• Magical,  My Brain On Crack

    Manual

    They should offer people a manual. I would read it. I would keep it under my pillow and bring its well-thumbed, hi-lighted pages out from under when I needed it. Like, when the person you love is hurting and shuts you out of that hurt because it’s the same old song, really — what should you do? And, when he holds your hand and suddenly you are 13 again and you don’t know what it means — what should you do? Or, when you are sad and afraid and feeling alone and are faced with demons you welcomed 40 years ago — what should you do? If I had a…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Panic

    The world has sped up. I feel it spinning around me, raindrops stinging my face like tiny needles of glass, each one piercing my heart. The walls around me crumble into dust. I search for somewhere to hold on to keep from falling, but my fingers grasp empty air. I try to remember to breathe, but my chest weighs too much. Nothing is the same. Everything hurts. In my mind I see the upside-down car pushed to the side of the freeway today. I see the tremendous splash it made, a fountain of millions of stinging needles. I wonder what it was like. I wonder what to do now.

  • My Brain On Crack

    Lonely

    It dawned on me just now, as I contemplated logging in to Facebook to see what’s new in my stream with all the people near and far, real and virtual who have come to populate much of my online life, that I was doing so in order to keep from feeling. Specifically, to keep from feeling lonely. The thought — I am lonely — blindsided me. I am lonely? Really? In this house with my soulmate, the man who now calls me his beloved, his twin flame? How can I be lonely? I am, and I am afraid. My bed calls to me, yards of white fluffiness, pillowy billowy down-filled…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Blind

    I am watching my life pass before me from behind an opaque screen, my eyes straining in vain to see something they cannot. Once in a great while, once a year or so, I sleep the sleep of the dead. A whole day when I can do nothing but sleep. Oh, I try to make it through wakefulness when this happens, but after an hour or two awake — even after coffee — all I can do is collapse again, gratefully, on my bed. Comatose. And I begin dreaming. No, not dreaming, exactly. More like falling into a world that I cannot escape. In this state I find myself dreaming…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Feeling

    After a lifetime of feeling but not knowing (or wanting to know) what I was feeling, I am learning to do a check-in. This is what I am feeling right now: Sad. I feel the loss of something I really really wanted. Angry. I had expectations. Made choices based on them. Was I imagining things? Fooling myself? Did I believe in something that wasn’t there? Afraid. Now what? I don’t know anymore. I thought I did. Today I want to try to find my foundation again, but I don’t yet know where to look.

  • My Brain On Crack

    Missing

    I am a ghost. I am formless, void, hollow. I breathe and the breath wafts through me. I sing and hear only the wheezing of a empty dry bellows. I trace footsteps out of my bedroom, following the shapes on the golden brown wood that lead through the hall, past the tiny-white-tiled bathroom, down the steps and out the door into constant motion, cars going by at all hours, energy moving, people living and dreaming within a hair’s-breadth of me, and all I feel is slow, dull, invisible. I move, think, work, and speak in slow motion, half-time, endless loops circling around and around, tightening around me, constricting. I do…

  • Love,  My Brain On Crack

    Polynomial

    You remember those, right? Am I giving any of my geekiness away when I say that solving quadratic equations was sort of a highlight for me, mathwise? I found a certain exquisite perfection in creating balance. Each side of the equation balances the other. Yummy. To refresh, in case Algebra II was (cough) a few years ago for you: a polynomial is an expression of finite length constructed of variables and constants. [What, you don’t trust my truthiness in math? Go on, Google it.] It has not escaped me that I am involved in the creation of a polynomial. I already told you that 1 + 1 = 3, remember?…

  • My Brain On Crack,  Write Like You Mean It

    Spring

    Everywhere I look I see new growth. Buds ripening. Cherry blossoms bursting into soft pinkness. Vivid colors superimposed over the blue-grays of sky and water. New green shoots pushing up from seemingly lifeless brown twigs. Surely there is a metaphor here. I am cold. I miss the warmth. I long to feel it permeate my limbs, my skin, my heart. I’ve used a cliff metaphor perhaps too frequently in the past for it to fully fit now, but I do feel that I have at least dipped a toe into the waters of change. Change happens slowly sometimes, stealthily, without us noticing, like a cat climbing into your lap: one…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Connecting

    The last several days have been sort of epic. Not necessarily good-epic. More like intense-epic. The root of change epic. Changing direction, switching lanes epic. Only … it’s not yet clear where things might go. I am drawn to nestling myself in a tree-lined hilly neighborhood of four million overlooking blue-gray waters (and on magical days, the snow-tipped Cascade range beyond), where I can push my heart outward in concentric rings to connect with other hearts and draw inward again. I am drawn to sparking my cells with the essence of carrots, celery, and apple, connecting with the Earth by drinking her lifeblood. I am drawn to jumping feet first…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Suck

    I’ve been struggling with this concept for days now. Years, actually, but I truly thought I had been-there-done-that enough already to move through/past/beyond it, but no. I suck. And yet I cannot yet embrace it. Embrace the suckage. I smile slightly, inwardly, as I write that. A wry smile. Rueful. It’s irony, after all, and I dig the ironic bizarreness that life is. Except when it’s about me, of course. Me? I have to be Perfect. No suckage for me. I could say “Thanks, Dad” for that one. A big part of my imprinting is in this concept. Let me see if I can explain it to you; it’s a…