert lecherous leer) Is there a 12 somewhere on this scale from 1 to 10?
When I was young I loved to swim. I could hold my breath for a long time, which may explain this. I scared a lifeguard at a lake one year. He wasn’t jumping in after me, but he was close. I didn’t want a guy coming in after me though. Should have picked a better time to scare a better looking lifeguard. It’s not his fault, I’m sure he was fine, just not for me.
I learned to dive shallow and deep, depending on the depth of the water and where I wanted to go. If you dive deep and the water’s shallow, that’s not going to be much fun. If you dive shallow and the water’s deep, nobody cares. When you swim in the emotional pool, it seems easy to get into the deep water and get disoriented. I tend to find myself fighting for air, not sure which way is up. Like now.
Emotionally I think I’m scaring some of you lifeguards. As much as I don’t want to do it, I hope Mrs M. is willing to come after me. Because even if I need artificial resuscitation, I’ll come back for her every time. And I need it, so if she’ll offer it, I’ll come back. Trouble is, she wants me to fix this. Fuck me. (Please)
I know a lot of people do this cycle thing. So, when you bump your ass on the bottom of the pool, that’s concrete, I hope you can use it to push off and head back to the surface. (I hope I can too!) We can all have a picnic lunch after we finish our swim. I’ll bring the fried chicken and cole slaw, and a nice pinot grigio. Mrs M can bring the biscuits. Over here. I can’t be held responsible for what might happen. She’ll probably ban me for a day, but maybe, just maybe, Mrs M can be held.
You probably think I have a one track mind. Yup. And Mrs M is my favorite station. But no, it’s not strictly true, I’m very distractable and frequently will go off on tangents. (See also https://nombredelapluma.wordpress.com/2016/07/18/mathematics-language-dissection-mld-ii) So one (other) thing I like to do when I’m at the bottom of the pool is listen to funny music, stuff that makes me laugh. Even if you think it’s just stupid, if it makes me laugh it’s a good thing.
And just in case you wondered if my man Humpty was telling the truth, see also:
And, that piano is amazing!