Sunday, February 21, 2016


It happened again.

I can't predict it.
I can't plan for it.

And I've had a really hard time articulating it.

I usually just call it a "funk"
because that makes sense.
We understand funks.
No explanation needed.

It doesn't take something big;
it's often a very small thing that happens.

I'll see a photo of myself,
I'll walk by a mirror,
I'll be watching TV,
I'll be having dinner,
I'll be lying in bed,
I'll be having a conversation,
I'll be driving,
I'll be having fun.

I'll be minding my own business
and it'll hit me.

I'm awful.

I'm ugly,
I'm useless,
I'm fat,
I didn't work hard enough,
I have ugly hair,
I have an ugly face,
I have any ugly heart.

And I'll just start to cry,
because I really made a convincing argument just then.

And I'll start cancelling plans,
making excuses to stay home,
to ignore people I love,
to wallow.

How can people even look at you without vomiting?
My brain asks me this about every five minutes or so.

How could you let yourself go
after all the love they've given you?
This is how you treat them?
This is how you repay them?

By being yourself?

By trying to exist without thinking about
how your terribleness is impacting them?

No. No. You need to sit here in time-out

and think about what you did
and how you are going to fix this.


When we recognize a pattern,
it's important to address it
so maybe it can stop happening?

But my brain,

ever cunning, that one,
is really good at finding new stuff
to be horrified about.

IT needs to go to time-out,

not me.

I've got too much shit to do.

-C McG

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