Those of us who lean more toward the crazy have become experts in our field of mental illness. We look blurred into the mirror, one eye focus while the other eye sits confused by the sudden onset of light. Our hands tremble as we reach for food or soda or the tv remote, those few early symptoms of "not so good" coming to a head. We try to hold it together for everything it's worth. We try to tame the craving of running away, setting one unstable foot in front of the other, and scamper away from whatever demon we think is in hot pursuit. We start to lose sleep. We toss and turn, aggravating the loved ones and furbabies as the covers go on and then in a fit of feeling confined toss the blankets aside. This insomnia induced dance goes on for hours.
But WE see the signs, sometimes, those of us who are trained in the art of knowing our of own minds. We tend to cradle the "not so good" in order to maintain some presences of peace but deep down we know it's only a matter of time before we lay curled in front of tv, unable to focus on anything because our eyes are dry.
Halloween is one day away. One day. And I start to relive the night, that one night so long ago, now 40 years ago when who I was suppose be was shattered. I know the signs of my "not so good" now, I'm an expert, and I know I will not sleep tonight, and Halloween will be here in 46 hours, and I count them down. But I won't sleep, I don't want to see the imagines.
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