It's been a hell of a fortnight. I thought I was doing OK when I flew to Melbourne to be with my father, who had just been diagnosed as having cancer. I managed to hold it together right up until I left, even though my visit re-opened a lot of old family wounds. I lost it two days after I got back. Despite a backlog of commissions and growing pressure to prepare for exhibitions next year, I couldn't face painting. I couldn't face anything. I took my phone off the hook and burrowed deep into my bed, where I sobbed myself to sleep. Every night.Awake, I castigated my boyfriend – and anybody else foolhardy enough to enquire about my well-being – for not 'getting' my intricate, self-immolating catalogue of personal failures. My studio staff went into siege mode, cancelling appointments and putting off visits from possible buyers. My boyfriend fled to another country but stayed in touch daily, by Skype. Mostly, he remained stoic as I launched into tirades about how everything I was going through was, somehow, his fault. This morning, I regained my sanity. I got out of bed and showered for the first time in a week. I tidied my house and my studio. As if on cue, my long-suffering boyfriend turned up on my doorstep. I did whatever any girl who has acted like an irrational, ungrateful, self-flagellating harpie would do: I dragged him back to the bed in which I'd entombed myself for the past week and fucked him hard for hours until we'd wrung every ounce of anguish and doubt from our weary hearts and flesh.
Posts
6 comments:
Ok, not that it is any of my business but I would suggest a couple quick bottles of Gatorade to refuel and hit the sack for rounds 2, 3, 4...! Nothing that a great romp won't ever help you get over if even temporarily IMHO. Skyrocketing seritonin levels and only delicious side effects.(And no you really don't have to post this, just what I would be doing though.) WINK!
Your honesty is truly refreshing :)
We can escape our problems using various methods, sex is one of them but its only temporary relief not a solution. Hope you feel better anyway.
Jesus, Anonymous: sanctimonious, a little?
b-rood, the last time i fucked for hours at a beach house one weekend, i got pregnant, broke up with my lover, had an abortion and was unhappy for a very long time.
My father died of cancer about ten years ago. Thankfully, his illness -- the part of that journey filled with awareness of the disease -- was not very long, compared to some. It left me empty, shattered as old family wounds were opened, probed, and examined all too closely. However, when I look back on it all, some of my happiest memories of my father came out of that time. I know you are not asking for advice, but I will say this: if you can, take this opportunity to make peace with your family (if only briefly.) Your mind and soul will thank you later. I wish you courage.
Post a Comment