Since I got everything on my to-do list done by yesterday, the only thing I had to do today was to ask the Butcher if the Dracula in this movie was played by John Travolta. But that was interrupted by the terrible and scary news the Butcher had about the Redheaded Kid. Some folks get weird about me talking about them on the blog, so I’m not going to go into details, but people, you know what a dear friend the Redheaded Kid has been to us, even when he drinks my last Diet Dr Pepper.
Please, if you have a spare good wish, give it to the Redheaded Kid, especially since, when he and the Butcher lose their jobs at the end of the month, he will lose his health insurance. What he’s going through is scary enough. The thought that the course of treatment he might have will be determined by the fact that he’s losing his health insurance is just frightening.
Anyway, now I have depressed myself all over again. And I was just trying to tell you a nice story about how I almost got stuck in Bells Bend Park.
So, it goes like this. There are two cemeteries in the park. One seems like it should be fairly easy to find. So, the dog and I went out in search of it. There’s a place where a little stream crosses the road and I got across it fine. I had a fleeting thought of “ha, I’m surprised that didn’t trigger a panic attack” but I was already across it and I had obviously successfully crossed it so I didn’t think to bother to turn around and it didn’t really occur to me that I would have any problems later.
I’m sure that you can see where this is going.
Anyway, I don’t know if I found the cemetery or not, though I surely found evidence of non-Indian inhabitants on the hill–daffodils, bricks, a big square thing, and a stacked stone wall, which, in Middle Tennessee is almost always evidence of slave labor.
And then we came back. And I couldn’t get across the creek. For, I don’t know, like twenty minutes. It didn’t go into a full-blown panic attack, but I was sweating and dizzy and it sucked. And I kept thinking that I could do it if I just had someone’s hand to hold. And so I began to realize that I was going to need to call the Butcher to come rescue me. And I thought about how stupid this was, both to call the Butcher to save me and that my brain was fucking up in this particular way. And I also realized that the full-blown panic attack wasn’t coming on.
So, in the end, this isn’t a story about me overcoming some outside obstacle and pushing myself to my limits. And it isn’t even about me overcoming the fucked up things my brain will do to me. I just was fucked up for about twenty minutes and then I stopped being. And I don’t know why. I just stepped across the creek and it was fine.
I honestly don’t know what makes this day any different than other days, but it was, so that was nice. And I didn’t have to call the Butcher. So, that was nice, too.