Losing My Mind

... seems to be a part of loss. Not the going insane kind of losing my mind, and not the kind of mind absence I had when pregnant. This is like a part of me is missing, gone fishing, out to lunch.

The long irrational, deliberately childish rant of the other day was the best impulse I followed all month. And it set still some turbulent waters. I found myself able to giggle again.

Now I await another wave of sadness and I find myself curiously paused. This, I believe, is a more apt state for the moniker 'absent minded'. This is not forgetfulness, nor is it confusion. This is a part of me in hiding, covered with a veil, in-waiting. It is, I imagine, somewhat merciful as well as downright scary.

I watched Oprah. Curious. She is like a latter day saint. Or a modern girl's Jesus. I sat slumped in front of her listening to women rabbit on about menopause. I am an agnostic. Not an athiest. Agnosticism is possibly the last refuge of an escaped catholic. I am too afraid of divine retribution to rule out God entirely, but the skeptic in me sees no evidence. At least, no evidence that he she or it is all loving. Like many parents, he goes by the rule of thumb.

My leg ached and I formed an unshakeable conviction there was a blood clot inside me ready to shift and alter my course.

Oprah said "It's time to put away childish things".

Chucked out the smokes.

Trudged to Bukit Timah Plaza and bought vitamins.

This morning I had a space breakfast of two shiny pills, two speckled pills, one brown pill and a blue and white pill. And a coffee.


Listened to Starman.

Happy to not have my mind fully in place, let it rest, let it rest.