My insides evaporate and I become what I feel.
I am Alone and Full of Love. I am Full of Emptiness and Helplessness and I am the Panic that begins to flood all of this and it’s making me Sick and Lost and I’m Fumbling for Communication. I am ready to shrink and ready to burst and nothing is good.
But it is right.
Because this is what happens when our feelings consume us.
One night I was sobbing on the floor of the living room. And he looked at me with such pity and disgust. I couldn’t stop.
It was probably one of those anxiety attacks that I never have-now that I look back on It.
My breath was all over the place.
It was feeling I was powerless to, except to feel it’s power. Uncontrollably.
I had snot dripping down and my eyes were so bloodshot and he said, and I said, I had to go.
It wasn’t good if Zeek saw me this way.
And so I walked out and down to the park inside the village and I laid on the grass while my heaves subsided and ten minutes later I felt panic.
He had left. He must have left with Zeek. I ran back and saw the car gone and I called him and told him to come back and I wanted to hurt myself if he didn’t. I begged him to come back. I needed Zeek.
He listened in silence.
And said okay.
I have never felt more panic for my son than that night.
The only man besides my father, that’s ever seen me that way.
And now I am in Canada,not Thailand.
There is a point in breaking, because if their isn’t, we wouldn’t reach a breaking point.
My mom texted me before I left for her party on Saturday. ‘Jen. Can you come up here. ‘
I went up to find her in bed in pjs with her makeup and hair all done up. Laying down against the mauve of her pillow and she looked so pretty.
“If you need something to wear I have dresses in the other closet you could wear. I haven’t worn them yet”.
” Ok thanks.
And I start to leave the room.
” oh and
I’m really nervous.”
She’s wringing her hands together.
She continues on:
” Should I have a glass of wine?
Will you come up with me if I have to say a thank you speech?
Can Zeek sit with me to blow out the candles?
Do you have any wine? Will you bring it up?’
There’s frantic and panic in her voice and she looked so beautiful in fear. I felt a glimmer of sorry for her. In what she must be feeling.
And that, she can look so together, and reveal and be so vulnerable. Like she was a little girl all over again.
She let her guard down so I could walk in and see her that way.
I’ve come to know Thai culture pretty well, but today was my first encounter with the pure belief that I might be in the process of getting knocked out.
When she pressed the cold menthol smelling cloth over my face my first instinct was to rip it off and leap up. I may have even moved an inch todo so. But I get into mental games of my own very quick sometimes and so I stayed still and decided that at the slightest feeling of faint or dizzy, I would bolt. I even thought of what positions my legs were in and whether or not I should move them to make for a faster leap. I had whoations of panic. I was feeling light headed, wasn’t I? She had looked at me oddly upon entry into the massage room, hadn’t she? She would have stolen my phone by now, wouldn’t she have? These questions genuinely laced themselves into my brain current. I made the very conscious effort to control my breathing and after each intake, I did a quick assessment.
I didn’t wake up in the back of a covered pick up truck. I didn’t wake bound in ropes or in a pit of snakes. I didn’t even wake
because I didn’t even sleep.
I didn’t know what chloroform smelled like, but I do now because I looked it up thinking that if ever such an event happened again, and it WAS the real thing, I would know.