Or browse results titled :. I'm Still in Love with You 2. Those Lovely Dreams 3. Tarahumara Run remix 4. Watch the Stars 5. Never Felt Lonely 6. Postcard 7. Putting Our Hearts Together 8. In Texas remaster 9. Heaven Samoa-radio mix All My Dreams remix This Town Chapter 3 One Mic remaster Before the Fall-Radio mix Melancholy Days remaster Here We Are remaster Postcard bass-drum mix Watch the Stars drums-bass mix about Have Folk, Will Rock combines the best of Raggedy Edge's folk and rock traditions, with several genres in between. Country, blues, bluegrass, world, and adult contemporary share centerstage with the duo's heartfelt writing.
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Raggedy by Bob Farley. Raggedy Edge. If you like Raggedy Edge, you may also like:. The latest release by Ziemba sounds like peering through a sonic keyhole to both the past and future. Skulls Remix by Dear Nora.
Avant-garde indie pop gems from Japan with melodies that go unexpected places and all sorts of quirky instrumentation. All the screaming is inside my head.
Meanwhile my family gets to see me unravel every day. I crawl back into bed a lot.
I hulk out over the smallest problem. I wake up in a panic and run to check if my children are still breathing. I clutch my chest to try and lift this weight off of it. At any moment, and sometimes for no reason, completely overwhelmed. I used to whirl around in a tornado of efficiency — packing lunches and dispensing medications and solving problems. I put the milk in the cupboard. I need people to repeat things to me several times before they make sense.
I thought depression would be sadder. I still laugh and enjoy things, though nothing is as bright or clear anymore. Then I unload the dishwasher and must retreat back to bed for a nap. Partly as an apology, because as irrational as it may be, I still carry a lot of baggage with me about being selfish and letting people down. In the face our worst nightmare we put on a brave face, sing a song, make a game of it… anything to make it easier for our babies.
And our own trauma gets stuffed way down. Just yesterday I had to bring her in for another blood test. I crawled up into the bed with her, wrapped her in my arms and legs and tried to distract her while she cried and struggled and screamed. It was an easier one.
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So, if you ask me how I am, I might give you a polite lie and move on, which is probably easiest on us both. I just need to be seen and heard. Not Fine is an awful and important part of being human.
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As entrenched as our family is in the business of Not-Dying, we need days like this. Even a moment like this. To remember the point of it all…. A few weeks ago I pulled over to the side of a busy road, hiking back to the creek I had crossed a thousand times.
The mysterious how-to-be we spend so much time and energy and money chasing. Grinding gears slip into place. Tension unravels, clouds clear, calm within the storms. Caress, nest of safe and warm, giggling children, a dance twitching through my limbs. Even here, at the side of the busy road… Maybe especially here. In the olden days, before PVR and Netflix, we used to watch television commercials. So we endured. If a marketing department had done their job well, then a piece of those commercials would stick with you for days, even years. A jingle, a logo, an image… haunting you in the most annoying way possible.
I never really got the joke. The directions on the package instruct you to identity a difficult issue. Push the button. And move on with your day. I spend a lot of time wishing for an easy button in my life. But she seemed to be on the mend, just in time for spring break and, best of all, music camp. We decided to take advantage of our in-house babysitters and go on a date, before the teens left on their camping trip. On the way to the restaurant, Big Sister called to let us know that B was acting sicker than before and her temperature was climbing.
By the time we raced home she had spiked a real fever, then coughed until she threw up. Cue the familiar and frantic dance of cancer families in an emergency. Things can go very wrong, very quickly these days. I sat by her bed for hours and felt sorry for myself I do that a lot these days. Pneumonia has, thus far, been one of our easier emergencies. I found myself telling a friend how everything pales in comparison to the heaviest chemos. Which is the most horrible thing to celebrate. I think about that stupid easy button a lot. Imagining a world where it actually existed.
Not just for cancer, but for all the things that make my life hard. Problems solved. Sickness cured. Anxiety gone. Disabilities erased. Relationships restored. Everyone agrees with me. There will probably come a time when I can wax eloquent about the beauty of struggle or the lessons we learn through the fire or some sentimental drivel like that.
Life is hard. It just is. One of the things that seems more clear to me now than ever, is that we waste an enormous amount of time and energy distancing ourselves from sitting in this reality.
If not engaged in outright avoidance, we prefer to channel our experience of suffering through some pre-determined narrative to make it more palatable. You know the stories. The ones with a villainous other who we can blame for all our troubles — because anger feels so much more powerful than pain. There may be some truth in these interpretations of events — either an injustice to fight against or a power which transcends my suffering. That should be a depressing thought, but I find it liberating.
No more tilting at windmills.
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