homemade security

June 3, 2013

I’m doing that thing where I implode.

s’pretty slo-mo at the moment; I have all these barriers in place for such events. Barrels full of water, mirrors, flashing lights, trip-wire alarms. Blast doors. On-call parades, technicolour stories, opened pages of books laid out like jangly bells and sweet-treat traps, narrative birdlime, trip sensors that flick on when I pass a certain mark, geared to start unspooling Larkin or Hopkins into my brainspace. A long reel of overwritten lines, fantasies pooled in corners thick as molasses to drown you in. I’m prepared, yo. This is one of the triggered pit-stops, the places I write things down, sort things out. I had another one yesterday, where I hung out with Actual People and Did Things With Friends. I’ve built mechanisms into my head that hit the logical switch and say when you feel like this, you need to do thisScrew all the other academic stuff you should be doing, at home, alone in front of your computer with a whole lot of books you don’t care about right now. I have survival built into my brain, like my head is that house from Home Alone and I’ve had a really brattish kid running around in it, booby-trapping everything. This is in many ways somewhat comforting.

It also means I’m not sure exactly where I am with the implosion. There’s a giant inferno eating up layers in section two, but it’s been diverted into the area with the blast doors and lowered oxygen. This section of the attic has domino’d in, but the steel-reinforced concrete wall halfway through has trapped it off. The seismic foundation is dealing with the aftereffects of that shockwave relatively well, despite all the smashing you’re hearing (my glassware collection’s never gonna be the same again). And whatever’s running around screaming and bleeding in the basement has gotten temporarily stuck in the golden lurch of fiction, wrapped tight-round and elephant-tranquilizer’d with words until I’m free to go deal with it. This basically means there are infernos, earthquakes, collapses, screaming and cataclysmically apocalyptic things going on in my head and my life, but they’re not showing up in the same devastating, fall-apart way like they did before. In effect,  I’m not taking them as seriously as perhaps I should because I’m actually kinda handling them. Kinda.

I mean, they’re still happening. And there are warning signs I can’t ignore. Like the bit where I can’t do any work. Or the radioactive sections of my brain I’m really not touching right now. Or when I spent most of Friday crying. But at the same time, I’m actually feeling pretty okay, and the inside of me isn’t a devastated bombed-out wreck, and I was enjoying how pretty the sky looked just now, and I’m having nice conversations online with friends, and I’m lucid and feeling stable, and I’m not curled up in bed trying desperately not to be alive. So I’m really not sure whether I’m underrating or overrating what’s going at the moment. It’s confusing. I’m confused.

But because we have survival stations built into the brainbox, the gathering snowball of events has flicked the switch that goes you need to talk to People In Charge about this stuff. So I’m going to go talk to People In Charge about this stuff, tomorrow, and see if I can get some of it taken off my back. My brain is dealing, but I don’t want to push it past the point where it doesn’t deal.

I like feeling like I’m actually sane, and more recovered than I was. Somewhat. I’m falling apart in a way that means I’m not actually totally falling apart and I think that’s pretty cool right now, confusing as it is. I feel like I’ve made some significant home improvements here.

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One Response to “homemade security”


  1. Very glad to hear you’re talking to people in charge! You know what’s good for holding up collapsing shelves of glassware? Earthquake brackets and bluetack. just call if you need some extra supplies. I don’t actually have any myself but I can commiserate with you about them.


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