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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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4:08 p.m. - 2003-10-30
A new low. Is it possible to lie to yourself so well that you are unaware that you are lying? So clueless over the depths of your self-deception that when the truth comes it hits with hammer force? A brutal thwap that is too stunning to even hurt for a second. THEN the pain comes and drives you to your knees? I’d have thought so. Until today. I would have said it was quite possible to fool your upper mind, but deep down we always know the truth. Like the chubby guy who sucks in his gut when he looks in the mirror and goes off whistling because he’s as slim as ever. His upper mind believes this, a small vanity to make the reality of his big belly easier to bear. Beneath he knows the truth though, if not why then would he suck in his gut in the first place? If he didn’t really know he was a fat guy he simply wouldn’t see his belly at all. So. Today when my own epiphany came it rocked me to my core. You see, I had honestly believed that I was okay. Shaky, head achy, some fumbly, but not TERRIBLE. Chugging along, thanks. Coping, too. Wrong. I am not okay. And I am not coping. Oh, I have been lying to myself. So well and so cleverly that I had myself completely fooled. Until today. What I am is sick. Sicker than I’ve ever been maybe. I can walk, but in my clever, clever way I had been making sure I never walked more than a few steps. If I never walked more than 4 or 5 feet then I never had to face the fact that 4 or 5 feet is all I CAN walk. As far as I can go before the exhaustion overwhelms me and the world goes swoony and dim. Before I fall. If I spend all day in my chair writing angry little diatribes about politics and family I have cleverly sidestepped the fact that I am scared and angry because sitting in my chair is all I CAN do. Some fancy mental footwork to misdirect my mind away from the truth that fancy footwork of any other sort is beyond me. Even simple footwork is out of my reach now. Oh yes, yesterday I was going to dance my troubles away. Far from dancing, I shuffled to the stereo, crumpled down to the floor and SAT through a couple CDs worth of speed metal before CRAWLING to the hallway to answer the phone. “Oh, HI Bobbi! Sorry, can’t talk long. I was just about to JUMP into the shower! Catch you soon, sweetie. Places to go and all that. Buh-byeeee!” Yeah, I hustled my friend off the phone, not so I could JUMP into the shower. But so I could crawl there and shower in my clothes. I was covered in vomit. And still I would not see. I was okay. I was coping. What’s a little puke to an old stained t-shirt? Gosh, it’s not like I’d never thrown up before! Puke happens, right? Then came today. Kept Wolf home because he sounded froggy and his nose was running. A day of rest so’s to be A #1 healthy for tomorrow’s goblin fest. Had an appointment at the salon and Mike was going to drive me. He was taking a day off too. He and Wolf would snag some pumpkins while I got beautiful. Took me all morning to do two things, answer an e-mail and get ready to go out. ALL morning. It took me over 4.5 hours to write a note, fumble my clothes on and make-up my face. But I was FINE, right? Mike dropped me at the salon. I shuffled in. My clever deceitful make-up didn’t fool Zee for an instant. She raced over, grabbed my arm and helped me to the styling chair. Then she hissed, “Good God, LA! Why aren’t you in bed? LOOK at yourself for Christ’s sake! You’re GREY.” My temper flared. I wanted to punch her lights out. What was she going on about? I’m FINE. I’m better than fine, I’m GREAT. But I looked into that big salon mirror and saw the Truth staring right back at me. I WAS grey. I look like crap. I feel like crap. I am a Blue Plate Special of Steaming Crap with a side order of maggots! There wasn’t any more lying I could do. I am NOT okay. And I am REALLY REALLY REALLY ANGRY ABOUT IT. ~LA Today’s Pick: “Lying Eyes” by The Eagles
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