Crazies in Raleigh

I saw more than enough mental illness this morning.  I mean, it was in full bloom as I stood on Wilmington Street, in front of Café Wilmoore, waiting to meet my friend for coffee.  There was a quick drug exchange hand to hand. There was a yelling woman who sat on the ground saying she was tired.  I was a bit scared of her as she looked at me and said, “Don’t you dare look at me, sister, I’m f’in tired!”  She sucked deeply on a cigarette butt that had little or no tobacco left.  Smoking on a filter. I looked away.  Then, a man with terror in his eyes and very long dreadlocks, lit up a cigarette and came face to face with me and said, “They found my cousin last night. They found her body, but not her clothes. She was 26 and they found her in Wilson. She’s dead. Somebody killed her.  My relatives are coming from New York. I don’t believe in violence but well, they have to kill the guy who killed her.”  “Oh dear,” I said.  “I drank a bottle of vodka last night because you know, I was crying.  This is a crazy, crazy, angry world,” he said.  I looked at all the keloid scars on his chest that looked like old knife wounds, agreed with him about the crazy world and felt so sad.
The streets downtown, are full of crazies and I wonder why there is no place for them to go? Why is there not a place for help, for beauty, for state of the art help to nurture and help these folks back to life?  Why are the powers that be talking about making a big park on the old Dorothea Dix property?  It was once a psychiatric hospital and should be again.  One that is the envy of the entire country.  One that restores the sanity to the broken and lost.  One that hires all the smart and caring talent who can do just that.  How can we think of doing anything less? Where do I begin?  I know that the bureaucracy will drown me quickly, but don’t I have to at least try?  I’ll give it a try…..


I’m pissed this morning.
Irritated. Sad. Angry. Feeling used. Disappointed. Edgy. Anxious.
Chomping really hard on my all-natural mint gum from Vitamin Shoppe.
Drinking more coffee which I don’t usually do.
Too early for wine, which I don’t want anyway.
Sam and Will didn’t get out of bed on time.
Sam and Will didn’t go to bed on time last night.
Rushed around yelling at them because we had to pick up the sweet, carpool girl.
Though late, we drove to pick her up but she never came out of the house.
Her mom had texted me that she was driving her instead, but I never read the text.
I wondered, if she was driving, why she didn’t pick up my kids instead of the other way around.
As a result of going to get her, I had to drive on the road I hate.
I quit the carpool.
My kids can take the city bus from now on. $4 a day roundrip is better than $55 gas weekly and 10 hours driving a week.
I sent an email to the carpool moms and quit. That’s that.

Fell madly in love with a house this past Sunday.
An historical landmark.
A schoolhouse from 1912 with 12 foot ceilings,
Perfectly and creatively renovated.
You can see the pics.
It was a true work of art, done by an incredible artist.
It is almost indescribable, as I have never seen anything like it.
The colors. The layout. The floors. The storage. The history. The openness. Amazing, completely amazing, breathtaking for both of us AND the kids too.
Though it was a stretch for our budget, it was very underpriced for the area.
Went to see it twice and we HAD TO HAVE IT.
Plenty of space for us, for my clients, my office – ALL!
Were willing to do just about anything.
In 3 damned days on the market, 4 damned offers came in.
We came in third place!
What was the winning bid?
Should we have stretched further above the asking price?
I suppose we should have.
But just how much, and how?
This was truly a one of a kind place, never to be found again.
I am deeply disappointed. Heartbroken almost.
And yes, I know, I know, I know, this is only a house.
It is not illness or devastation, in any way.
I know that. I know the difference well.
But, still I feel like crap and too disappointed to even cry.
Feel gypped.
For a while I felt like I was not entitled to live in such a nice house.
Now I feel like I am, and should have been able to.
Not sure there is any point in even looking at other downtown houses.
I’ll just keep driving back and forth commuting downtown 6-7 days a week.
Eeeew, I hear a martyr.

We left last night to go to our fancy downtown church
For a very moving and helpful Lenten series, called Faith Matters.
Loved the movie. Loved the message. Loved the messenger, aka priest.
I no longer fret about how different I am from the others there.
It doesn’t matter really. What matters is feeding my soul.
I bravely wore my jeans, actually.
Came home to a trashed house, homework not done, tv on, texting galore, dog not walked,
All the “Yes ma’ams, will do” texted to me, were untrue.
Pissed. Yelling. Bad way to end the day and boys in bed way too late.

Cannot lose the 20 pounds I need to lose.
Cannot convince myself to walk each day.
Not sure why.
Makes me mad, ashamed and disappointed in myself.
Used to be easier. Yeah.

Business is down.
Not a good thing.
Where are the babies?
No consults this week.
Rental pumps pouring in
Instead of out.

Gotta get our house ready to sell.
Scared. Overwhelmed. Where to begin?
Not looking forward to this project.
Start this weekend?
Still want to move downtown?
Less sure.

Peter’s still so terribly ill.
I hate it.
I don’t know what to suggest anymore.
I really don’t.
It makes me feel awful,
But oh how aware I am,
Of how much worse it makes him feel!
If I forget, he reminds me.

Nick’s good. Oliver’s good, I think, but don’t know.
Twins are good. Shep is good. I am good.
So, why the kvetching?

Not sure, just am.