Wednesday, October 7, 2009

KNOWING RAVIS


I don't need people.
I've never needed them. I have to live on this planet with people, so I do. And I interact with them. I smile. I laugh. I mock. I chat. I stare. I respond. But need? Of course not. I don't need people.

But Rabid isn't a people. And I needed her today.

Did I know I needed her? Nope. Hadn't a clue.

It was a bad day. It's been a series of bad days. They come. They are. They're a part of life. And they're where I've been.

While doing my day, I called The Husband and confessed to him the Hell I was stuck in. Poor man. Husbands have a hard go of it--listening to the prattle of their wives while they react to the advances of that sonofabitch named Depression. I told the mister that a single bright spot in my life is anticipating a visit from my Rabid friend in a month. I very much look forward to it. I finished my bitching and we hung up.

A few hours later, as I was muddling through the Valley of the Shadow of Me, my phone received an email. In the email was a song. The song was a gift. It was from my Rabid friend. It was a Brandi Carlile song. That dame has a voice for the ages. My phone also received a voice message. It too was from the Rabid friend.

It was a friendly message. It was my first phone contact from this pal. Until now we've only done Internet and in-person. We're sort of backward.

A friendly song. A friendly message.

Aw, damn. I'm gonna kill that bastard.

I put a message and a song together and came up with a scenario: The Husband, worried that I was actually off my rocker this time, ferreted out the Rabid's email and contacted her. Those two talked on the phone before she and I ever did.

He told. Told her that she had a friend in some kind of need.

And--even though if I were her I'd shy away from me--in a fashion like lightening does, she responded.

I was embarrassed.

No one needs to know when you're out of your mind. Least of all people.

But Rabid isn't a people.

I didn't know I needed her.

But I surely did.

I called her back and she let me ramble. She let me spew my innards into her ear. She let me spill my poison. And she didn't try to fix it. She didn't tell me what to do. She listened. She let me. Let me. Let me be, well, Me. I'd rather not have to be Me today, but I'm stuck with this head. And she let me pop that head off, dump it out, and ram its contents into her ear canal.

It was, well, cathartic.

Why?

Because I knew. I knew she knew. Even if I wasn't making sense, this online dear one somehow knew what I was saying. And without too much clarification, I knew that she knew.

I needed her.

He knew. He knew I needed her. And she made herself available.

I don't need people.

But I do need a husband and a Rabid.

Good thing I've got both.

May you have one. The other. Or something akin to the two.

And may my tomorrow be better than my today.

3 comments:

Jessica said...

i've said it before, and i'll say it again: you and Rabid are a match made in heaven.

sorry about your bad day, but glad your Ravis was there.

Lars said...

I'll second Jessica's comment. Also I just wanted to say that on my super shitty days I like to get lost in reading blogs, usually your's because the humor is up my alley. So thanks again for blogging. May the rest of your week be Ravis/husband filled!

rabidrunner said...

Awe... shucks. Anytime, friend... anytime!