Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Weebles wobble...

...but they don't fall down. They have very, very heavy, round bottoms. And no matter which way you drop them, or from what height, they always work their way back upright.

We used to have a blue one. I wonder if Lil Bro remembers it?

Well anyway, that kinds of sums up how things have been lately. It's as though I'm pushing myself over as hard and as far as I can to see what will happen. What happened to our blue Weeble - eventually - was that its top half separated from its bottom half completely. Oh dear.

There are other, more obvious, similarities betwee that old blue Weeble and yours truly, but we'll gloss over those with some pineapple-flavoured paint. Or maybe not.

I don't remember if we ever tried the Weeble in the bath to see if it would float. The answer is probably not to both ideas. I'm not so much floating, as dragging huge lungfuls of air down to the bottom with me, and expelling them rocket-style to propel myself up to the top for another huge lungful. Swings and roundabouts it ain't. Sink or swim doesn't do it justice. The stupid thing is, the lifeline, the raft, the buoy - they're all at my fingertips. I don't even have to reach out to grab them, no effort is required, no tense dah-dah-duuuuuuuummm moment. Just if I want it, there it will be.

Sometimes the real effort is to just want it. To fight the urge to just roll back and let the tide do its worst. These are my demons, Lethargy, Apathy, and The Bitch and sometimes they talk so sweetly, offer so many enticements, they appeal to my very core.

Do I say something twee here, like "and then I look at the pictures on my desk of my two lovely men and..."? No. The truth is I can't - I won't - do it for them. I can only do it for me. Do it for someone else, and they become the weapon of my own destruction, the heavy, metal-studded club of a million guilts that will swing down and send me flying as I reach the liferaft .

The Bitch is back. She's been creeping in ever so, ever so quietly, silk-shod. Whispering about my failures, pointing at the work undone, telling me I'm not good enough for YM's new friends and their families. Laughing at me in my sleep, and dogging my days.

Well, I see you now, and the fight begins. Lethargy and Apathy can go hang.


  1. Wow! That brought back some, not-so-happy memories for me!
    My best friend's dad used to call me Weeble - for obvious reasons - a rather cruel joke from a not-so-nice man :/
    In the end, I took the joke, and wore it with pride, thus letting it back-fire on the giver - and then I could laugh genuinely at it {grin}

    Don't let The Bitch win, Hun - you know she's just an echo, and the lovely Real You is worth so much more than that!
    Hugs & love, Hun x x x x

  2. A few years back along with Liz Ayers three of us called ourselves Weebles...but with much shared laughter. Thanks for helping me remember. (They were happy times)Jx