Hi kids. It's me: The MIA Nutjob.
Since last we met, my life has been demolished like a really ugly skyscraper on the Vegas strip. It was exciting to watch this giant, solid structure implode and collapse, and my mind whirled with the possibilities for that vacant lot and what I might make of it.
And then I started cleaning up the debris. FUCK. The debris. It is everyfuckingwhere. And it's heavy. And it's seemingly endless, because I'll hoist a big fucking cement chunk up on my tiny little shoulders and crawl over to the dumpster with it, spend an eternity trying to raise it up high enough to tumble into the roll-off container, and then turn around to crawl back for another chunk, all the while hoping my legs won't collapse and leave me in a puddle of urine. When I get back to the clean up site, there is no visible difference in the amount of debris. The piles of broken walls and the throat-closing dust haven't shifted. Haven't shrunken. I feel like I'm shoveling and endless pile of steaming horse shit.
Granted, it was my idea to demolish that building on the strip. It is my dreams that made the mess. I chose to end my second marriage. I chose to quit my job. I chose to work in an environment that is such that I fell AGAIN and cracked my skull AGAIN and am now on two weeks bed rest. AGAIN. It was me who decided to adopt a third dog, and also me who broke down into a sobbing, screaming puddle when I realized I don't have the strength in my legs to make that situation work.
All of this was my idea.
So I guess it's time to buck the fuck up and just make it work. Keep shovelling the shit, even when I'm so exhausted that it hurts to open my eyes (thank you concussion). I will not lose my house. I will live without cable and internet. I will not eat out. I will sell every damn thing I own that is of any value. I will not sink. I will not sink. I WILL NOT SINK.
I keep trying to imagine myself as a Phoenix bird - the beast who dies in a fiery mess of debris, but then returns, stronger and more beautiful than before.