Brain freeze, brain thaw
Snap out of a sweet dream about setting someone's house on fire. Smash the phone till the Cosmic song stops. Stumble into the kitchen, make coffee, drink coffee, and slowly start to wake up. Double check that you're wearing pants. Good. Go downtown. Cross the river. Hike up Frontside, Lil Rattler, and Pano. Pause to appreciate the scenery.
The sunrise behind me is lighting up the peaks across the valley. That's Ouray (13,971 feet), Chipeta (13,472 feet), and Pahlone (12,615 feet) to the left. Shavano (14,230 feet) is visible on the right. The photo above also shows the 14ers Tabeguache, Antero, and Princeton, all of them quite friendly fellows except for when they occasionally try to kill you.
I never really know what to say when I walk into my therapist's office. It's not for lack of thinking ahead on my part. And it's not for lack of providing a comfortable environment and a kind, approachable persona on her part. She's wonderful, and her workspace is one of the most calming ones I've ever encountered. My brain just gets stuck sometimes. Kind of like it does every time I lock eyes with that girl I like. Emergency shutdown. This is no time for conversation, we've got an active threat on our hands. Shields are up.
But already I'm getting sidetracked. That's an entirely different matter; please don't tell Jamie I've got a crush on her. The point I'm trying to make is, I never seem to know what I want to say on my way to therapy. I just know that I want to go to therapy. So I get out of my car, walk down the gravel driveway, knock on the glass sliding door, step inside, and sit down.
And then, after a few minutes pass by and my nerves calm down, something funny happens: My mind suddenly opens up, and before I know it I've spent an entire hour talking almost nonstop, hopping from topic to unrelated topic and changing subjects so fast it doesn't even make sense.
Overcast sky, empty parking lot, stoic streetlight, and a rainbow that looks like it's barely hanging onto life. It's all so perfectly depressing that it makes me smile. I already know I'm going to hell, no need to tell me.
Anxiety. Depression. The thing in my head. It's going to win. No it's not. You've got to kill you, if you want to kill me. Music. Mountains. Have you ever been to Music Pass? You used to be able to drive all the way up there but you can't anymore, it's closed. I guess the mountains are my gods now. Religion. Psychosis, suicide, et cetera. They should start teaching Latin in schools again. No, that would never work, there are too many idiots these days. Social media has collectively dumbed us all down to the point that I think we're a lot closer to Idiocracy than most people realize. Leadville. Winters that last for eight months. Cabin fever. My brother's getting married next month. He literally designed and machined his fiancée's ring. I have a hard time just trying to thread a needle let alone machine a fucking ring. Shaky hands, DTs, that weird sense of impending death. I can't think of anything worse, anything more completely evil in the entire universe, than the concept of God. God is the purest form of evil I can think of. Let me tell you about the three different books I'm currently halfway through. Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo (he was from Colorado, did you know that? Yep. Montrose), The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro, and I Won't Be Coming Into Work Today Because You're All Dickheads: A Guide to Office Survival by David Thorne. To be honest, I've been putting off Johnny Got His Gun because it's so bloody tough to read. I like that plant, what kind is it? Flowers. My mom used to collect hibiscus plants and mowing the lawn took forever because you had to work your way around all these fucking flowers growing everywhere. She loves me, she loves me not. Work is going fine but have I told you about growing up in the jungle yet? I had a pet monkey once but it died and I had to bury it in the backyard.
6:30am. Time to walk to work. Sky pretty, me like. I wonder if I'll lose my shit on any idiot customers today.
6:30pm. Great. Another successful day of not getting fired for losing my shit on any idiot customers. Sky pretty, me like. Time to walk back home.
I know that last big block of text was mostly just mad rambling, and anyone who took the time to suffer through it deserves a pat on the back. It's all very therapeutic for me, though, and it's much better than letting the gears in my head stay seized up forever. And I'm not gonna lie—it's kinda funny watching my therapist scramble to take down notes while my thoughts are redlining like that. Bless her heart.
I feel good.
Maybe I'll go for a walk.
It's freezing. Sleet is falling, and everything's cold and wet. I think I'm going hypothermic. What a splendid evening! How come I'm the only one out here enjoying it?
Would they even count as mountains if they didn't occasionally try to kill you?
Metallica made me read Johnny Got His Gun, good book for reminding you that dying isn't always the worst that could happen.
Now if you could kindly keep that snow/sleet whatever on your side of the front range, I'd be much obliged.
Probably not, no. It's part of their intrigue, I think. Princeton actually has a plaque near the top in memory of someone who it decided to smite with lightning.
We'll keep the bad weather over here on our side. You're welcome.
Or maybe it's their form of self defense against idiots. The mountains where I grew up are quite a bit shorter and less overtly hostile but they still manage to get themselves a tourist or two every year. A ranger at RMNP was telling me how they used to keep a running tally at the trailhead for Longs Peak of how many people had died on the mountain. Said they eventually stopped because it got too morbid.
Well, it's not just idiots they take. They kill plenty of highly experienced climbers too. All you have to do is make one mistake, or simply happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
True, sometimes it just ain't your day. I've been in Red River Gorge too much lately, it's mostly intoxicated foolishness there.
not forgetting pants is a good thing, the views you shared so beautiful and warm
Sharign your thoughts about the visit to the therapist and anxiety gave me a perspective into that which I had no idea so thanks for sharing that with us
Thanks for joining the Wednesday Walk :)
Sure thing! Thanks for stopping by. See you next Wednesday, probably :)
I did that once. No, I pat my own back all time. That.
14 sessions I think is what my insurance covered. Went 2x/week. It was a long time ago. By the last session I knew all about dudes marriage problems, cheating wife and how the kids were split on who to stay with, dividing assets and mediations, et cetera—14 weeks.
Guess he needed someone to talk to.
I suppose therapists need therapists, too. How much did you charge him?
Floodgates are fun when they open up. All that rippling water and the rush of the current. Way better than dams in my opinion. All your skies are beautiful, whether coral colored or cold.
There's beauty in the chaos of unbridled free association. I know it has its criticisms in psychotherapy circles, but it seems to work well for me.
My skies are about to get really, really cold and snowy. Please send sunshine.
I think things get untangled well, at least sometimes, with free association. I thought of it tonight while looking at my dining room. I hung up ancestral pictures in maybe not the most attractive way, and put them next to a clock. In retrospect that symbol is obvious. At the moment I was just doing. It took rambling thoughts to point it out.
I say this like all our actions are so meaningful, while I look at my stupidly blinking Christmas tree. The children were about to break the attic door down if we didn't go ahead and decorate. And you know what the stupidest invention, which I blame us Americans on, is? The pre-lit Christmas tree. Christmas lights are such reliable inventions - they never fail - why not sear them to the tree? Billiant. The middle of the tree failed, and so I threw the only lights I had on hand in the middle of it - hyperactive hysterical blinking lights that quite literally blink every second. I feel like they are trying to be in sync with my heart, and that it going to cause an arrythmia. Anyway...clearly not all our actions are worthy of thought, which was the point of this long paragraph.
Apparently we are doing this El Nino thing...so I have limited sun to spare. You don't need my sun anyway - I believe those cold mountains speak to you.
My solution to problems with Christmas trees is to just never have a Christmas tree. I do keep string lights in my room 24/7/365, though. I'm not sure if this is meaningful in any way.
You know if you look at it with your head turned sideways, the positive space in between is the shape of a Christmas tree. So you have a Christmas tree year-round. I had no idea you were the sort to be so deep in the Christmas spirit ;)
Bollocks, you're right! All this time I thought I hated Christmas, but maybe I'm not a scrooge after all.
My back loves a pat.
There are always those who seem to be super organised or on it with shit. Designing rings indeed. Lovely thought, I would never have the time!
That my kind of dreaming :OD
I actually did have that dream. No creative liberties there :) Sadly, I couldn't recall whose house it was I burned down. I'm sure they deserved it though.
They are always deserving I find. Not the most pleasant of dreams but that is a marker of decency! Now if you thought it was a wheeze then that would be more worrying!
Oh, but I do think it's a good wheeze. Cheers mate, I'm off to go torch a church.
Someone once said Churches are fair game and I found it hard to disagree!
That's totally something a member of the Satanic Cat Society since 1932 would say.
It's not all cats 😀😀😀
Oh, so you really ARE going to hell. Hey, while you're down there... 🐐
p.s. thanks for sharing the raw vulnerability.
YOU'RE WELCOME. IT WAS MY PLEASURE.
I'm sorry, could you repeat that, hellboy? I didn't hear you. Speak up.
If heaven is full of diehard jesus freaks and rapey priests, I'd just as soon go to hell. 🐑 Can you go to hell for italicizing a sheep? I mean, if you're not Roman Catholic?
PROBABLY. I WILL ASK ABOUT IT AND GET BACK TO YOU.