Jun 12

Foot Baths and Saber Tooth Tigers

I fell asleep during therapy today.

My therapist went to the restroom, and in the two minutes she was gone, I fell flat out asleep. I got back to my mom’s house and tried to use her foot bath (you know the awesome jiggly massage tubs of warm heaven)  from like 1987, and the fucker was broken. I still had hot water in it, and apparently that is all it takes to put me into a mini-coma for FIVE HOURS. I woke up with one foot still in the tepid water and the other one out of the bath at an odd angle.

I went to Wal-Mart to pick up some bits and stuff for both Mom and the Viking and I. I was pushing the cart along, exhausted, and realized why all tribes of humans feed people who have lost loved one. Like I sorta got it before, but now I really get it.

You are too damn tired to acquire food. You know you need it, but damn, your entire body is like “Fuck you, I need a nap and why aren’t our feet up, you crazy bitch.’

I was pushing a long that cart and KNEW knew if I had been early man and I was out trying to procure food on the Savannah and a saber tooth tiger, or what the fuck tried to eat humans back then, came after me, I would lay down and tell the thing to please go for my throat because I was just too tired to have survival instincts.

He’d be all like “mmm a plump one…”

You hear people talk about it. You think you understand, but you just don’t. Seriously, I didn’t even know until today. The whole first part of this week I was on this weird energy high. All I could see were the blessings mixed with the pain. I still see them, but I have no energy to respond. It’s like “oh, lovely, blessings and such, where’s the netflix remote? And, seriously, why the fuck are my feet so fucking huge?”

I was also so glad I didn’t run into anyone I knew. I can fake a smile at strangers and mumble about being fine.

Had a loved one seen me my only response could have been “I fell asleep during therapy, and I’m wearing my dead dad’s slippers. He left one in the drive way for me. He clearly wants me to have them. They are mine. Yes, I’m aware this is technically public. I FELL ASLEEP IN THERAPY.”  I would have then shuffled off without ever letting the other person respond.

Grief is glamorous shit.


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