Wednesday, September 23, 2009


Last week I turned 37.
I spent the day on my red couch crunching lorcets.
That food poisoning wasn't food poisoning. I have a contracted gall bladder with multiple stones that's just dying to come out. I meet with a surgeon on the 29th. My younger sister got rid of her gall bladder out at 30 so it's not really an age thing and yet the whole ordeal makes me feel so old. I am all bloated, crampy and tired in my high heel shoes with the taste of death in my mouth. Everytime it comes about it scares me. What if it's more than a bad gall bladder?
The other day I was in Walmart and I saw myself in my favorite shorts and pink Cadillac t-shirt shopping. My hair was in a bad pony tail and there I was pushing a cart around the baby section. I've seen myself on the road before-in cars I used to own or will own one day but never out shopping looking like I don't care. I disappeared around an aisle looking for dog food and I didn't chase myself for answers. As I read over this paragraph I realize I might not explain this as a time warp but rather as losing my mind.
And if I do lose my mind, it's surely to be expected. I used to kick ass at work. I felt good about what I did and how I did it but now I just want out. I even went as far as to march into Human Resources and submit my two week notice but they wouldn't accept it. An evil has entered my department and has the black girls anointing themselves with oil and calling on Jesus. I'm supposed to bring in more people and I see them all desperate for a job. They come in wearing their best clothes and tarnished smiles and I want to help them out. Instead they sit there for hours waiting for Evil to judge them and maybe he'll put them to work but any money will go to his paycheck while they will work 6 days a week chasing a check that will never be what was promised. It's the millennium cubical chain gang and I hate it. I'm too old for this. I don't want to answer for it when Jesus shows up for the black girls.
I told Human Resources that it plays with my humanity and they probably did me a short term favor. I need the health insurance but I promise I will leave when they remove my diseased parts and prove that I wont die but ugly away like the people before me have. I miss feeling good about what I do. I miss making a difference for someone instead of giving them the keys to the same chains of regrets I have around my fat ankles.
May our burdens bring us wings and may I shit on their cars as I fly away.


Anonymous said...

You are such an articulate writer. I wish you well and hope you get through this successfully.

Melissa said...

OMG, sweetie! What dark little place you are in right now...sniff. :( I wish there was something I could do, or say to make you feel better.

My mom had laparoscopic gall bladder removal surgery, and she was back to normal in just a day or two. You are going to be OK! I just wish I could make you feel better right now.

Melissa XX