#191

I was saying something about how, some days, some moments, I wish I were in a coma, and could sleep through all the mess of the days and then wake up to feeling fresh and new and amazed at what had happened or not while I was under.

She didn’t say anything.

Me: I’m not sure I can keep going. I can’t keep this up.
Her: What?
Me: Everything.

She looked at me with a concerned eye that I knew well, but chose to ignore this time.

Me: If you don’t want to hear this, you can go, you know?
Her: I know. I’m just worried.

She was worried, I thought.

H, my therapist, she says, keep it small, bring it all back down. Manage what you can manage, but lately, I don’t know if I've been able to manage anything.

The feeling of gloom had initiated a round of shopping for things - I felt like I could just spend, and it was fine because it felt like it was all going to end anyway.

Shoes: $700
Tennis racket: $300
Tennis whites: $400
Leather suitcases: $3000
I didn’t go on because it felt excessive.

Her: And what’s your plan?
Me: What plan? There is no plan. It’s just minute by minute. Day by day.
Her: I see.

The dog was watching us with an eye that said, let’s get out of the house, but he was being patient about it, but I noticed and told her to put the harness on, and we’d go around the park and then to the kiosk and have a beer.

Me: Put the new harness on him. The leather one I bought in Germany.

Later, at the kiosk, a few more dogs and there was music, and the air was calm and warm, and a few fireflies were out, and I realized that maybe, this was the coma.