Hanging my head low seems like the best thing to do these days. Trying to stay out of trouble, stay out of sight from life in general because every time it notices I am still here it wallops me in the face with another motherload of stinking shit. I would complain but I am past that. Now I am just in awe as to how people manage to survive when their lives are as non-linear as my own. I truly wonder if there is some sort of coping skill that is taught at some point that only some people manage to pick up on. Is it philosophical in nature? Religious or spiritual? Can people truly revere Chaos and live by her rules? I would have thought I would have learned by now. Lessons o\’ plenty have been thrown my way, but apparently I still have not garnered the needed knowledge. Some of us never learn, I suppose.
It has occured to me that all I want to do is hide in the crunchy and crinkly bed of ours until all this bullshit goes away. I have done that long enough in my life, though, and it has only made everything worse. Bed beckons, and yet I am forcing myself to go through the motions. Don\’t give up now. It\’s just another hurdle. Just another bump in the road. Just another giant and painful wart on the genitals. Cancer. Malign. But no one in my family has ever died of cancer. I may be the first among us to do many things, but death by cancer better not be one of them.
My grandfather on my father\’s side was admitted to the hospital last week. Treatment: electric shock therapy, which has, according to he and my grandmother, \”done wonders.\” He is now in a nursing home receiving physical therapy on his legs to try and help him walk again. The man was a goddamn physician for most of his life, and now he is having his brain recharged and his legs reconditioned for him. Maybe it is surprise that I feel, but mostly I think it is just numbness.
I have been nothing but numb for weeks now, since my grandmother died. The nightmares had stopped — two weeks of bliss — but last night, after having another off day, they returned full force. Everyone was in the dreams — all my relatives, my partner, my partner\’s daughter, my recently visited Scotsman, and some other people my memory has already thankfully let go of. I am weary of waking up every morning soaked in sweat and terrified. Repress everything while awake and then suffer in my sleep. Maybe it is the pills or maybe it is just a coping technique. The question is, is it a healthy one? What is normal? What if the grief cycle is wrong?
I\’m supposed to leave for New York next week and I don\’t even give a damn. That\’s a sure sign of trouble right there.