Something has my attention
When I need to see how far I’ve come, I read back into posts I have left behind me. This was originally posted on July 1, 2013 and is part of the decommissioned part of my blog.
I don’t know what it is, yet, but something has my attention. I’m feeling… strange. Something has me on point, on edge; standing on tiptoes straining to see or hear the faintest trace of danger in the air. It whooshed by me sometime earlier and I tried to ignore it.
I woke this morning from cycling dreams of being in a place where I am not wanted, not welcome and belong less than zero. Not stressful really, just hectic in an anxious way. I wasn’t wound up about them on Saturday or Sunday morning but still… I’ve been jumping (out of my chair kind of startle) at every unexpected noise since Saturday morning. Every time D or C touch me my skin starts to crawl and my body shrinks from them against my will. Touch is bad but the smells…I can smell *everything* when I go out in public. We went to the Bulk Barn to get me some cinnamon something (been craving it so much recently – discovered it’s a natural anti inflammatory) and not only was I overwhelmed by the smell of the hundreds of spices, candies and dried fruit and nuts, I could smell every person in the place too.
I counted them, the customers and staff, without using my eyes, and tried to remove their scent from the mix…usually this settles my need to feel in control of my immediate environment but this time? Not much help. I tried very hard not to be in the same aisle as anyone because the scent of their unwashed skin mixed with sugary candies and sweet dried fruits made the bile start to rise in my throat. There was one couple who were wearing sandals that clearly did not react chemically well `with their feet. Everywhere they went, they left a slight acidic trail of foot odour. I carried the taste of that smell in the back of my throat until I hit the coffee aisle when I stayed a while, breathing deeply.
The register would print, I’d jump. The air conditioner would come on, I’d jump. Someone would drop something or slam a plastic lid down or speak too loudly or too close to me….I’d jump. It was sort of ridiculous. D came upon me trying to negotiate a plastic bag, another bag of cinnamon candies, my phone, the plastic lid on the bin, the metal scoop and gave me a hand.
“Here, Grainne, let me…” He started.
I jumped, dropped everything in my hands and jumped again when I felt his hand on my shoulder, trying to settle me.
Once we left the store I felt a little better but I was rigid with anxiety. I couldn’t get any of my muscles to relax and I had turned into a nightmare of a back seat driver. Every time we stopped I would gasp and say something stupid to D like “don’t trust the brakes so much!”. He’s been through this sort of thing with me many times though…he has learned to tune me out when I get jumpy like this. I closed my eyes and willed myself to just relax and trust D who is an excellent driver, to get us safely home.
Last evening I was hearing things every few moments, seeing movement where there actually was none. I was restless; wanting to be outside wandering, or digging through old belongings trying to find..something.
I woke this morning with a start and instantly threw my blanket off, holding my hands in front of my face. I had no idea what I was looking for, but it was definitely an urgent matter. My heart stopped beating for a second as I realized that they were not my hands. Somehow overnight, my hands had been taken and replaced by something I didn’t recognize. I turned them around, palms, backs, palms….they were the wrong colour. The shape of the fingers was wrong, the palms too long, the fingertips too rounded. There were way too few lines in my palms and there was something structurally wrong with the thumbs, I couldn’t quite tell what it was. The nail beds were the wrong colour, the cuticles wrong, the shape of the crescent, even. Nothing looked right. I touched them together and felt somewhat familiar skin with the halves of my hand that isn’t completely numb. That feeling creeped me out even more so I just got up and tried to ignore the crawly feeling in my shoulderblades and the worried lump in my throat.
So yeah. Even inside my home this weekend, I’m hyper-tuned into sound. I can hear the tiniest sound and (eventually) isolate it and identify its source. I’ve been doing this for hours. The worst offenders? Colt and his computer games and yahoo videos. Next is that horrid chicken house my landlord put in my backyard. One of the scraggly things looks like it’s being eaten by the others. She’s got no feathers left on her back..poor thing. They’re weird birds though…I think some of them are psychologically damaged. They’ll be walking along then suddenly, for no apparent reason, flop onto their side and just lay there a while. I thought they might be laying eggs and this was part of the … delivery process? lol…I grew up in the city. I didn’t even know that there were wild turkeys until I moved here.
Anyway. I try to steer clear of the chicken coop.