Friday, March 30, 2012


 OK, this is just a rambling, somewhat incoherent stream of consciousness that is probably not worth reading.  I'm not going to re-read it tonight anyway.  But it's what I've got.  It's probably whiny.  I won't feel bad if you don't read it.

I just finished reading The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay (by Suzanne Collins) for the second time.  I didn't get enough sleep last night and spent a lot of time crying today, mirror neurons in overdrive, mourning the corruption of perfect love in one character.  I felt so stupid for being so affected by a person, a character, that's not even real.  But I was also crying for other reasons, I think.

"Who am I?" is what kept coming up.  The main character had her own mental breakdowns in the series and would return to a technique she was taught where she started at the beginning and recited the facts of who she was.  If I did it, it might run something like:  My name is Julia K. Burzon.  I am 40 years old.  I grew up in Newark, DE.  My mother is dead.  My father lives in PA.  My sister lives in MD.  My favorite place is in the Poconos.  My real home has been sold.  I used to spend summers at a pond in the Poconos and camping in South Sterling, PA.  I love nature because of that.  I went to school.  PreK, public K and grade school, private middle and Catholic high school, BS at University of DE, MS at Iowa State.  It took 6 years with my husband before we were engaged.  I married in 2000.  I worked in natural resources management for 3 years.  I had a daughter in 2003.  I had postpartum depression then and after my son was born in 2008.  I am home with them. 

mmm....seems too long.  Of course her list was shorter because she was only 17 I suppose.  I always get stuck between my child life and adult life, like my adult life belonged to someone else, or was a movie I watched.  I don't think anything after high school has really been incorporated into who I feel I am sometimes or that there's a disconnect pre-husband as boyfriend, beginning my life with him, and post.  Graduate school seems a million miles away.

Who am I?  I know my first answer should be a mother and then a wife, but I don't feel like that's really who I am inside a lot of the time.  Maybe just particularly these past two weeks, during which I have been completely absorbed in the world of Panem.  I read the trilogy twice in two weeks and have been just really intense about it.  I want to take a week and live in the woods and sleep in trees and not speak to or see a living soul.  Either that or take a whole bunch of adivan and not be me for as long as sI can.  get back to needing to be taken care of.  I despair that in any real survival situation I'd be dead right off, without a supply of Welbutrin and Cymbalta.  I'd probably get so depressed I'd do something stupid.  In any case I'd end up curled in a ball crying somewhere.  Maybe though, I think, maybe I'd power through it.  I have run a marathon after all, I at least at one time had some dtermination, discipline, and persistence.  Where did it all go?  Who am I?  I feel so lost.

My name is Julia K. Burzon.  I am 40 years old.  I have 2 children.  I am married.  I survive from day to day.I can draw, play the piano decently and the flute poorly.  People have called me an artist.  I have brown eyes.  I have always wished they were any other color.  My hair is OK.  Brown.  Curly.  I used to run, but I damaged my knees.  I can't stand to be in my house in the afternoon and often stay out with the kids until my husband comes home.  He loves me pretty unconditionally.  I am selfish.  I don't like to share food, even with my kids (although I do).  I like to teach others about nature.  I like to lie in the sun and watch clouds or tree leaves.  I've been told that I can actually be fun when I'm drunk.  I only get drunk once a year or so and am always horribly sick afterwards.  I have a dog.  He is going to die soon.  He is 15.  I never feel safe.  I just want to be safe.

Safe from what?  Failure?  Growing up?  Death?
The last one is ironic considering my internal dialog that has rote, pat comments that emerge whenever I am freaking out about something or very depressed.

Oh, and I am overly competitive.  I compete with my friends and every person I meet in pretty much all categories.  I am constantly measuring to see if I am OK.  I never got over not getting report cards anymore.  I never know now if I'm doing OK or not.  I was a good student.  That was the thing I was best at really.  I am a fast reader and overly verbose writer.

I like glazed donuts.

This is so random.  I ought to just get some sleep.  My husband, who is snoring next to me, says tomorrow will be better.  I hope so, because I was so strung-up today that when the colander fell on my head (off a shelf) while making dinner I yelled out and hid myself in the powder room to let the crying jag out and not concern my kids.  I'd already cried enough in front of them in the car today.  We spent the afternoon at a playground and I was upset from reading Mockingjay and not knowing who I am.  I drove out to a drive-thru Starbucks so I had about an hour round-trip to drive and decompress.  Driving calms me.  Usually.

I need to sleep.  Tomorrow (today) is Friday, thank God.  Oh, and I don't believe in God.  Which sucks, because he was the best imaginary friend that I ever had.  I miss feeling like I could make some kind of offering and please someone who could help me with all things, who was always there for me to talk to and lean on.I feel so disconnected from everything right now.  I think it's because of all the immersion in the trilogy.  If so, this should improve.  I'm not going to read them again for a long time.  I'll probably read this tomorrow and be shaking my head.  Maybe I won't even agree with some things.  But this has been how I felt right now, tonight.

I see the hands that I examined in Chemistry class during sophomore year of high school, only the texture of the skin looks like my mother's hands' skin.  Half my life is over now.  And yet I have no major medical issues other than the depression.  I need to lose weight, but that's it.  I should be so grateful and be living life...oh, I know all the things I should be doing.  So many things.  things to take care of myself, my home, my family.  I don't do most of them.  There must have beena time when i did though.

I am tired.  this all probably makes no sense.  It's mostly for me anyway. Boy would I like to take a handful of adivan right now and be unconscious for an unpredictably long period.  Of course I can't.  My daughter has school tomorrow and I am caring for my son all day.

Who am I?  I am Julie.  I want to be safe.  No, I want to feel safe.  Just for a little while.  Just enough to sleep and escape being me.

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