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Scarry, scarry night

This is one of those nights that I just have to retreat into my space at home. I put Vivaldi on my iTunes to tune out the ugliness of the day. Scars, I've got a few, but who doesn't on this pilgrimage of life. But mine have begun to haunt me, first at night by robbing me of a peaceful night's sleep, then stripping me of my dignity as a human being by harming a family member. The scars of the past have collided with the scars of the present in the anxiety closet in my mind. I can't run away, can't hide, can't ignore them. And so I retreat into my space and Vivaldi's magic begins to work and for the time at least I have peace. The demons in the closet are drowned out by violins and flutes.

Love is patient but during the turmoil, that saying is a little hard to remember and act upon. My younger sister and her beautiful 11 year old daughter live together with me. For the most part we all get along pretty well but my sister has anorexia nervosa and sometimes she "falls off the wagon." Life becomes a living hell for me watching her get skinnier and skinnier. She says she'll quit when she wants to but by then it's almost to late. The addiction has her firmly in his iron grasp. She finally went to a doctor who referred her to a shrink whose next available appointment was nearly a month away. What good is that going to do to put off a patient in a critical stage. If she had cancer, she could be eaten up by it before she got help by the way this town is run. I'm going to see her primary care physician even if I have to pay for an appointment. How could the man look at her 79lb frame and not put her in the hospital! The meds he prescribed are for only 30 days but what in the meantime?

Well, in the meantime, I have a thesis that I can't focus enough on to get it done, have taken a sabbatical from teaching, and take meds to lower the stress on me. To top it off....I was diagnosed with gallstones! Of all the audacity. I have neither the time nor the money for such endeavors. Scars? I feel a big one coming on.

Captain America is dead and I don't feel to good myself

Every time I hear the word scars, I am reminded of Young Guns 2. I love the beginning where the guy comes out to interview Billy the Kid and he tells him he needs proof of who he is. Billy asks him what kinda proof and the guy tells him, "you know scars or something. Do you have any scars?" Billy replies "Scars...Yeah, I got scars." Just the way he says it is a story in and of itself. I love that movie. "I'm Arkansas Dave Rudahbah and this heres my gang" Ol' Arkansas Dave was always trying to claim the gang until the going got, and they were all about to die. Then he was like "This is your gang kid; it's always been your gang." Reminds me of education. Everybody wants to claim it till the going gets tough. Then the Kid looks at them all and says the immortal lines "It's time to finish the game." WOW! Makes me want to get in a shoot out just thinking about it.
I had a psychotic moment the other day. As it turns out, I get it honest. Everyone on my daddy's side of the family is crazy. I don't mean like your average crazy either. I mean certifiable. I mean they have papers and everything. One of my greatest fears is that I am going to wake up one day and just be crazy. Does it take time for that to happen, or is it an all the sudden kind of thing? I don't want it to take time. Then you spend years thinking and wondering if your crazy before you ever decide on yes. I digress.
I had a psychotic moment the other day. I cleared my schedule and made a command decision that I was going to take some time for myself; a rare commodity these days. I left right after school and sprinted to the golf course. Played nine holes and had a nice relaxing afternoon. It was just what I needed. On the way home I got to thinking. (mistake number 1) Why wasn't everyday like this one. I mean did God really intend for anyone to be at the grindstone all the time? I drove home very slowly, not wanting to ruin the moment. I tossed around the idea of turning the car around and just driving away. I mean forever. Just driving off into the sunset cowboy style. Then I thought, that's half my problem. My truck, house, family, motorcycle, etc. were all things that I wanted in my life, but they are all more than just monetarially expensive. They are the things that keep me working so hard. I thought maybe I should just park the car and leave it. It is part of the evil in my life. It's part of what has turned me into the whore that I have become. I am reminded of a quote by Forest Gump:"Now mamma always said there's only so much money a man really needs. The rest is just for showing off." I slowed the car down to almost a crawl. Then I realized, without the truck I wouldn't be able to go to Biloxi for spring break! GAME ON. Screw it, so I'm shallow.

Write Night: Scars

Here's the topic for Thursday's Write Night: Scars. You may want to explore physical scars, metaphorical scars, or, as always, abandon the topic completely and write about whatever you want. I know I'm posting the topic very early, but it's a crazy week, and I'm worried that I'll forget. I look forward to reading your writing.