This post comes with rather a lot of warnings, the first being that it’s late at night and no-one ever really turns out their best work late at night. I’m also in the midst of the most ginormous wibbly wobbly wobble that I can remember in a long time, which isn’t going to make for easy reading.
Oh, and before you ask, this post has nothing to do with a pair of jeans unless of course we’re going to accept that WeeGee is having a ginormous wibbly wobbly wobble that she’s trying to pin on a pair of jeans even though the jeans have nothing to do with it. Welcome back to WeeGee land……
It all started a few weeks ago when it seemed that my life divided in two. On the one hand I had the whole ‘I’m doing well, it’ll all be fine’ thing going on – on the other it was all a bit ‘what the FUCK, this isn’t supposed to be happening and I’m not too sure what to do to make it right’. I suppose I should have spotted the problem coming down the tracks, but, you know, brains don’t really work like that, especially not alien brains. I’m not going to beat myself up about that.
Anyway – so there I was, wobbling about all over the place. On the one hand everything was fine, and on the other hand it really wasn’t but I was just about managing to ignore the crazy. And then the crazy started leaking out of my ears*
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been so crazy that the crazy leaked out of you ears. I mean, I hope not, because it SUCKS, but then again, at the very least, I’m hoping you’ll know what I’m talking about? For me, I guess, it was one of those moments when I was reminded that I’m not always going to be able to do this whole being alive thing by myself.
So, I did what it used to take me along time to do, and I asked for help.
In some ways I’m lucky. When I ask for help a whole support machine seems to swing in to place around me. But then again, that’s only because of where I’ve been, and what I’ve (somehow) managed to survive. But it’s there, and the most important thing I’ve discovered this week is that I can ask for it.
Tonight I’m feeling very quiet and frightened and, to be honest, a bit boo hoo. At the same time I’m proud because I’m trying to stop the worst of me from happening to myself. I’ve said so many times in my blog that dealing with crazy is about doing the right things even when they feel wrong. Now, I suppose, it’s time to put my money where my mouth is.
As for the jeans? Well they don’t matter at all, so I’m not going to talk about them other than to say that if clothes from the past no longer fit then the past is surely a healthy distance away.
Here’s a song to end on. It’s about jeans. Sorta:
I love you all lots like a million billion jelly tots xoxo
*I borrowed this phrase from a fellow crazy. I know she won’t mind.