The Thing About Time
*I wrote this about a week ago. I couldn't even find the energy to post it here. A few clicks was just too much for me. The lethargy and hopelessness I was surrounded in was too much to complete the most simple tasks. Well, here I am again. Back from the dead. 

When something unpleasant is looming in the future, something dreadful that is going to happen; the god damn clock ticks louder and louder. With each second, minute, and day that passes it resounds and surrounds, expounding. To be in the moment, and to be happy, becomes increasingly more difficult with the knowledge that this dreaded event is looming in the near future. That Thing. That mocking, menacing, tick, tick, ticking, in my ears and in my mind. 

Time, seems quite unkind, those times. The way it infiltrates, subjugating my existence. 

Even when we are excited about a future event. Something good to look forward to, our mind is on the clock, and it’s ticking. Why must our lives be dictated by clocks and calendars. 

But the worst is when you know what is coming. You don’t want the day to come, but you know it will. There is no escape. It dampens every second beforehand, even though the darkness hasn’t yet arrived.

Tomorrow it will arrive. I will be lethargic and depressed for at least four days. After that I will be happy again. I probably won’t write until I’m feeling better again. I’ll want to stay in bed. I’ll want to listen to my Phillip Pullman audiobooks because they are a comfort to me. I’ll have restless sleeps and wake up a lot. I’ll have nightmares. Then the day will come when I will once again be happy. Once again, be productive. Once again, be inspired. 

The payoff is worth it though. It’s a week or less of feeling miserable and beyond human, in exchange for all the happy days. And even the days of dread that come a few days beforehand I will tolerate. Knowing I will have some days of happiness. I’d rather have a certain amount of happiness than no happiness. I’d rather endure the suffering and be allowed those days of beautiful relief.

Lethargy is much worse than sadness. With sadness, I can cry. I can feel what I need to feel, then hopefully I’ll feel better. With Lethargy, there is nothing to be done to make me feel better. All I can do is try and get through the days. 

The great thing though, about time, is that there is a knowledge that the unpleasant times will pass. There will be an ending. I’m talking specifically about my situation. I’m not referring to grief and loss, trauma, poverty, or oppression. I’m referring to my particular mood shifts. I know with certainty that happier days are coming. That’s the best part about time. It passes. Time is reliable. Yes, we age and creep ever so closer towards our death. But in the meantime, time is like a reliable friend. Unpleasant events have an ending. There are always better days to look forward to.

Christmas without mama
Christmas isn’t the same now that mama’s gone. She gave such thoughtful gifts, many she made herself on her sewing machine. She made opening gifts so fun. There were always little odds and ends in her packages. Little surprises. Sometimes she’d re-gift us stuff she didn’t want. Stuff we didn’t want either, lol! That was what was so fun about her gifts. You never knew what weird things would be in there. One Christmas my parents were over and we decided to watch a Christmas movie. The movie that was chosen was “Bad Santa,” a movie we love and find hilarious. My dad enjoyed it more than my mom. I don’t know what we were thinking, lol! It is a happy memory though, it is funny and awkward. Just exactly perfect.

Why Don’t I Cry?
Idk why I don’t cry much anymore. It’s like I’ve used up all my tears. All those years that I cried endlessly. I cried so damn much. I was an emotional wreck. Mama said I was self-indulgent with my emotions and she was right. I couldn’t help it though. I was in a constant state of deregulation. I was on constant alert. Especially when it came to my children and making sure they were okay in an educational environment not designed for the neurodivergent. I do so wish I could cry, even just a small portion of my previous ability. 

To cry so easily was hell, but to not be able to cry, is also hell. Isn’t there a normal, healthy amount of tears for me? I cried once for Mama at her funeral. Maybe little bits here and there as well. It’s not that I don’t feel her stark absence. know I need to cry for her. It’s the same way I couldn’t cry for my pets. Not since Trixy. But I think when Sunny dies, I will cry. I love her more than any animal I’ve ever had. And I have loved so many animals.
 
Is it strange that the suffering of animals feels so much worse in my imagination than the suffering of humans? That’s weird, right? I think animals suffering is even more upsetting than thinking about a child suffering. However, any vulnerable creature being oppressed creates great internal distress.