Ha Bumhug

I have not been a very good blogger as of late. Actually, I haven’t been a good anything lately. At the most, I think I am depressed, and at the least, I’m in an adversity-powered rut. I don’t wanna work, I constantly crave comfort food, I don’t want to get out of bed, and I pretty much despise being in my skin. Watching my grandmother wither away, and the effect that it is having on my mom, has knocked me out of orbit. I think it started to really get to me a couple of weeks before my birthday. I crawled out the hole long enough to have a great time during my b-day weekend, but then I fell right back in. Trying to talk myself out of the rut only makes things worse because I start to feel like an asshole for not counting my blessings and keeping my chin up. So basically I float around, going through the motions, waiting for the rut, or my Mammaw’s life, to end.

Here’s an example of how numbing this rut is:

As some of you know, I have a new truck. She is a beauteous bitch and I am proud of her. Monday I backed her into a pole. I didn’t even flinch. I didn’t care. Before arriving at work, I finally pulled over to check it out, not to see if there was damage, but to make sure the taillight was still functional. Being that my fine bitch is made of actual metal, nothing was wrong. The pole gave up a layer of its paint, which I easily flicked off with my fingernail. Normally, hitting a pole would have sent me into a flying banshee tizzy, but I was cool as a cucumber.

This disturbs me. I want to be bothered by property damage. I want to be able to care enough about myself to go to the gym, or at least get out of bed. Being pissed is better than being nothing. I am obviously not coping properly, or perhaps I am wrapped in a cocoon waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I am leaning towards the latter. I feel that I am numbing up for the inevitable. If I’m good and numb, perhaps I will be able to pull my mom through the flames before I fall apart. How good I imagine that release must feel. To finally fall apart.

Till then, unless someone has some good advice, I think I’ll stay in my bunker. Mind you, I do intend to step up my attention to that hand/eye coordination jazz in the interim. There’s a pussy wagon at stake here!