Tuesday, Early Evening~~
I haven't blogged in so long i feel shy; like i am at my own party but i don't belong. I am quiet when things are wrong: I hold my fear closely to my chest. Things have been wrong...many things...indeed, they still are. However, I am resilient, i am a coping machine., i am a survivor.
Tonight i want to write about a part of my personality i don't like very much...It is my seeming inability to connect with those i love in a daily, civilized manner. Oh, i am great in a catastrophe, I am the true stormy weather friend, because not only will i give you my blood, i will deliver it personally. But, the art of friendship, in a loving, day to day basis...that is something i have a problem with. I might forget your birthday, i might not return your phone call or email. Why? i ask myself why? And, it always seems that "stuff" gets in the way... I run out of time.
Lately, it's because i have been feeling very sick... I don't want to elaborate, because i have the feeling that to say something, to write something, makes it concrete, makes it real, and if i can just deal with it, fight it, block it, it doesn't exist.
I have had anxiety attacks before in my life...I know myself well enough to know that my mind is SO strong, my focus SO intense, that, my body gets mightily pissed off at me ignoring it's subtle warning signs., and then ...BOOM!!! I am down...down with pains that frighten me...bold, red warning signs that tell me.."lady, you better find a way to decrease stress, because if you don't..well, THIS will be your life....
So, let's just say i have noted the warning signs,bells and whistles. I am trying very hard to be calm, to take baths, to meditate, to not worry. It seems to be working.
One of the people i hurt when i am going thru this is my brother. (Sorry, George!)Another is my dear friend Bob(Sorry, Bob!).
My brother George..ah, such a sweetiepie. I am 4 years older then him, and i can remember my first solid memory of him like it was yesterday... I was 6 years old, he was 2...it was my birthday, and he was in his black, hulking, baby stroller.(Imprisoned, is a better word..as the party flowed around him). July, and hot, and we lived in maryland. One of the kids invited to my party took cake, and smeared it in his mouth.He was delighted, but, as more cake then breath filled his mouth, he started to choke. I was outraged, frightened. didn't the kid know my beautiful baby brother couldn't breathe?.. I snatched the kid's hand away, and slapped it. (There is a picture in an old album, of me, roaring with anger, my hand in the baby carriage) I wiped Georgie's mouth, and got him his "baba". He looked at me with his stunning brown eyes, fringed with the thickest, blackest lashes, and i fell in love. I love him to this day, as intensely, though, i am sure it doesn't show. I would walk thru fire for him, my little brother, the comedian, the spoiled, the tender, the stubborn, brother of mine...Later