State of Emergency

Heather and her boyfriend are moving today and last weekend I agreed to help them (well her) build some Ikea furniture they recently acquired to accommodate the new space.

Well, actually I agreed to help during the Ikea trip I tagged along with because I will never pass up a trip to Ikea. Ever since I moved into my new studio, i've wanted a chair of some sort to fit in what can only be described as a yet-to-be made reading nook. The space is wide "enough" for a small table or a chair and because I spend most of my time at home laying/sitting around I wanted to turn it into a reading or writing nook.

I don't have disposable income these days thanks to my car but i figured this would be my last big purchase for a while and because getting a chair is the only thing I silently desired  it made sense to go ahead and buy the damn thing and worry about all the money it cost later.

Of course this was last Saturday. Last Saturday, I didn't expect the world (and myself) to feel like utter and complete poop. Last Saturday, I thought this minor expense was a good idea because the world would return to normal soon enough and I'd have this nice little chair as a consolation prize for the last 14 months of anxiety.

Of course, I was wrong, so very wrong and instead have spent the last few days rocking back and forth in this chair with what can only be described as depression, fear and nausea. My feelings of doom and unease are unshakable and I haven't been able to find one thing or person of comfort to help get me through this.  As a strongly empathetic person moments like this undue me and I've only expressed this level of dread and fear a few times in my life. The most recent being Marie's passing but even then it was different. I worried only about how I was going to move forward and survive, not necessarily how a whole country and it's inhabitants would.

Just last night I had a dream where I was being driven to some sort of concentration camp. I am in a car with a bunch of other people forced to leave their homes. Of course, we don't know our fates yet we just think we have been selected for this for involuntary relocation and do not question why or to where. They takes us four at a time in black town cars to this remote location outside of the city. As I am sitting in the car waiting to be escorted out, my cell phone begins to ring. The driver of the car says I can take the call but he will have to confiscate my phone afterwards.

I step out of the car and answer the phone, only of course to hear Sean's voice on the other end. I am annoyed that he has picked this moment to call me. I am annoyed that I am relieved for a second to hear his voice. But then he asks me why I've been away for so long, why have I made it impossible to reach me. He wants to know where I am now, not so he can come and see me, but because he wants to know finally where I have "escaped to". Any relief I felt is immediately erased by the accusatory tone of his voice. As if wherever I am, whatever shit I am in is all of my fault and he just wants to hear me admit that i've gotten to this bad place, with these bad people because I was too stubborn.

I let out the most frustrated sigh and whisper angrily that I loved him and that that  didn't matter then or now. I loved him, i repeat again as the driver of the car is now standing next to me ripping the phone out of my hand before he shoves me back in the car.

And then I wake up. I wake up.

I'm not a dream analyst but I can only surmise that my anxiety about life right now is influencing my dreams. And that fact that the last voice i spoke to was one that demeaned and de-valued me as a person must too mean something. But i'm too exhausted to even try to decipher it. What I will say is that this week has worn me out emotionally and mentally. I held "it" together Wednesday through Friday but collapsed into a despondent, helpless mess these last two days. I keep checking in with my mom and brother to make sure they are okay. I keep reading the horrible things happening to people across our country and I feel utterly helpless. I keep looking for a concrete, proactive way to help and get involved only to be met with more symbolic means to contribute.

There is this mom and pop auto shop across the street from my local supermarket that just erected a huge ass Biff/Malfoy sign followed by signs about not trusting left-winged liberals or the media. I couldn't even go about my buying groceries because I became physically ill. Instead I drove 30 minutes out of my way to the nearest grocery store and even then only ended up buying saltine crackers because it's the only thing I can keep down.

I am not doing well this weekend. I'm not. So when Heather texted me this morning wanting to know if I was still down for building Ikea furniture, I had to tell her the truth. That I struggled this morning to get out of bed, shower and feed myself. That at the moment, I am afraid to step outside of my house not because I fear for my own safety but because the world feels different and I am trying to adjust. I am a person who needs time to process things alone and right now is this moment.

I am not sure she understood any of this. As my only real friend left, I don't want to come across as selfish when I explicitly offered my assistance but as someone who often struggles to be a person throughout my normal day to day happenings, this weekend it feels impossible to fake it. I just want to stay home and watch BBC America and eat as many cookies as humanely possible. I want to stay safe and away in the only place that feels normal right now. I want to sit in my newly purchased rocking chair and re-energize and re-group for the days, weeks and months ahead.