Running Scared

Hell week continues, makes me think of try outs, pledging, things synonymous with the term “Hell week.”  My hell week consists of something different, back to back biofilms from 8 am to 10:30 pm with 2 hour dinner breaks wedged in between, means more driving back and forth, but worth it to see my son, so hard to leave him again.  I started to cry in the bathroom today, probably overtired, a lot having to do with worries about money, bankruptcy, and failures.  I was doing my best not to panic, but it sets in now.  I guess I kept foolish hope for miraculous help, child support payments finally debiting or something along those lines – been offered help, but I don’t think I’ll take that.  I don’t need strings between us, strings tie together, but they also have a way of tearing things apart when you pull.  It’s not so cute as when my son tugs the blanket off the couch and says “pull.”  Now I’m singing instead my headspace.  “There ain’t no strings on me.  There may be strings on some of you folks, but there ain’t no strings on me.”  I am relatively sure that those are lyrics to some song I can’t really remember.  I’m not sure if it’s some of my crazier music or a kid’s song.  How can that be?  I am actually at a point where I can’t decipher metal from children’s music…so much noise in my life, walking around helmet head, ears encased in red plastic earphone so much like firing range ear muffs, resounding the gut shot in this painful life of mine.

I feel broken and bone tired, bone driven.  Greedy Fly made its way into my car CD player today, high school snowboard memory ablaze even when the snow piles wane in this warm February climate…unusual.  I think I am either expending a ridiculous amount of energy or I am devouring to comfort myself or perhaps I think it’s funny to jam a lot into my mouth while sitting at my lab desk where food is banned.  It’s difficult to justify 2 granola bars, crackers, and a fruit strip as a simple snack.  I didn’t have a big lunch, so perhaps it’s okay; I might as well enjoy the food while I can.  It will be more difficult to enjoy later when I have to pick and choose based on a strict budget when there’s no money there.  There was such youthful hope once, boarding with the Sheez, fantasizing about what my life would be someday.  Now that’s all gone – the hope, the pretense.  What if I had been bolder in my pursuits?  Would that change the course of my life? 

The weather teases of Spring and I feel like I need to put on the New Balances and start running, but if I do, I might run like Hell and I there’s no guarantee I’ll be coming back.  Why am I reading Updike right now?  Am I really that stupid?  I wish I was like Rabbit and others would pay for me, not the other way around.  Unfortunately, I know just what end of the stick I’m holding – it’s the warm and gooey end.