My Intrusive Thoughts.

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Yesterday was a stressful fuck. First a dental cleaning – not a big deal in the scheme of things but I hate it none the less. After the cleaning, I was told that I needed a crown.

Three hours later I am having my right tit smushed in between two plates. Apparently, the mammogram I had the week prior has a spot they wanted to revisit.

So 3 more squishes then I am sent off to the ultrasound tech – 10 minutes of imaging the ill offending tit – then 20 minutes to see if the doc approves or needs more – another 10 minutes of goopy awkward massage – another 15 min wait then I am released.

Cancer, not cancer – nothing – something. Don’t know yet. But the intrusive thoughts are all over me today.

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Yep, 45 is a nice age to die at. I can still say the majority of my life was fun and interesting. I am not 99 lying in a bug-infested urine caked bed – alone – waiting to die.

He is miserable – he would be better off. He doesn’t need me. He has a better time when I am away.
I would be doing him a favor – he could go be with someone or someones that make him happy. I don’t.

Life is unfair and you didn’t win the lotto but you know a good thing and you know when that good thing is over.

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This is the kind of fucked up shit that ebbs and flows in my brain. All day every day. Sometimes I am able to shush them. I am able to count to 4 all day and drown out the noise. The thoughts. There are some that have clever names for their thoughts. You’ve seen the movies — the one who is only there for the anti-hero to see.

Mr. Brooks had Marshall
Elwood had Harvey
Dexter has his Dark Passenger
and of course, Dr. Jekyl had Mr. Hyde

*for another post – HOLLYWOOD: why do men with these problems get made into quaint men that you can have a drink or a laugh with – where are the women??

I have no cutesy name for my thoughts. I don’t see a person in a rearview mirror talking me into a bad decision or out of a good one. I am not sure if I should make an effort to see these thoughts as someone else. A bully, a fucking bully with the key to my brain.

Moments when I embrace the thoughts – then discard them because they are shitty ideas I feel powerful.
Moments when the best I can do is to continually count to 4 to talk OVER that shit well – those moments are just my life.
Moments when I sit and nod and think yeah it is time. I’ve caused enough pain to people I love and myself. I need to go … that is when I should write.