Familiar Faces

One thing I do when I'm stressed out or need to think...is take a shower. An absurdly hot, peel your senses off shower.

Tonight I made a b-line for the scalding hot water. My clothes, all snaps and buttons, end up haphazardly on the floor. It's almost criminal how I treat my delicate clothes. A thin navy blouse, beige corduroy pants, blinding white shoes all make a trail, like breadcrumbs to the shower.

Everyone's always telling me I'm so young, but sometimes I feel so old. So worn out, so scared of the future that it paralyzes my present.

I wasn't particularly thrilled to find out today that Dad's getting surgery on his leg next week.

I tried to enjoy dinner. I didn't even voice my distaste for meat, like I usually do around my parents. I sipped the red wine and engaged in witty banter.

And then that moment happens and my heart drops into my stomach and all the air gets sucked out my lungs.

I'm sure that no one would enjoy watching their Dad choke on food...but it honestly scares the shit out of me. He was fine. But Mom looked at me and looked at him and said "one of these days, you're going to give your daughter a heart attack."

And it just might.

Anytime ANYONE eats around me I get so paranoid. I study them and the small noises they make and their facial expressions; as if, at any moment they might start gasping for air.

I choked once...in...fifth grade? A piece of dough got caught in my mouth and panic engulfed my senses. I was bright red, fighting to breathe, drink water, do something, anything. It was terrifying. The look on my Mom's face at the time was just as scarring. And to think...that's what my Dad is greeted with any time he's having trouble and he looks up at me.

It's this stupid medication he's on. He went off it for a little bit and had no trouble swallowing. So choose your battle: cancer, or possibly choking to death?

I don't know. There is no right answer. There are no answers. And sometimes when I'm under that fire water I just wish I was at a bar, or in Fort Worth, or somewhere else. And someone I know would magically appear and scoop me up. They'd tell me it'd get better but the words would be hollow because I'd know they're just a lie.

I know it sounds awful. But still.

I just want a familiar face and strong arms to cage around my chest and hold me still in this world, like a gravity to keep me centered. But it's just me, myself, and I...free floating in the chaos. Pining for familiar faces.

Ten years of worrying and thinking of the worst...I wonder sometimes if I'm somewhat ruined/damaged from being under the weight of my own...... something...... I don't know.

This is a terrible blog entry, but the idiot and the wine in me will post it anyway.

(PS If you know my parents and bring up this blog entry, I will bust out my black belt and go all ninja on you...so don't even.)