November 14/25
I don’t want to write here! Why can’t I just “be’?
I’d do music, but it’s hard to listen to now. It just hits me differently. It almost goes TOO deep. I had a piece just STUCK in my head and had to try to drive it out. Just gloomy, a dirge. I don’t know if listening to something else will help.
I just remembered the other time I couldn’t do music – during the most wretched part of 2005, when I couldn’t even read. I just couldn’t, it tore the skin off me. So what’s this about? Do I HAVE to find out? Why can’t I just relax?
I seem wired to “resist”.
(Later) I guess I have to, here. I just do. Certain things can’t be stopped, and maybe shouldn’t be (?). I’m past-tripping WAY too much, but can’t seem to stop it either. My health? Facing – what? Today was not good, but I did lie down around 3:00 and didn’t get up until 4:30. I don’t even know if I slept, but I was SO comfortable, so warm, and for once nothing hurt or pulled or tingled or ached. So what’s THAT about? Never mind, I had it, a sanctuary. I still feel weird in a way, noise in my ears, the sore in my mouth, the ECG (?). Blood on my pillow every night. Blood. Some of it quite gory and red, but is it out of my mouth, my ears, my nose, WHAT? I’m still having it.
It’s a time of change in the family, for sure, the breaking up of longstanding patterns of life. I’ve become used to a quieter way of life, but I still have my creative interests. They surround me, literally, and I am able to share them. But I just looked up the Margo letter and discovered it was 2012 – way longer ago than I thought. Almost 14 years. I do think of her sometimes, but her life had stagnated so badly, she was so bitter and limited and seemingly clutching it to herself, that I couldn’t or wouldn’t go on with it, absorbing all her toxins. She didn’t seem to KNOW. And compulsively searching for rooms to rent in Vancouver, while in the next breath saying she would “never leave her husband” – what craziness is that? She lost her way and did not even seem to notice, and I was her support system, a safe person to “vent” to, but what about it was lifeward and positive? NONE OF IT. At that time I was just writing the Harold book and the grandkids were quite young, so I was in the thick of it. Now - .
So at least I got in a good nap, whether I actually slept or not. It always seems like I don’t, but then when I check the time, it’s always a lot later than I thought. What matters is that I finally got warm, relaxed, comfortable, and that seemed like a miracle in the middle of all this hell. Yes, it has been and continues to be hell. I don’t see the future, but I don’t want to feel there isn’t one. I keep wanting to toss off this black lid that keeps squashing me down. Hey, I don’t have cancer (do I?). They haven’t found anything. I may have discomfort, low energy, whatever, from being literally gutted. My worst fear now is that it will recur and I’ll lose my whole colon and die anyway, with a disgusting bag of shit hanging out of a hole in my abdomen.
That’s real.
I feel sort of stoned now, but I haven’t taken any THC oil and don’t want to. I was FRYING last night, the nerve was sizzling, and I assume the oil did it. I still take the Tevas, but I don’t know why. They don’t help the pain much at all. The codeine may well be affecting me. I don’t want to take the cholesterol pills for a while, in case it’s that, or an interaction.
But the last year has been horrible, and it came out of nowhere. Another new year is coming up, and while it doesn’t mean much of anything, just the numbers changing, I try to make sense of it and try to be more hopeful. But it will depend.
The surgeon said six months to a year, and it hasn’t been a year yet, but a year since the hell began and the rug was jerked out from under me. I may well have a bad anniversary reaction, which is maybe what I am having now.
My online life, well, it’s not much of one, and I don’t like Facebook, though it seems to be the only way to find out my dearest friends are dead. The Bohdan thing is still bothering me, and it’s disturbing to realize that he seemed to have no sense of personal boundaries at all. Yes, he was European and all, but - . To say it was inappropriate is an understatement. And it all ended in the early 00s. More than 20 years ago, but now he’s dead, and I wrote my tribute and need to get on with it. He was old and sick and kind of deluded, but wasn’t he always?
Christmas looms, and I don’t want to think about it. We’re not doing a turkey, and I don’t think anyone needs to. I assume Shannon will go to the Patersons’. If we can have our lunch thing, it will be enough for me. I don’t know about Jeff and the kids. If he does have us over, I don’t expect anything fancy. Just being together is “it”. I know how things, people can slip away forever. SO MANY PEOPLE I loved are dead now! One by one, they just died, and I did not always know why. I do not have close friends or any friends at all, really, but my friendships were so draining that part of me is relieved. If I DID send Margo that letter, it’s honest and well-written, but I don’t think that is what I sent her. I spared her feelings while suffering myself, as usual, as always.
A certain other person keeps barging into my mind, and I do NOT know why, as it’s irrational as hell. I’ve even left comments and things on Facebook, critical of him, and I do not like him and see him as a self-pitying, dried-up old stick, a joyless person who does not ever laugh or even smile, and who supports Palestine in a way that makes my hair stand on end. And then there was all that moaning about the Prince Harry debacle. My God, I cannot believe I subjected myself to all that, and the horrible warnings about my comments that were completely unwarranted.
I am trying very hard just to post things and not pay attention to views. My old ones (old OLD, but YT changed the dates on them) are getting comments, which is weird, but it turns out YT is NOT sending out notifications at all. I tick the box, then it greys out and disappears. I am tired of sending “feedback” (useless!) and even paper letters to GOOGLE, like throwing them in the ocean (or directly into the shredder).
Anyway, I am tired now and hope I sleep well without taking ANY of the oil or THC gummies or whatever. I am afraid of withdrawal if I just stop the Tevas, which have been of very limited value anyway.
I’m seeing Xmas stuff in the stores and even hearing the music, which makes me want to scream, but we CAN keep it simple if we want to. The most I want to do is our usual lunch thing, and if Jeff wants to do the dinner, fine. He has NO IDEA how to cook anything, however. Maybe he should make pasta? I think he can do sauce. But it’s the work. The 50 years unsung, and no one really giving a crap except to take, take, take.
That is how it is.