I like swim at about six o’clock in the evening on Sundays. The sun is finally dipping below the stone wall that edges my parents property, making the land on the other side look like it’s on fire…then just glows below the surface, making everything yellow and gold. The heat finally breaks about this time. I think it’s silly to swim in the heat of the afternoon, because by this time of the day, you’re still sweaty. I’m the only one who swims at this time. My mom sits in the pool from dawn until dusk on her inflatable chair, reading the latest book that’s replaced whatever Oprah used to decree. My father is quickly falling asleep in his chair and my brother and sister are off with their significant others.

Leaving me to the pool.

The water cools off a lot when there’s no sun hitting it, so it’s cold and silky, soft to the touch. You have to get in quick to get used to the chill but once you dive under, your whole body sings. I swim over to the side and hold on, looking over the edge at Mount Monadnock sitting majestically in the distance, or out at the old barn, or just into space, listening to the crickets sing in the grass as the sun dips even lower.

My life is changing.

I can feel it as well as I can feel the keys on the keyboard in front of me. I can hear the whispers of change as well as I can hear the lyrics of Pete Yorn’s “Lose You”, a rolling, rumbling, beautiful, husky piece of music that makes me want to lay in the grass of a field and stare into the sun. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel sad. It makes me feel real. Music has validated my emotions over the past couple of days. It clears my head.

Work has been hard but it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just a job and that’s that. Home situation has skyrocketed and plummeted and I just strap myself in and enjoy the rollercoaster ride. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror and see this little smile that has rested on my lips. I’m not completely happy. But today I feel like I could very well be close. Honesty has been my savior, words come rolling out of my mouth before I can stop them and go tripping about the room with relief of finally being said. I can just close my eyes and say “I think that…”, “I feel like…”, “I am…”

No thanks to a rather strange weekend.

I don’t know what I want to say about it, other than I thought, for a split second, that I should go back to the doctor. Go back on meds. Panic attack Friday night, sitting in my car outside the restaurant that I was meeting my family at for my sister’s Going Away Dinner. Couldn’t breath, felt like I was going to be sick. Scared for my life. Couldn’t get out of the car.

I don’t know what it is. I know what doctors say it is. I know what the commercials on TV say. I can’t take those pills again. I can’t drop back into it again. Feeling numb. I feel like I’ve finally woken up. But have I really? Is this my reality? Not being able to enjoy a dinner out because I can’t move? Is the reality Zoloft again? Or whatever else they can shove down my throat? Is it necessary? Is it all in my head?

“Just float…”

Floating is hard. I can’t hold my breath for that long anymore.

But happiness is just an inch away, hiding behind the screen, waiting for me to find it, pick it up and eat it all up. I feel like I could be happy. Feel like life suddenly makes blinding sense.

My sister left for college today. I’m going to miss her. A lot.

“I’m taking a ride off to one side, it’s a personal thing…Where? When I can’t stand up in this cage I’m not regretting.

I don’t need a better thing, I’d settle for less, it’s another thing for me, I just have to wander through this world alone.

Stop before you fall into the hold that I have dug here, and rest even though you are starting to feel the way I used to, I don’t need a better thing (just to sound confused). Don’t talk about everyone, I am not amused by you.

I’m gonna lose you.

Yeah, I’m gonna lose you, if I’m gonna lose you, I’m gonna lose you.

Yeah I’m gonna lose you, if I’m gonna lose you, I’m gonna lose you.

I’ll lose you now for good.”

-Pete Yorn, “Lose You”, musicforthemorningafter

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