When I was 7, or 8 maybe, they canceled school as they did for my kids today. Now, it wasn’t for the snow, I lived in the high desert of the Mojave and it did indeed snow there from time to time, no, this day they canceled school because it was simply too damn hot. I couldn’t give you the numbers, I was a kid and I didn’t pay attention to that. What I do remember is the reason my mother said I couldn’t go outside.
The asphalt was melting see.
They thought of the street turning into so wave of blackness to swallow me whole terrified me beyond rational thought and I spent this day where the temperatures had to be in the upper limits of human endurance hiding in my closet so I wouldn’t get swallowed by the street.
Yeah, I was a troubled child.
I would have panic attacks like this more often as we lived in Lancaster longer and longer. Earthquakes, melting asphalt, my mother getting out of her room for the first time in a week, CPS, school, and on and on.
A totally irrational fear of things that were above and beyond any sphere of control I was aware of. School never did it to me, personal interactions, meetings, but when it came to things I couldn’t micromanage, that is when I would collapse into the little closet that I spent so much time in that I had a blanket, a lamp and the books that kept me sane by taking me far away from scary things like the San Andreas fault line and 125 degrees in the shade.
I may not have a closet anymore, but I still have the panic attacks, I just got better books and sweet air conditioning.
© 2020, TheJameyBear. All rights reserved.
I am JameyBear. Liberal. Hippie. Dad. Widower. Poet. Author. Sarcastic Ass. Friend. Lover. Hater.
I have lied and cheated, stolen and done violence in word and deed.
I have given the shirt off my back and they wanted the skin underneath instead.
I am a notorious soft touch, wearing my heart on my sleeve and wanting to make everyone happy.
I tip too much, too often, too many places, and it is has burned me even as recent as this week.
I love everyone I have ever hated still. I will always love the memory of being in love with them.
I want to be your friend. No. I want you to want me to be your friend.
I am clingy and needy, dependent and hopelessly lost in times that I will never live in.
I use language that was archaic when archaic was a new word in the early 19th century.
I want to record myself reading everything so people won’t forget me when I disappear.
I talk too much, listen too deeply, process too quickly and infer way too much.
My beard is also better than yours