Monday, August 12, 2013

Exhaustion/Rest

I notice catchphrases and pet words a lot. For example: I have amazeballz, epic, and fuck on really heavy rotation. I realized today that I've been saying "I'm exhausted" very frequently. I've obviously got a solid reason to be emotionally strung-out right now, watching my Dad fight to live against a diagnosis from a nightmare, but I've been saying this for much longer than that. Now that I've heard myself explain to myself what I need, out loud, in a very simple metaphor, I'm actually listening. Exhaustion doesn't mean tired or fatigued. It means empty. An exhausted supply of something. It implies that there is something needed that once was and then got used up. 

I'm sick at the moment and having a pain surge that's causing insomnia, but that's not my exhaustion. It did lead to more wordthink, though. I lay down after Molly and Shane were off to school and work, and thought getting some rest. In that word choice I saw an idea that Rest was something you can just load up on- maybe fill an exhausted vessel with it. At the market you pick up a bag of organic, locally-grown Rest.  I think you don't just get rest. You have to find rest or make rest. You make love, you make rest, so that's a good phrase. I wasn't able to find or make rest yet or to fill any of my exhaustion but my mind's tripping happily on these ideas.

Saturday I did fill up a little. I took a ritual bath, cast circle and all. I can't remember the last time I held circle without Molly. I wondered if the mojo would have run away having heard me identify as atheist so often. But no, it's a brave and pragmatic mojo. So I scented the bath and lit candles for the four elements (plus spirit, hesitantly) and poured in sea salts. I played tribal music and--

Holy shit! I just realized what store I'd exhausted: Spoons. Literally, that isn't a stylistic line break; I just had this epiphane. So spoons. Gotta feed the exhaustion things that level up my spoons supply. Food, sleep, writing/journaling/processing. Sex, hot baths, drawings. Quietness, reading, listening. And then I have to be a spoon accountant: Fill the ledger and watch where/how I direct my energy. I need to stop letting my stores get so low. No more mojo shortages.

And now I'm going to make some rest
until the Bird's back in the nest. 

Oh. I poemed a little. 
Like a doodle in words. 
A woodle.

I am stoned so very much on meds right now.
Antihistamines are playing funny games with my opiates. 
And now they need to show me where to find rest.
Oh, damn. Now what if rest is like a location and self care is like a GPS to get to it... But I'd have to rewrite my post so big, hefty rice bags full of Rest-objects it is. Rest beads. Yeah.

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