Monday, March 7, 2011

I must have missed that nice ascent into adulthood. I don't think I arrived with all the right lessons and I am sure that somewhere in my past is the girl who could have been me, yanking hysterically at her shoelace sucked into the bottom of an escalator.


I didn't see the sign that said, lessons on growing up and coping, this door.


I watch Hershey circling to find her ball on snowy ground with deceiving ruts in the snow that seize bright orange or blue toys and hide them in greedy fingers. She lopes around, nose to the ground, making a wide arc, back and forth and back and forth in shrinking swings like she's drawing a bull's eye. Diminishing the edges of her search at every pass, she eventually is left with just a little patch of ground to sniff. Just her and her ball. No one taught her to do this. I do not think she knows what to do, but she is able to move through her day successfully because she has matured. I missed. I never sat in on lessons to cope. If something bothers me, I will begin worrying about it at least a month ahead of time. Jerry is going on vacation in July (I am not going. Again, can't cope) and I have already stoked the seething, angry stress inside.


Feeling as though I had swallowed sour milk Saturday, my stomach cramped, but not before a little headache knocked on my temples demanding aspirin. Minutes later I realize that the white little devil of a pill is upsetting my stomach. Later, when nothing soothes the frothing cramps inside, I catch a chill. Then I am hot. Hours later I finally feel better. For the last week my stomach has been sour. Saturday night as I trudged through a stubborn bar crowd I felt the knots winding together in my guts and tightening.


Looking out the window Sunday night at dusk I saw rain braiding together small puddles in the parking lot. Soon the water and wind swallowed riverbanks and low surfaces as cars veered sideways in a hydroplane. Just a day earlier the 50-degree warmth melted most of what was left of snow that sealed the earth beneath winter since December. Twisted and unnatural shapes emerged that would form branches and limbs once the frozen ground plucked its bony cold fingers from the tips of trees.


But cold came again to seal up any softness that could soak in the rain.


Water wandered through backyards and entered basements and cars. It closed roads and carried chunks of blacktop away. Living in a river town became a trap as I drove home Sunday at nearly 2 AM. Dark black surfaces stretched ahead and rain blurred my view. Thank God J. drove behind me. The force of striking deep water ripped the steering wheel from my fingers and yanked the Bronco out of my control. Where was the guard rail, and how had I been so stupid?


I was stalled in the middle of a main street. Hopping out and walking back to J. I said, I'll let it sit for a minute, then try to start it again.


A few minutes later the engine caught and I went home. I stalled once, but I made it, with reassuring headlights following in case I needed a ride. Thank you.


Now, If I could just puke up some of the stress, I would be fine.


Working briefly with Lily and Hershey and their training commands, I realized I was too bent to handle it. Every little thing made me scream.


Jerry goes to bed and I had hoped he would just say goodnight. Just say something soothing and normal and affectionate. I wander to the door and ask, aren't you going to say goodnight?


Well, I was, he said. With an edge he tells me, goodnight, and the door closes before I can go in.


Opening the door and unzipping that last piece of normal I was wearing, I break into little mindless pieces of stress and I have a meltdown. Jerry tells me that tonight was one of his hardest with me. My mood is impossible and I just can't manage the stress.

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