On Living, Dying, Building Furniture, and Faux Sugar
Piece by Piece by Motherf**cking Piece
Some days, I can feel those vultures casually soaring and circling up above, just watching and waiting.
I'm tired. I am worn down. I am emotionally drained. It doesn't pay to have feelings. It doesn't pay to trust someone to hold what you talk about in confidence or in any kind of high regard when instead, it's just stored for later use as things to throw back in my face.
I'm not allowed to be frustrated. I'm not allowed to express said frustration. I don't have any right to grieve. I don't have any right to be insulted when someone shows me how very little they care. I don't have a right to be hurt when someone else decides to erase a significant portion of their and my history, nor do I have the right to ask them to not say one thing, one phrase. How dare I. How very dare I.
I am overwhelmed. I am not a pillar of strength. Time and bullshit are taking their toll on my psyche, and my body, and I'm not sure how to get out, around, or through any of it. Do I handle it with grace and dignity? Absofuckinglutely not. Do I panic? Do I freeze? Do I cease to be able to think? Do I yell? Do I get upset? Do I get frustrated? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY.
There just doesn't seem to be any happy medium when it comes to my ability to have relationships with many people (not everyone, but a large majority). I tend to attract those who would respond to simple statements of my own feelings with disgust, impunity, and a whirlwind of hatred that does not equal the statement made. OR, those who choose to be cold, calculating, unfeeling, obsessed with "The Lord Jesus Christ," and wouldn't know a hug or affection if it slapped them upside the face with a 2x4.
If life is a pinball machine, I am the pinball. The balanced middle ground is very narrow. One side = hellfire and brimstone; Other side = frozen tundra.
So, instead of focusing on the collective bullshite over which I have zero control, this is what I want and what I am doing for me:
1. Art. I have the stuff, now I will use it.
2. Yarn. I have the stuff, now I will use it.
3. Exercise. I don't care what anyone else does, this is what I need for me.
4. Self maintenance. Self care is a misnomer. I can't necessarily say I care what happens to me, but at least I can maintain what's left of me while I am here, right?
5. Decluttering and engaging in some format of minimalism.
6. Solving my own problems. Nobody is coming to save me, so it's up to me.
As often as it enters my braincell, I don't want to take my leave of the planet. I'm far too much a coward to do anything like that anyway. I used to not be able to understand those that did, but I do, now, get it. I just don't live in that camp. However, I also realize that no matter how many times, or how many different ways I say I need help, the only one hearing me is me, and therefore, it's up to me, and only me, to get to a place where those thoughts cannot penetrate.
I cannot control what anyone else says, thinks, believes, or chooses to do. I can only control me. I am a flawed soul, and I make mistakes daily, if not hourly, but I am trying, and I will know when I hit the mark. For now, that's all I can do.
Starting From Zero
Continuing with the Tracy Chapman theme ...
"Got nothing to lose ... Me, myself, I got nothing to prove."
At this point, life really is about what I make of it.
Live and Die This Way ...
I don't remember if I took the actual picture in 2014, but it hit me seeing the glimpse of light amidst the snowy, cloudy winter sky. It's not often I capture something that looks exactly as I saw it, but this was one of them.
Machetes, Needles, Daggers, and Angels in the Sky
Before I forget, I forgot to tell you about an absolute angel I met on the plane last month. She reminded me of my daughter-in-law. She was tiny, but you could tell she just had a good strong energy about her. We were exiting Chicago for Phoenix. She was returning home to Arizona after trying her hand in the military, which she discovered was not for her. Good for her for knowing when to call it quits!
Anywho, for context, I have a hard time with take-offs. The speed, and the act of a plane leaving the ground, right at that moment when the front wheels lift off, and then shortly thereafter, when the whole thing is airborne, and pointed more upward than down, and the physical sense of pressure all just gives me a tremendous amount of anxiety and ear pain. I mostly try to ease my discomfort by chewing no less than five pieces of gum, holding my hand to my chest, somewhere above the rack, and looking out the window and down at my uncertain future on the ground.