A Funny Kind’a Feeling

Today, I wander around the space that is my apartment.  I do not know what to think, what to do with myself.  I have Jann Arden on a loop, adding harmony to her words.  Seems to be as deep as I am going to go today.  Maybe some Sarah McLachlan next. But, Sarah demands Riesling and cigarettes, and a meal of pasta.  I don’t have that anymore.  Sometimes I miss it, the late nights, swaying softly to the music, stirring the tomato butter sauce every now and then, tipping the wine glass to my lips, a nice long pull on one of my Matinees.

As for Arden, well one of her hits, Insensitive, played a lot on the radio during my first hospitalization.  I cannot listen to this song without feeling like I have to draw into myself, protect myself.  But today, I open up, belt out Arden’s words, telling that asshole off in such a creative way, I thought you might have some advice to give on how to be insensitive.

And yet, just now I have grabbed some time to write, and the words are coming out with ease. A part of my brain that is creating quickly and easily, while another part is flirting with shut down.  What is this, a mild mixed mania?  Ha! Why the rush to name it, to label it?  It is not a clinical mood state; I refuse to pathologize it.  It is simply me reaching back in time, following the music all the way to my first stint in the bin. And now the water is on for tea, and I am settling down at my computer for what I hope will be a good while.