Trying to hang on. Every day. I try.

Sometimes I wish I could just die in my sleep. Tired. So tired.

A confusing time.  Mid-life crisis?  Or simply the continuation of a life-time of indecision, and angst.  I crave direction.  Desperately.  I crave help.  I'm alone here, in this apartment, in my head.  I want to talk it out, ask for guidance, I need support.    An object in motion stays in motion, an object at rest stays at rest.  I am sick of rest. I want to move - but where?  And how? 

Behind the Curtain

You remember the last scene of the wizard of oz?
They're terrified. This mystical, scary wizard with the
booming voice was so scary, so intimidating. 
~A bit of an asshole really.
Then the curtain is pulled away to reveal a weak, feeble old man
and suddenly,
we feel sorry for him. 

I've spent most of my life hating him, avoiding him, fearing him.  After years, I saw him.   His face was pale.  Bloated.  Distorted.   He shuffles now.  Short, slow steps.  He has a cane.  A walker hidden in the closet.  He's slumps over.  A byproduct of deteriorating discs. His thick brown hair has been replaced by sickly, thin tufts that remind me of a baby bird.  His arms are blotchy with discolored bluish-red patches.  His fingernails crusty and falling apart.  He sits in chairs with arms only, so he can get back up, albeit painfully slow.  His belly is protruding, presumably from the colostomy bag that resides somewhere inside his collared linen shirt.

Dad?

Dying is hard to see.  I didn't know if I could successfully cope.  I haven't experienced it ever before.  I would be scared for anyone in such a state.  But this was Dad.   Seeing him in such a debilitated state was.  Awful.  And.  Confusing. 

Why does illness get to wipe away 60+ years of being an asshole?   Although I do feel sorry for him.   I have since childhood.    I can avoid him because I live on the other side of the country. But the question is, should I?  My Mom is his full-time nurse for years now - all on her own.  I don't know if I resent him - I think I do.  I remember him saying he loved me but it doesn't mean he has to like me.  I was 10.

Yes, Dad was aggressive, blustery, nasty and mean.  But this man - made me.

Sad.


Nobody is born an asshole, true - but it didnt make it easier for us growing up.  At some point, you have to , take responsibility for your behavior, and improve yourself - seek help. Therapy, books, conversation - whatever.... IntrospectionI tried to separate myself completely at 18 - haven't been "home" since...
He faded away...

"Dad Update"

So, my Mom writes me an email "update" that my Dad, who has had cancer for a number of years, is losing his hair and now having trouble standing and moving.

.....

Ok, all I can write about it right now.

Too much.

Can't handle it.

Running

My goal is to run 4 miles a day for the rest of February.  2 days in the can! 

Outdoor Adventure?

I dream of of climbing, hiking, camping, canoeing, surfing, biking, running.   But my partner is unable to pursue them.  If I pursue them I will be leaving him at home?  That's crappy.  What do I do?

Erratic Stagnation

Neighbor: How are you?


A quick self-assessment. Well, let's see. Currently feeling....Desperate. Bitchy. Ashamed. Afraid. Hopeless. Pained. Hurt. Grief. Angry. Shamed. Isolated. Bored. Lonely. Helpless. Despairing. Glimmers of hope and optimism. Gratitude. Joy. Inspiration. Then fear. Worry. Anxiety. Fatigued. Sadness. Rage.   
Mainly, highly displeased that I stepped into this occupied elevator.  I take great effort to avoid contact.


Me: Fine.   


Feeling hazy. Vision impaired. Future uncertain. Being well-versed in the symptoms of depression, I immediately launched a contingency plan to not only stay afloat while unemployed, but to reap sweet revenge against my bully-oppressor via my sweet, sweet limitless success.  I refuse still to suggest defeat, yet, I am in battle.  Against purely myself.  I don't know why exactly.  I try to follow my thoughts to where they're taking me to - to redirect them.  I don't want to ruminate on the negative.  Or, do I?  Each day is an emotional minefield.  I ping-pong from place to place with electrifying irregularity and reckless disorder.

Looking for the light

Sudden Changes

So, it's a long gruesome story.   After starting from nothing and working my way from temp secretary to director in 6 years I was fired without cause.  There was an uproar at the institution and the faculty came together to protest on my behalf to no avail.  Sociopaths can not be reasoned with as chaos is their goal.   I was shocked.  Furious.  Hurt.  And now mainly depressed.  Where to go from here?  I have a strong inclination to go under the covers.   I'd begun to see this field as my first real "career", but I'm so disgusted I feel repulsed by trying again.  And what will I tell potential new employers in an interview?  The shame.  The shame.  It goes beyond merely employment to affect my worldview?  How can such injustice occur?   If this can happen, how can I work for ANYONE again?  Perhaps now is the time for me to launch my dream of being a self-employed entrepreneur.   Can I do it?  Do I have the confidence?  The drive?  The vision?  The discipline?  I vacillate in fear.   After 6 years of living in New York, back to the drawing board.

In the meanwhile, my meager attempt to keep my head above water has taken physical form.  I've begun jogging again (which I had started last December but discontinued since Summer due to the high demands and long work hours of the job).   At least now (hallelujah), this is the bright side.  Never will I be required to tolerate the insanity of that toxic, soul crunching environment.  I am FREE!  Thank god for that.   So, for now, this is at least one area of my life within my control that I can make positive.  I am without income, can not affect or help D's relentless pain, am fairly isolated, but, I can run, and read, eat healthy, lose weight and get in shape.  In fact, i have my eyes on a marathon.  May seem over-ambitious since I barely ran 4 miles in 60 minutes last night, but why couldn't it be achievable in 11 months?   In the process, I'd like to achieve losing the second half of my 100 pound weight loss.    In fact, I may start a blog dedicated to this....  I mean, it's SOMETHING, right?   Right now, I just have to hold on to something.

The Years Keep Creeping On

I'm 37??????!!!  How can that be??!   It doesn't seem right.  What does it mean?  That number seems far to big.  Look at me.  Still here, with the same sophomoric rants and egocentric laments.   I don't act or feel like what i think should be 37.   When someone on tv is revealed to be 37, I am shocked - they look so old - but they're just like me?!   So perplexing. Figuring out how and who to be.   Mold myself into what I believe to be appropriate age 37 behavior?    I think I may be intellectually stunted.