Saturday, May 10, 2014

I need a chiropractic Wrestler to fall on my sacroiliac joint in just the right way. Tie me in a knot and somehow pull it to where it's supposed to be. Or in those words from Mia Farrow in whatever Woody Allen film it was, 'maybe I should get a Swede to walk on it.'

I loved that so much.

Now I just think about him abusing his daughter while Farrow didn't know. The self indulgence of these criminal life-ruiners. 'What was he thinking?' someone asked me, about his serial abuser. Good question. I suppose a version of the same thing I think when I stay in bed all day and don't go get food for my hungry children. Some form of 'poor me, I'm so weak', maybe? I read a post once by a father, about how anyone who is seriously considering abusing a child should just kill themselves first. I don't think that applies to the kind of lazy selfishness I'm indulging in here - he was talking about a little girl who'd been tortured and murdered. I'm going to go in a minute, and buy dvds and ice-cream and oranges. I really am. But I think that guy is right. Why ruin another life when yours is nothing but destructiveness already. Take yourself out.

The truth is, I see the shades of grey all too well, I am not above (beneath?) empathy for child abusers. Yet, I don't think it matters, in the black and white view, in truth. Sometimes, what's too broken to fix is better off gone before it breaks others and adds to the misery of the world. This is a view I've come to in my older years. I voted against a death penalty once - I probably still would, because I don't think we're evolved enough to trust to employ it fairly. Our world is full of power-hungry morons. Monkeys with weapons, as Tom Waits said. Monkeys with weapons. But I think euthenasia might be a valid answer to the problems we don't know how to fix. Too many people in the world as it is. We may all be made equal, but it doesn't stay that way for long. I can be as fatalistic as the rest of them, despite my bleeding heart. .

How did I get here? Oh yes, Mia Farrow. I've been a little low on pills the last week, and I forgot to go pick up my new prescription, and then I was talking to Olivia's teacher on Thursday when I was meant to be at my CBT group session. I just didn't have the energy to break up the conversation and go to it - I tried but it just didn't work and I gave up. Now I'm teary about everything. It's so ... boring. I keep reminding myself it's because I'm low on SSRI in my system, which is depressing in itself. I function so poorly. Stupid body. Stupid magnesium deficiency, and whatever else it is.

I'm trying to watch the physical response to the anxiety from the outside in, help me remember it's just a physical/psychological response. It's not really real. I surf the adrenaline waves and try to just watch, detached. It's harder with the sadness though, even though it's the same. Easier to give in to.

I just had one of those African 'Microsoft Technological' check up scammers. I talked over them in a polite, sing-song voice, and put the phone down. I feel sorry for them, too, though Axl snorts at that. Their lives must be so shit, though. There but for the grace of god...

Olivia's rotten tooth fell out last night, I'm grateful to say. She screamed the house down, at the hated sensation of the gap. Not for too long, though. Could've been worse.  Oranges, and ice-cream. Not tooth friends, but ... it'll cheer her up, for now.

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