Tuesday I Get a Little Sideways

Somedays this girl wakes up wanting wine, and maybe to die, but just a little bit. Instead, I make coffee. Some victories are palpable. Listening to that one song by Ray Charles that always makes me cry can't be an option on mornings like this, so on second thought, I'll listen to Brooks and Dunn. Sure, I'll think of my dad, but the good stuff.
"Jukebox plays on drink by drink."

My grocery list should be longer than it is; it reads: Peroxide, Cereal. I should add "booze", but we don't have money for that.

Before the morning is over, I'll make the bed. I'll put away the dishes and polish off this pot of coffee. I'm going to waste a few more hours daydreaming of running away. I might research New Mexico towns, look for jobs in Labelle, Florida, and apartment search in Sulphur Springs, Texas.
"I like my women wild."

I'm trying to make good decisions. That's why I'm listening to country music.

i've grown weary on my own.

I blame myself for not listening to my psychic.

She was probably spot on, but shame on me, I didn't take notes and I didn't take heed. I do remember it being something like, "now is the time to DO", but WHO doesn't she say that to, you know? Anyway, I was in my Saturn Return and I swear to god, I wish my Saturn Return would last forever, but it doesn't. The threshold isn't very wide. And I'll be goddamned if I took advantage of Saturn and her orbit. I didn't.

I stayed stagnant, and as a result, here I am.

What no one tells you is, being a grown up is hard and it takes courage. I don't have that.

I Think I'm Cured

It's been a long time. And I'm not going to sugar coat anything, so, be prepared for facts that slice through human bodies easily and without remorse.

Let's start with the basics: life can fuck you up. That seems circular, I know, but go with it. Truths are vague and ever changing and unfair. Existence is hard, because it is, and also because, if we go in and out of it, is it really existing. Okay. Basics covered.

Now, on to the hard-stuff: Remember my grandma who had the health scare? Well, it wasn't over. As it is with life, things only got worse.

She was finally diagnosed with Giant Cell Arteritis. The devastation is, though, she was diagnosed too late by her back-woods physicians. She has lost complete vision in her right eye and approximately 80% in the other. No peripheral. She'll close her good eye and cry about the "gray mud" she sees. "Gray mud" she'll cry - that's all I see. Now, the 20% she has retained is dim. She calls life the "Dark City" - and it wouldn't be so beautiful if it wasn't so shattering. She'll smile and shake her head and cry and convince me that she'll be fine living in the Dark City.

Yesterday morning she woke up and everything was a little dimmer. She began shaking and crying and we admitted her into the hospital again. This time in Indy. (We'll never go back to Ball Memorial in Muncie. Fuck those guys).

Blindness, guys. We are battling an auto-immune disorder that attacks blood flow to the brain- it's already killed one optic nerve and it's trying so hard to slaughter the other.

We're sad. My papa cries and cries when she's not around. She cries and cries when he's not around. We're all dying in the Dark City.

But I suppose we all are.

I will write more about this somewhere, sometime.

I know you've been hurting

The kitchen was quiet tonight - it was me (soggy hands) and tomato stained bowls. My breathing was steady; no explanation - just steady.

Some days that's a little miracle.

And outside, tiny little specks of water hit the window. Quietly.

her eyes were clear and bright

Can I just let you in on my life for a moment? These past few weeks have been absolutely bat shit crazy. I'm not even kidding in the slightest. In a nutshell: rabid bat, quarantined cats, rabies shots, panic attacks, insomnia and dissolving friendships. That's enough to fill a year, huh? I won't go into extreme detail, but just let me tell you it's bad when the only option you can muster is: beg the love of you life to leave you. He needs to divorce me, I told him, because I'm nuts. I'm crazy and I'll only drag his life down the tubes and he deserves better.

Sounds like a goddamn party at my house, huh?

It hasn't been. 
But, I'm going to tell you about a few good things. I'm going to bottle up my exhaustion for a few minutes and harness the good. You know, block the jive, baby.

1. Don't you just love it when birds run across the road? I do. I know I've mentioned this somewhere on the internets before, but seriously. It's one of my favorite things.
2. Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen. Gimme that americana all day long - I'll sip it through a straw in the afternoons and take shots of it after dark. I can never tire of these dudes. I love them. I think, somehow, they know I've devoted my life, in a small way, to them.
3. I got lots of new (free) amazing makeup, two pairs of sweet earrings and two new dresses. This is fabulous, you know, for vain people like me. I like how I look mostly, except for that 3 pounds that just won't budge. (Hey, I told you I was vain).
4. Even though my job sucks all my life force through my nose, I'm still pretty damn good at it. I was spotted at a local farmer's market by a little girl who just stopped, dead in her tracks, and said smugly, "I know you. You are the librarian who did the Star Wars program." Yes, girl. Yes, I am.
5. I have this person in my life who will do things for me without questioning..like check the house 6 or 7 times a night for bats. He will let me sob on his chest at 330am. He puts his hand, spread wide, over my sternum with just the right amount of pressure and reminds me, "breathe in. breathe out. breathe in. breathe out" when every single thing in the whole wide world is exploding my body apart. When all I want to do is die, he reminds me that it's okay to be alive, mostly. He doesn't mind how badly I sweat when I cry. He doesn't care that I have all the building blocks in place to be absolutely insane. He doesn't even mind that stubborn 3 pounds.

He likes me enough to not abandon me, even when I beg him to. And even after ten years, being together is a joy. And despite the uneasy few weeks, I have a constant.

I'm lucky.

i can offer you a warm embrace

There are lots of different reasons to be sad. I'm experiencing about half of them -- all together. Topping the list, I just really miss my dad. I think that's okay to say nearly 12 years after his death. I didn't know him, but I bet he would really *get* me. I would wager that he might be close to the only one who could - but what am I to do? I wonder if he would wonder at 48, "could I have been more?" But he doesn't get that luxury. Well, fuck, let's call it like it is: I don't get that luxury. I don't get the luxury of being stable or being happy for longer than 4 days in a row.. I just can't get over the idea that maybe it's his fault. There, I said it. Getting mad after 12 years? Probably not normal.

Lots of people don't have dads. Lots of people borderline hate their jobs. Lots of people feel empty and relentlessly void. I am not unique in my trials and burdens. The unhinging of my life is ancient. Survival, really. Survival really gets me down. Understanding how it's done escapes me daily. Mostly, I feel like I'm not a real human. The things I do are tiny and dumb. I have a body that fails and a mind that fails and a heart that does, too.

I'm a mess, really. But when I really shake it down and label what it really is, I feel trite and like tomorrow's biggest idiot. I'm sad about a decade dead dad and about my job. What the hell?

When did life get dumb and hard?