Fat Bunny

It’s been over three years now of constant distraction. A never ending treadmill of jobs, stress, food, pills, shopping, surface level chats, and social media posts.

A functional wreck with a smile holding back a dam full of tears and acceptance.

Not only have I not dealt with grief, guilt, anger… I have let it eat me up inside and make me disconnect from those around me. The only genuine emotion that sneaks out into the real world is frustration, and I keep a close watch on that.

I need to sit with things in a quiet room and let the feelings feel safe to come out without fear of being pushed down with endless empty entertainment and sugary input.

Initially it was a coping tactic to make sure the PTSD didn’t burn itself so deeply into my brain that I couldn’t get it out. Then it became a habit that kept me functional and available for the needs of those that depend on me. Now it a glass jar keeping all the emotions in and out, and it’s tiring.

Time to risk falling down.

I woke up with my shoulders on fire from a few days of working above my head on rafters and ceilings. The desire to take some painkillers and lay on the couch all day was very strong. Luckily it’s only a couple of days after a new year so there is a still a sliver of hope that maybe this will be a productive year with purpose.

The other motivator was the voice in my head telling me not to NOT LET THE OLD MAN IN.

Aging is inevitable, debilitating illness a definite possibility, but shuffling about and giving up is pretty sure way to speed up the decline. I have also discovered that you don’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows about it, you can be annoyed and angry about it the whole time and still keep going. Sometimes I need to choose anger and bloody mindedness when all else fails. I will finish this bloody job and complain the entire time is okay, but only if you finish.

The problem with being your own boss is that you’re in charge of keeping your only employee motivated. I spend a lot of time alternating between bribes, encouragement, and threats of beatings, and since I am also the HR department the complaints have been ignored.

I’m really sick of struggling being my whole personality at the moment. Objectively I get it because it has been a hell of a few years and that stuff would grind anyone into a thick unpleasant paste, but still…

Complicated children, some health issues, and a sprinkling of poor decision seasoning all added to a pandemic and the loss of a parent is going to beat the hobbies out of you, but still…

It’s hard to take time to do something as simple as read a book, or scribble a picture when you are basically trapped in a situation that requires you to either be building, thinking about building, raising the money to keep building. This is one of those times where the only way out is through, and believe me I have run all the simulations. I know if I can just keep juggling and shuffling there is a good chance I will be done by July, and moved shortly afterwards. At which point money should sort itself out and stress should return to normal levels. I’m kind of counting on it, and by kinda I mean completely counting on it.

So tomorrow I will be back in the truck heading to cabin with a bunch of materials purchased on credit that hopefully I can pay for next month by selling some furniture and other tat. Working hard enough to keep myself too exhausted to worry and then coming home to a bowl of cereal and valium.

But maybe this time next year I will be back being the affable wanderer that spends his days drinking coffee and filling sketchbooks with something other than building plans and shopping lists.

As any technically minded individual will be able to tell you all electronic devices have an inner core of magic smoke that makes them function. Which is why when you see a puff of smoke escaping from your laptop it doesn’t work anymore, because of the lack of aforementioned magic smoke.

Although I am not a doctor, I’m sure humans also function pretty much the same way. You start out with a full tank of magic smoke as a child and you keep going until it all escapes. Unlike a blender or a hairdryer all the smoke doesn’t just escape at once, it leaks out slowly over the years. For some it lasts years and you trundle along decade after decade till you just fizzle out one day, for others you come out of the factory a faulty tank that never held a full charge, which seems unfair and someone should off some kind of warranty.

So barring a manufacturing fault or accidental tank rupture you get around 70-80 years of use out of your body before the smoke gets out. That seemed like a lot longer when I was 20. Hell it seemed like a lot longer even five years ago. Something taking a couple of years at 30 is a lot less concerning than something taking a couple of years at 55.

Lately there has been an increasing sense of urgency about getting back to having a life, but I am not sure how. The work seems endless and my motivation and energy is definitely finite. I have been relying pretty heavily on the universe just working it out for me and showing me a great big glowing neon sign with the solution in it, but so far not so much as quick note saying NORMAL SERVICE WILL RESUME SHORTLY.

I’m starting to think I need to come up with my own plan, and make sure I don’t let my magic smoke just slowly escape while I am not paying attention.

Today at the farm I saw a tawny frogmouth owl. I have never seen one there (or anywhere) before, let alone a stones throw from where I was. I will acknowledge that they have a very effective camouflage routine of pretending to be a branch so it’s possible it has been there and I haven’t seen it.

I will just say in advance that I hold zero religious beliefs including any about reincarnation etc, but… this owl looked damn familiar. If my father was coming back as something it would be this serious grey bearded loner.

Before leaving the farm I told the owl he was welcome to stay and he would be safe here… and then I added “and just in case it is you I need you to stay”…