Peridot

Today I came a little bit closer to a dream. It's been in the back of my mind, lingering, like a toothache you've been purposefully ignoring. I realized that I am so close I can almost touch it.

And I'm freaked out.

I'm packing....looking at shoes I haven't seen in years; the handbag I wore to visit the divorce attorney for our first meeting.

I found my favorite bear yesterday. His name is Fuzzy; I've had him since the time I was diagnosed with diabetes. I was scary looking and tiny, looking like a little concentration camp survivor. Asleep with no dreams; in a coma at UCLA. My Dad brought me flowers, and tucked on one of those clear plastic tridents was Fuzzy. 20 years old now.

Last night I slept with Fuzzy tucked under my arm. I cried in my sleep. It was as if I had some kind of bittersweet homecoming.

Z told me today that there was a reason he hadn't packed any of his own things. He said that his reason was stupid, and he didn't want to tell me. I behaved normally and prodded.

He said that he worried. Z knows that when I left my husband, I packed house, saying that we were putting some old things in a storage building. While my husband slept one night I finished the packing as best I could and I was gone. POOF. He drove around for two days looking for me. It was an awful thing to do, I know this now. And I regret it. But at the time I was stupid and afraid.

I almost cried when Z explained that he was afraid. I told him that I hadn't packed his stuff because I just hadn't started packing those rooms yet. I told him that I've already packed his rocks, his daddy's spurs. I could hear him smile over the phone.

I'm a mess. I admit to it all. I took this stress test the other night in class. Apparently psychologists and social workers administer the test to determine just how many stressful life events someone has been through in the past twelve months. If you score up to 50 points, you are doing okay and aren't likely to suffer physical ailments due to your stress level.
100-150 may grant you tension headaches. 250-300 pretty much says that you are likely to suffer a major illness in the next two years based on your stress level.

I scored 490. I'm not trying to break any records here.

I've felt pretty out of control over the past year or so, but only lately have I felt overwhelmed. Pushed to the max. I wonder if I can take any more.

I cry for no reason. I take long baths, and hide in the scalding water. Most of the time I feel as though I am one big bubble, and I am just about to burst.

I'm tired of grinding my teeth. I'm tired of waking up in the morning, feeling nauseous and stiff, and feeling the dried sticky trails of tears on my face.

A string of peridot is across the back of my neck. I had forgotten how calming it is. I desperately want to take my last pill - a muscle relaxer - throw a Tylenol PM on top, wash it down with my remaining Cuervo, and go to bed.

But I can't. I'm packing. For another physical frame for the life I desperately need to change from within.



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