I wrote this post back on September 4th and didn't publish it. I've since gone off the oxi's and my toe feels a bit better.... just in case you're worried.
I've also gotten several texts from M. Phone calls,too.
I'm sitting outside the Sandy Starbucks with my iPad, a bluetooth keyboard, two Venti iced Americanos with extra soy milk and five splendas each. One is half-caff. The non-half-caff Americano has only a bit of ice remaining in the cup. I have a box of Marlboro lights, a yellow lighter, and a pastel green bumpered iPhone. Why all of these objects are important to detail for you is a mystery to me. There is morning wind and I keep getting up to adjust the umbrella to shade me from the morning sun.
I'm hunched over the table because the font of this writing is too small for me to read far away.
I am resisting the urge to text M, who is dove hunting with his father, brother, and others, in West Texas. I flew back to Salt Lake from Texas yesterday and sent him several texts. Flying always causes a bit of anxiety. After the "Ciao" i got when I texted that I was about to take off, I've gotten only radio silence.
This has caused anxiety. But what doesn't for me these days, really?
My life is upheaval right now. Most of it internal. There are warring factions making claims to my life. M is a constant image in my mind. An obsession, really. I admit to being obsessive compulsive. I leave off the 'disorder' part of OCD, because I simply don't agree with that assessment most of the time. As Jonathan Franzen puts it, OCD is a term to 'medicalize' peoples' experience of life. My experience of life.
I'm reading an essay about his father's progressive Alzheimer's.
My new attention to Jonathan Franzen is inspired by L, who featured his rules for writing in a recent blog post. She says his focus on writing gives him freedom from anxiety, fear, anger, and purposelessness. All of these terms grabbed my attention. Freedom from all that simply by focusing on writing. She also mentioned that he has a sparse writing space with no pictures or other distracitons on the wall, not TV and no internet. Just a laptop and his throughts to write with.
L says she's given up TV altogether and is focusing on heavy reading. A double ententre. Lots of reading. Taxing reading. The kind that costs in time, energy, and emtional turbulance. Bring on the heavy reading.
I don't think I'll be able to give up TV altoghether, but I can turn my focus to writing. This seems to be what needs to happen. The long days sans M are taxing enough. How much more taxing can some heavy reading be? I'm betting it will actually be a relief.
I'll do almost anything to free myself of a bit of this anxiety, fear, boredom, and sense of purposelessness.
Oh I forgot to mention one other thing I've got with me here at the coffee shop. I've got half an oxicontin running through my blood. 'A' gave me a couple yesterday after I flew in to help deal with the pain of having broken my toe. The upshot of these things is that it also helps with other kinds of pain. A few years ago after an accident, I told my doctor that they should prescribe opiates for depression and anxiety as well as for physical maladies. Not only do they free you of physical pain. For a little while, the emotional pain abates as well. I know it's not a permanent answer. But it's a stop-gap on the way.