Psychic Blackness - The Glass is Half-Empty Today

Today, for reasons unknown, the psychic blackness in my mind overflows. On days like today, I’m proud to say, that I’ve managed to cope in healthy ways; work out at the gym – hard, spend some time rough-housing with my kids (or as Indi calls it “rough-houseling”). I paint. I enjoy sunshine and inclimate weather. Gray and cold is a stupid combination. Sometimes I like to eat - something smooth and sweet or savory and hearty. OK, cupcake or cheeseburger… both are in the diet red zone.

What is psychic blackness you nutcase? Pyschic blackness is an overarching force precipitated by poor circumstances that cause your brain to drive on the fear-track. It temporarily changes you from an optimist to a pessimist of the venomous kind. If I weren’t a mature woman I’m sure I’d be drooling in a dark corner rocking back and forth.

My dad is dying in hospice care. He is being cared for by my youngest sister, Abbey. He’s suffering. He can’t breathe. He’s wondering why it takes so long to die. I concur. I haven’t spoken to him in 10 years… and only then because guilt asked him to attend my wedding. There’s something mystical going on there regardless. My mother-in-law was just diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s fortunate in that she has a small cancerous lump that requires a lumpectomy and radiation therapy. Pfft, radiation therapy sucks. My own Mom had it and now she is extremely vulnerable to heat and the sun. How sad when one can’t go in the sun to warm your face and shoulders. Bad news comes in threes right? (or is that death… I can’t remember). My 1 year old came down with a case of pink eye. It turns out it’s not just pink eye, it’s pink eye with cellulitis. The surrounding skin tissue is infected. She required a shot of antibiotics and woke up with AM with her eye crusted shut again, left side of her face swollen. She spit her oral antibiotics all over me. Of course, we’re both wearing black. Antibiotics are a chalky white suspension. We look like white spot- spattered Johnny Cashes. Then the kids are picking on each other

I can’t exercise, eat, shop, talk or rationalize this blackness off of me today. My mind is vulnerable to other unfinished business too. It’s like a flood of longing. Maybe if I just run outside in the snow, nude, and get back in the house I’ll feel better. It may come to that kids. I’m all for creative coping tools. Maybe that will silence the kids’ bickering and I’ll go back to being regular old pensive.