I know it’s probably a common feeling for people to feel they aren’t connecting with anyone when they basically don’t know anyone in a new town.
Without Jack here, it feels like no one “gets” me. It feels like no one hears me or understands what I’m really saying.
It’s a lonely, disorienting feeling.
That new-girl-in-town feeling is glommed on top of a couple years of the stress of taking care of Jack, then him dying in May and finally my uncle dying a few weeks ago.
I know I won’t always feel like this.
All things pass.
For the first time in over ten years, I wanted to just sleep and sleep today. I didn’t want to be me. I didn’t want to feel sad anymore.
When I ignore my sadness and refuse to cry (because I’m so darn sick of it), my body/mind will wake me at 3 in the morning.
So I woke at 3 in the morning.
I still wouldn’t cry.
I ate a buttered, toasted Bays English Muffin with a Coke, finished a book on John of God, and started a memoir by P.D. James. (The latter quite good.)
I went back to sleep at 7 a.m.
I didn’t want to get up at 11, but the room was drenched in sunlight.
I didn’t want to do trauma releasing exercises.
I didn’t want to listen to the usual songs that elicit tears, even though I knew it would make me feel better.
I sat on the couch and drank two bottles of water, plugged in my earbuds and checked what playlists Apple had for me today. (I signed up for the free 3-month trial.)
The 70’s playlist had a song I never heard of by an artist I never heard of. The singer/songwriter was Judee Sill.
She has the voice of an angel. The harmony in her music is out of this world, the lyrics and melodies incredible.
I checked out the original album. Eponymously titled, it was from 1971. How did I never hear of her? I was 14 and 15 years old that year. All I did was listen to music.
Her big influences were Bach, gospel and country.
She signed with David Geffen, was critically acclaimed, opened for legendary rock groups, but never became a big name herself–even though the legends she opened for recognized she was way ahead of everyone else in terms of her songwriting.
Her second album came out in 1972 and there wasn’t another.
She had a terrible childhood and eventually became addicted to drugs, having to resort to prostitution in the end to feed her habit. She died of an overdose in 1979. She’d been forgotten by then.
I couldn’t get enough of her today.
Music can make me feel connected to myself and then I feel grounded and somehow recognized. I need to remember that.
Check out the fabulous artist, Judee Sill.
Eventually I flipped through other playlists. Guess which was the song that did the trick, got me crying even though I didn’t want to?
Mel Torme’s “That’s All”.
Ach! I’m such a romantic.
Anyway, I sobbed and sobbed and felt better. I didn’t feel as tired. I took my shower and did some errands, made a couple phone calls and scheduled my first yoga class for tomorrow.
Ode to the Cotton Bug VI
Oh Cotton Bug, Oh Cotton Bug,
Remember when we watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians together?
Or I imagined us watching it together anyway,
you in your glass bubble
me on the couch in my human container.
I think you’re the only one I’ve connected with out here,
besides my uncle.
That doesn’t mean I want you back.
You go your way and I’ll go mine.
That’s the way it’s got to be.
Still…I’ll never forget you, Cotton Bug.