Abuse and Neglect

I’ve been neglectful. I’ve also been sore. Manhattan has been sore. Manhattan has also been attentive.

Last night in my attempt to busy myself with nothingness, I worked on the computer. Manhattan, in her attempt to obtain my affections, sat by my computer, rested her paws on the keyboard, and every chance she got, crawled into my lap. Every chance I got, I moved her paws and gingerly placed her on the floor. In my attempt to satiate my emptiness, I made a frozen dinner lasagna and sat on the couch to eat it. Manhattan, in her attempt to obtain my affections, refrained from trying to eat it and instead threw herself against my side and curled up against me. In my attempt to fulfill my sense of failure, I got up to run errands. Manhattan, in her attempt to express her frustration, gave me a pained look. It said, “I can’t believe you are leaving me. I love you.”

Hi. My name is Jess and I am a bad mom.
(resoundingly) Hi Jess!

I realized that someone who loved me was making every attempt to be a good little girl. Despite the fact that I had her declawed and spayed. And made her spend an entire day in her carrier, on a plane, against her will. The day after she came home. Manhattan was there, desperately trying to get me to realize that she was making every effort to be as close to me as possible. And I was running away. To things I had to do. Eventually. But did I have to get up and run out into the world that had no desire to curl up next to me? It’s crazy to have something that depends on you for everything and loves you and takes care of you more than she does herself. She makes herself crazy with her love for me. I do too. But it scares me and so I run. Almost two weeks ago now, I asked if we ever stopped (for all intensive purposes) running. Cause I was sick of the idea that I’d be running or turning or spinning or leaving again. And yet I was doing it last night.

Sometimes it is hard to tell if the world is doing the spinning or if you are. And it’s even worse when you don’t know what you should do and when to let go. What are we holding on to? Sometimes it’s my stomach. (I get kinda sick on wheels) Sometimes it’s my head. (I might lose my brain cells) Sometimes it’s my heart. (Cause it likes to run off) Sometimes it’s my breast. (Yep. That’s what hurts) Sometimes it’s my thoughts. (There’s a reason I self-monitor, people!) Sometimes it’s the ground. (I need to be on it) And sometimes it’s the air. (I shouldn’t be gripping to anything)

We’ve got good stuff people. We’ve also got good people. They are good to hold on to when you’re feeling a little dizzy. It’s even good when you’re both a little dizzy. Or drunk. Walking back from the Greenleafe one sunday night. Four legs, no matter how wobbly they are, must be better than two. I have six. That’s gotta be good.