Inside
Sometimes the biggest catastrophes begin with smallest provocations.
Like a phone call.
**
In between errands, the house line rings and I expect it to be telemarketers. Those people never know when to give up. Whether it’s Jesus or Jehovah, they’re always pushing something on unsuspecting victims.
It’s someone whose name I don’t recognize. He says that we met before and I begin to remember. Without wasting time, he tells me his reason for calling. It goes from bad to worse.
Shortly before hanging up, my body begins to feel the ramifications of the call.
When I put down the receiver in the cradle, I begin to feel sick. Nauseous. My head is both light and heavy. It’s spinning. Shoulders rise up towards my neck, and the muscles tense up.
Nerves are on high alert. My body is tense. Muscles tense and release, tense and release, each time quicker than the last. Over and over again. My heart beats erratically. I can’t breathe.
When I sit, my insides begin to rumble.
It’s like acid is running through my system, eating me up inside. There should be a hole where my stomach is. I can feel parts of me disintegrating into mush. The mush wants to push its way out, but I don’t vomit because it’s too messy and the last thing I want to do is grab a bucket of warm water, throw in some Lysol, find a cloth, get on my hands and knees and wipe down the formerly spotless floors.
The feelings of anger and frustration begin to form in my mind. I want to scream, let off steam. I want to yell. I’m so fucking angry. Pissed. How dare he say that to me? The nerve. The meaningless tone of voice. The nonchalance of it all. I want to swing my arms around and punch a hole in the wall.
That doesn't happen.
I remain sitting, with my legs up to my chin, holding them with my arms, my chin resting in between the crook of my knees. My body trembles and I can't feel my arms. If it wasn't for the fury, I'd think I was having a small stroke. I’m tense. Very tense. My body spasms continue. It’s almost volcanic. It wants to rupture. Bubbling. Bubbling closer to the surface. It’s on the verge of exploding.
But, I don't want anyone to know that I feel this way because of this fucking phone call. At least, not for the time being. So, I'll be keeping it all inside.
Update: The rage continues. Must find a wall to punch.
Like a phone call.
**
In between errands, the house line rings and I expect it to be telemarketers. Those people never know when to give up. Whether it’s Jesus or Jehovah, they’re always pushing something on unsuspecting victims.
It’s someone whose name I don’t recognize. He says that we met before and I begin to remember. Without wasting time, he tells me his reason for calling. It goes from bad to worse.
Shortly before hanging up, my body begins to feel the ramifications of the call.
When I put down the receiver in the cradle, I begin to feel sick. Nauseous. My head is both light and heavy. It’s spinning. Shoulders rise up towards my neck, and the muscles tense up.
Nerves are on high alert. My body is tense. Muscles tense and release, tense and release, each time quicker than the last. Over and over again. My heart beats erratically. I can’t breathe.
When I sit, my insides begin to rumble.
It’s like acid is running through my system, eating me up inside. There should be a hole where my stomach is. I can feel parts of me disintegrating into mush. The mush wants to push its way out, but I don’t vomit because it’s too messy and the last thing I want to do is grab a bucket of warm water, throw in some Lysol, find a cloth, get on my hands and knees and wipe down the formerly spotless floors.
The feelings of anger and frustration begin to form in my mind. I want to scream, let off steam. I want to yell. I’m so fucking angry. Pissed. How dare he say that to me? The nerve. The meaningless tone of voice. The nonchalance of it all. I want to swing my arms around and punch a hole in the wall.
That doesn't happen.
I remain sitting, with my legs up to my chin, holding them with my arms, my chin resting in between the crook of my knees. My body trembles and I can't feel my arms. If it wasn't for the fury, I'd think I was having a small stroke. I’m tense. Very tense. My body spasms continue. It’s almost volcanic. It wants to rupture. Bubbling. Bubbling closer to the surface. It’s on the verge of exploding.
But, I don't want anyone to know that I feel this way because of this fucking phone call. At least, not for the time being. So, I'll be keeping it all inside.
Update: The rage continues. Must find a wall to punch.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
9 Comments:
Please find someone to talk to. You will eat yourself alive if you are describing your reaction accurately. Best wishes for a good resolution, my friend.
Was is George Bush that called? He called me one time and I had a similar feeling.
Hope it all works out!! ((hugs))
Don't hold it inside. Cry out loud.
Can you hear me now?
What did the person say?!
Don't get too worked up. Everything could be okay.
OK.
Given this post, and your comment over at my blog the other day, I have to say I'm a bit concerned.
Wait a minute... when did you receive this phone call?
It's a lot easier to wipe puke off the floor than to repair... Well, just resist the urge to punch concrete.
i got a phone call like that once and it was about this guy i slept with he told me he was hiv+ and he knew before we had sex except when i asked him before we had sex he said he was clean......LIAR!!!!! its all good now one year down the track im still negative but what a prick!
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