Dear Lord, Fix me

I wake up most days lately with an all over body ache that doesn’t go away. With it is a frequent headache that sits low on the base of my skull, enough pain to say “Hey, I’m here. Na na.”

I don’t want to get up. The comfort of layers of blankets calls like a Siren. I sleep in fits, dreams elude me. I know I’m not sleeping well or deeply if I don’t remember having dreamt. To stay is almost death, to get up means facing…well, everything. Facing the house, its clutter and dust, dirty dishes and unfolded laundry, and all the chores that have accumulated and been neglected. I just can’t.

I am overwhelmed. I want darkness, and quiet. No, I want silence. I do not want distractions, annoyances, sound. I want to cry.

I find myself jealous for things and situations of other women that I shouldn’t be. “Why does she get ____, and I don’t?” This isn’t usually me. Or maybe it is me, and the darkness of this depression is brining it up so I can deal with it. I’m not angry and have no malice. I’m just jealous. I don’t like this feeling, and feeling it makes me feel like I’m slipping deeper.

My doctor upped my meds. It’s been a couple of weeks. How soon before I feel the effects? Have they started taking effect and I’m slipping farther just as fast?

I try to pray, and talk to God. The words just aren’t there. All that comes is Fix me.

Dear Lord, fix me.

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Lobsters in my Swimming Pool

Have you ever had dreams that just stick with you, no matter how bizarre?

Last night I had lobsters in my swimming pool. Even in my dream I thought that was very odd, since it’s not a salt water pool, and yet, they seemed quite content to be there, and stranger still I wasn’t freaking out about having them there.

The house was mine, but not the one I live in, and the pool was mine, but not my real backyard. My “neighbors” asked if they could have pictures taken by our pool, but they never said what kind of pictures, I never asked and I was quite happy to let them. That’s when we found the lobsters—hundred of them—and the water had been drained about 2 feet.

My neighbors show up in wedding attire: daughter in a gown, tuxes, flowers; the whole kit-and-ka-boodle. They also changed from black to Latino somewhere between their yard and mine. They were annoyed at the lobsters, and helped to fish them out, which then threw off the entire wedding schedule and dinner party. We suggested they cook the lobsters and serve them instead of whatever else they had planned. Everyone was very happy; we had lobster for everyone!

There’s more to the dream, and it makes even less sense than lobsters in a fresh water pool. The “neighbors” revert to being black, and it becomes day time, sunny, blue skies—all the previous events happened in the misty dark of night. My yard no longer exists and we’re now at a posh resort. I’m beginning to wonder why I’m even part of this celebration since I hadn’t met my neighbors until they asked to use our pool for a backdrop, but I am feeling very comfortable and welcomed.

The party ends with guests driving away in very big, flashy cars of indistinct make or model. I begin to walk home, and find one lone lobster trying to crawl down the street, heading for the open water of the sea. It’s trapped under a ball cap and my dreamer’s perspective changes and I am now an observer, not a participant. I look up to the observer “me” and I know the look. “What do I do with a lobster? I hate lobster!”

I wake up.

I wonder what tonight’s is going to be…