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Behind Melancholia

Month Seven.

I cannot believe it.

It seems impossible that seven months ago, I moved to my new place and moved on to what was supposed to be, a “New Chapter” of and in my life.

How the hourglass has cracked.

The first two Months were spectacular.

Educating, dedicated. Teaching still 7 Days a week. Late Nights on my enclosed Porch with my Cats. The Summer still rolling deep.

By early October, I had new (and quite frightening/alarming) Health Problems, my Best Friend(who urged me to move down here for support) was becoming a Shadow, and I was exhausted.

End of November, Work had stopped. My Friendship was cut, and I became isolated, in a place where I am literally alone.

Depression, My Cats, And Certain Films is all that I had.

Work started to progress late January, but once again after March 10, stop. *(It’s so difficult to be apart of a place, my Career for almost 22 Months now, Educating so steady, living, to this. Cycles of the unknown. No one can live like that. And, I’m Disabled).

So, on this gray Thursday, the First day of March *(The Month that I hate. Disability Month), I lie here with Tachycardia, fatigue, and doubt.

How will I make it?

I close my eyes and see myself as a child in my bedroom in the House of Horrors. I had a Lavender Unicorn Bedspread with matching Sheets and Pillow Case *(And Curtains).

I’m lying in my small bed (it was so tiny. It’s called a “Youth” bed).

I either have to get ready for School or get up and go into the livingroom. *(My Mother did not allow us to lie around or sleep late).

I am quiet but I can hear the consistency. Money.

The topic of the fights, arguments, intensified battles between my Mother and Father.

And from that age, I promised myself, I would one, leave that town, two, never fight/worry about financial crises.

And here I am, almost thirty years later, and the battle I wage alone. (And as the mirror plays the past, I too had the same daily issue with my Ex-Husband. *Not throughout our entire Marriage).

It was different for my Parents. Working-Class with two Children, Mortgage, two Cars *(One always broke down).

I’m Single. Highly Educated, “White Collar.” But, the factor, the defying difference, I’m Disabled.

I was supposed to be somebody great.

And I was. Until March 30, 2015.

So, I guess I just wake everyday with the pain from all my Medical Problems, Suffering Financially, and in constant sorrow.

It’s like the Track by Talking Heads, “Once In A Lifetime.”
And you may ask yourself, “How do I work this?”
And you may ask yourself, “Where is that large automobile?”
And you may tell yourself, “This is not my beautiful house”
And you may tell yourself, “This is not my beautiful wife.”

Prism: “used figuratively with reference to the clarification or distortion afforded by a particular viewpoint.” Dictionary.


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