Sunday, May 09, 2010

Everything and nothing to do with her

This is the worst day yet, I mean the day when I feel the worst. When I got here, in this hotel room, started to unwind, realized I’ve been in the same space with my mother for 10 days I think, and being in the same space with anyone would be hard, I need at least a few hours at the beginning of the day before I see anyone, just to feel like maybe I can function. So, when I got here, in this hotel room, late at night and it felt so calm. But then, while I was sleeping, the smoke detector started beeping, no beeping sounds too soft – it was emitting a high shriek every 30 seconds or so, maybe it was doing it before too but I didn’t notice, and I kept thinking I could fall back asleep anyway, but then I would hear that shriek and still I would try, and then I would hear that shriek, and then eventually I got up and called the front desk, and it took them 45 minutes to send someone up, or it took the person 45 minutes to get here, 45 minutes of trying not to wake up, but waking up, awake, 7 am or 7-something, and eventually someone arrived and took the thing off the wall and then I fell back asleep, but when I woke up I felt awful, and my mother hadn’t dropped off the food for me like we’d planned, we’d accidentally left a bag in the car and I didn’t have any food except a tiny bit of rice and some asparagus, I got back in bed.

Got up and I felt better but still no food, I heated up the rice and cooked the asparagus and that was okay but it barely did anything, this panic of hypoglycemic rage I mean that’s what happens, that’s why I eat all the time, I never let myself get to this point without food, I should’ve gone back with my mother to get that bag of groceries last night but I felt so tired, I wanted to rest. Eventually my mother comes over, she wants to talk about my plans with my grandmother but I can’t talk until I’ve eaten, she knows that. Still she wants to talk.

We unpack the groceries, my mother starts to chop an onion for me but she cuts herself. I give her a bandaid, I have some in my bag. It’s the way she looks at me, like I’m hurting her by not sitting down to talk, by the way that I feel that has nothing and everything to do with her, by trying to take care of myself, and I then I feel like a horrible person, a horrible person for not holding my mother and nurturing her and I know that sounds crazy but this is what happens, this always happens at some point when I see her and then I feel like I deserve to die, like childhood never ended, like I’ll never get away, like I can’t keep traveling, I need to cancel my talk in Oregon, I need to get on a plane and go back home, home that doesn’t feel like home anyway but I need to get back.

No comments: