XBrood Live: Grief, Loss & Ephelants
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Grief, Loss & Ephelants
note: ephelants pronounced ehf-eh-laants
I feel like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I’ve named him Charlie. Charlie sits right above my boobs and just under my throat. Feels like he’s cutting the circulation to my brain so I’ve been dizzy. Sometimes Charlie goes away and I feel really really good. I’m really happy when he’s gone. Of course Rigid seems to coax Charlie out more often than anyone in my entire life has. Charlie’s a bad bad ephalent. We don’t like Charlie. No… we don’t. Charlie makes me break things. Like nails and plates n stuff.
Last week after we came home from Knott’s with the kids Rigid and I fought yet again. My cats ran away, as most of you already know, and I was not a happy girl. I was upset, but I didn’t cry. That’s always a bad sign. When I don’t cry, but I didn’t want Rigid to tell me what a silly Poppet I was being and to stop crying so I kept it in. initially everything was fine, but he was being a little silly about my cats. Starting ranting and raving that the cats could stay out in the street for all he cares. They’re never coming back in, they’ll be infested with fleas or pregnant blah blah blah blah blah. Pepper those statements with a little bloody this and cunt that and fuck them and you’ve got Rigid down pat. Of course I told him off… my day would not be complete otherwise.
I can’t even remember the fight. We’ve had so many that I can’t remember them all anymore. And they’re all for various reasons. Not just one specific subject though they all have one thing in common. He doesn’t listen to me. And I’m tired of whining about how insensitive he is to me. So we’ve fought and fought and fought all week long and most of the weekend. And I’m pretty tired.
I can’t remember why we fought last week in the morning. But we were in the car and we were talking about something. It always starts out that way. (pause for the sarcastic look here you know… cause… we’re just talking) I know it was stupid whatever it was, but I was so angry I yelled at him. I believe that was the point where I’d gotten him fed up with telling him he should leave me. “Go back to England”, I said, “If it’s too hard just leave. I won’t hold it against you. I understand.” So he said fuck it then and pulled the car over and made as if he was going to get out. Well as he was on his way back and closing the door (‘cause he probably never intended on actually getting out.) my hand had already been reaching out to his shirt collar. I was going forward and he was going backward and I jammed my nail into the back of his neck. Bent my nail completely backwards and had to push it back down on the nail bed. I was in such shock that I yelled out in pain. After that he drove me to work and waited for me to stop crying apologizing all the way there. I knew something was wrong with me because when I reached out to grab his shirt I wanted to hurt him. I could see Charlie creeping through the bushes about to pounce on my head. Ephelants do that you know.
I remember now, we fought the night before about the cats again. I think it was Wednesday night and Salem was prowling around. I could hear her mewing for us so I called for her and she mewed back in response. I begged Rigid to go out and try to get her inside and he yelled at me and told me the cat could stay outside. At this point I don’t think I’d expressed my grief towards the loss of Morrigan and Salem. I did feel grief. A burning unacknowledged grief that I held inside in a tiny little box labeled kittums. Sealed with the knowledge that if my feelings remained in that little box no one would know the shame I feel at my unexplained emotions towards the loss of my cat. I only just got Salem a year ago but I’ve had Morrigan for 7 yrs at least. She was like an appendage. An extension of me.. my animal side. She was evil… but beautiful and gentle. I’d give anything to have either one of them back and I thought he understood this. How could he be so blind. Why would he shame me into acknowledging my love for my cats by making me fight with him? Why can’t he just be nice to me and tell me it’s going to be alright?
So as I beckoned for him to rush to Salem’s rescue he huffed and puffed with a “ Fucking cat can stay out there for all I care.” And “She’s flea ridden cunt” and probably something about dying in the street, maybe even getting hit by a car I can’t remember. I was crushed, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he said he’d already been out before didn’t matter. I could see her! She was right there! And he went begrudgingly complaining the entire time. I could hear him cursing outside still. Cursing as he tried to fetch the cat. How is that cat now going to come to him? So she ran again. I knew she’d run, but I had to try. When he came back inside he gave me some more of his honest opinions about the cat. I was sick of it. It’s not his fault the cats ran away. Morrigan is in heat and a week earlier Pumpo, his girlfriend and I had to come inside the house by way of the very window they escaped from. I know it wasn’t a great escape or anything either. I knew exactly what happened.
Morrigan was in heat and liked to roll up against the window. That cat went tumbling right out of the house as she rolled up against the screen. Obviously somebody didn’t put it back right. I’ve no idea who’s job it was. And after Morrigan stood stunned in the bush by the front door I’m sure Salem came and poked her head out. ‘Don’t worry sister Morrigan! I’ll save you!’ Plop right out the window. Who knows how many hours it had been since I got home. There were still around at the time too. They’ve never been far from the house before so they were afraid, but after getting chased around by Rigid… you can just imagine their terror.
So I’ve been a little sensitive. Holding in my emotions over a couple of cats that in my head I should not be that attached too. They’re just animals. But every time Rigid has an unkind word to say I take my claws out and I want to poke his eyeballs out! We made up of course and the next day I didn’t work so I lay around feeling sorry for myself and played Morrowind. Rigid came home early that day because it was raining and we spent the entire rainy afternoon together. He took me out to a nice Lunch/Dinner and we watched Lucky # Sliver after which we came home and jumped online to play Halo. As we were jumping online we heard the voicemail my friend left. Well from Rigid’s response it was obvious that he didn’t want to go. But I wasn’t even going to get into it with him.
I called my friend and made plans to go to the bar together with friends I haven’t seen for months. When I hung up the phone I heard him tell Viol8r that he’d be getting off soon to go to a bar with me. I don’t remember telling him his presence was required, but hell. I don’t mind. I like spending time with my husband. Again, we had a great time. I actually had no idea my friends were going to play that night either. They never told me… I could see Rigid was tired, but he seemed to really want to see New Maximum Donkey play so we stayed on until 11 pm even though my friends were done for the night. Well I didn’t complain, but later that night when we got into yet another fight we threw it all in my face.
I jumped ahead didn’t I? We left the bar after New Maximum Donkey and promised another friend that we’d catch his band play next time around, but that Rigid was working very early the next morning and is completely exhausted. I was tired too but the drive back home was pleasant as we reminisced about the night. As we got home I began to remember a dream I had about the cats. “Honey”, I said in a voice just as sweet, “ you won’t believe the dream I had.”
“Really, what Hooha?”, he said as he stuck the key in the top lock.
I began to tell him about the melancholy little dream I had about Morrigan. I was in a bed and although it was really bright in the bedroom I couldn’t see a thing. I was sleeping. While I slept I could feel the cats mulling about on the bed. I could feel the sun shining on my skin but it didn’t bother me. The next thing I knew I opened my eyes and there was Morrigan. Looking at me contemplatively and mowing, Salem not far behind her. I said, “Hi momma.” She replied with the traditional half meow half purr customarily given at those moments. I picked up the cover and said, “Okay then, get in.” She lay on my chest bundles up under the covers as she had for so many years before. That is until Rigid moved in. remember that my cat was as small as the palm of my hand and ever since slept on my chest for comfort, both on her behalf and mine.
When I cried or was in pain she was right there with me pawing at the tears on my face and cheek or nuzzling in my neck until I stopped making noise. She wasn’t playing or just interested. She knew I was hurting and she’d meow and meow until I stopped. Sometimes even getting between Pumpo and myself if she thought he was causing me pain. That dream made an impression on me. You know those dreams you hear about? The ones about the dead coming to visit the living just one last time? That’s the type of dream it was. Everything was all white. Like heaven. And she lay purring on my chest, this big fat cat purring and purring making my heart vibrate with joy and loss. “I though I lost you this time.” I said as I remembered the hospital incident. You know, the one when she was stuck in the oxygen tank due to gunshot wound? Yeah,…that one.
Though it’s taken nearly half a page to explain this dream to all of you it took me all of two seconds to tell Rigid so that by the time he was done fumbling with the lock and began to open the door I was already finished sharing my dream. He hadn’t even walked inside the house before he started drenching me with some more of his honesty. “Those fucking cunts can stay outside. They’ll be full of fleas noe. They won’t be coming into the fucking bedroom.” You want to know what I heard? ‘Those fucking cats can die for all I care. I don’t give a shit about you or your stupid dream. You’ll never see them again ‘cause I won’t do shit to try and find them and I could care less if you need comforting. Kiss my ass.”
So I shook my head, because the other voices in my head said I only just imagined it, and asked him to please not be so mean to me. Please try and be nice to me. At this point I don’t know how to convey my feelings to him anymore. He replied that he’s not being mean, just honest. HONEST! He honestly believes the cats will be full of fleas and they’ll honestly infest the house with their filth. That he honestly will not let them into the bedroom because they’ll honestly piss all over the FUCKING floor!
Let’s take a trip inside my head so that we may witness the ties rushing in to kill several thousand Cambodians, mountains crumbling before your feet and a complete worldwide Internet crash all at once. Yes my friends this is what goes on in my head and I attack with just as much force so I dug in to the onslaught that I knew was coming, but somehow I held myself together. I fought and I fought, but I eventually gave up. I walked away and left him in the bedroom. I sat in the living room in half darkness eating my fist, but doing nothing. He came in not too long after and apologized for hurting my feelings and being inconsiderate to my needs. This is the point where I should have taken my fist out of my mouth and accepted his apology, but something inside me didn’t let me. Charlie was pounding on my head, neck and shoulders. Plopping up and down on my chest and It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault he was seeping through so I didn’t accept his apology. Instead I hit him with another borage of awful words and he walked away back into the bedroom in silence. As he lay there in bed I sat there boiling in my own juices and I shoved the coffee table with my feet so hard it flew at the TV and everything right off it.
That didn’t do anything for me so I grabbed an Indonesian vase and thew it hard somewhere, anywhere. I was sure I broke it’s last brass handle. Rigid came flying out of the room to see what I’d broken and as he walked past me I kicked the cat bowls at his feet… including a purse. Nothing was satisfying me. I’m sure I heard him say, “Why are you so immature?” because the next thing I knew the entire works of Shakespeare where hurling through the air at him. If I had actually ment to hit him I would have broken his nose, but I didn’t and so my most beloved book sat there pages rumpled on the floor. My heart hurt at this site, but I kept on undeterred by the great work of art that lay there and continued to back Rigid into the bedroom. We stood at the threshold and I continued to verbally beat him with every word at my disposal about the head and neck mercilessly. Nothing he said could make more sense than I … even if it did and some of it actually did. No matter how much I ranted and raved I still didn’t feel better so I slammed my fist into the wall probably to make a point. Who knows? This is normally the point where Rigid steps in with all his manliness to stop me from hurting myself, but I smashed my fist again and he did nothing remembering what happened the last time he tried no doubt.
I continued to yell but I still felt nothing so I smashed my fist into the frame which held a bloated picture of my face the kind you make when you have a new picture program you play with to create hours of endless bloated head fun. The frame though wasn’t plastic as I had originally thought and so when Rigid came at me grabbed my fisted hand and shoved me back with his other hand wrapped around my bicep I realized that the reason he reacted was because it was glass and he was afraid I’d cut myself. In the fraction of a second that it took for him to grab me, for me to come to that realization and the two of us to take a step in the same direction the piece glass he was destined to step on had already hit the floor. I blinked and the next thing I know he’s hopping around like mad on one foot arms waiving about in the air cursing. It all happened so fast my arm was still in the air. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I wanted to rush to him, tell him I was sorry and to please forgive me but the other part of me… the “Charlie” part of me laughed inside. I wanted him to hurt and I was glad he did.
Boy if that isn’t demented I don’t know what is. We made up of course and there’s also a big hole in my wall behind the bedroom door, but hell I spent the entire next day playing Morrowind…
Posted by Maharet at 10:35 AM