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February 16, 2012

I think I might need a rubber band to snap on my wrist or something, like a mental patient from a cheezy 80’s movie, shuffling around in oversized plaid shirts with shoulder pads,no waistline with high-waisted jeans. Some other behavioral therapy technique to calm my chattery mind.

I can just be sitting and thinking about banal items like the cats, gas in the car, the next day I work, someone I mean to call, beer I want to drink, things to eat for dinner-you know-just that stream of consciousness thinking that makes no sense to anyone but you. Then whamo. I mean WHAMO. I am thinking about negative shit, crap that makes me feel breathless and remember how much my stomach hurts and that I might have appendicitis, how much work sucks, how I am sure to failing my children, I should be having sex with my husband more often, how can I be married for so long…until I am out of breath, I have to pee and shit.


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