Appropriate Change.

Yes, it's a thing.  It's been an interesting and trying week filled with possibility and seriously scary challenges on the very near horizon.  I'm not ready to talk about most of it, especially the more serious matter, but the exact 'what' of it isn't really the most important thing at the moment anyway.  Change is coming.  Isn't that enough?

At the risk of repeating myself I'll say, again, that I don't have a support network for any of the challenges I face.  It's me, myself, and I.  That's it.  I don't involve my kids in the big things because I don't feel it's necessary, and they have enough going on in their own lives to have my crap to deal with too.  I'm on my own, and this time... I'm not supposed to be.

Confusing, isn't it?  Well, I honestly don't mean to confuse anyone by leaving out critical details, but it is what it is.  At least for now anyway.

What I'm facing is risky.  Real risky.  I have surgery scheduled the first week of November, and I'm hoping that will make for a much-needed change for the better for my health.  I've no idea what autoimmune disasters lay ahead, meaning what damage they will do, but while I can still do SOMETHING to stave off anything that stands in my way to fully recovering and living a full life... I will choose to do just that.  With or without support from T, who is as emotionally absent as a wet dish rag, I'm going to do this FOR ME.  Will he help in those first few weeks as I recover?  That remains to be seen.  I'm sure he's going to approach this like he does absolutely everything else, and that means doing as little as possible as seldom as possible, IF he does anything at all.

Sad.  But true.

There is significant risk.  Did I mention that?  Serious risk.  This surgery is a big one, and T has absolutely nothing at all to say about it.  Not to me.  Not to anyone else.  He's behaving like I have the sniffles, and it's not playing or denial.  He thinks he's literally going to die when he gets a cold, but I'm facing major surgery and he says.... nothing.  What does that mean, exactly, and why does it matter?

Because the last person I have to see fact to face before being put under is him--the indifferent guy, the guy who's careless about my feelings, my needs, careless when it comes to me as a human being.

Either way, with or without his help and/or emotional support it's happening.  In the end it will change me.  Not change me in that I'll be someone else.  I'm talking the kind of change that reconnects my mind, body and spirit again, one that renews my faith and inner strength.  At least that's how something like this should work, you know.. those life-altering things.

The change that will come about, and it will, is the kind that makes sense, change that is... appropriate.  And by THAT I mean... changing for myself, rather than trying to be something I'm not to please and appease someone else.  Screw that! Been there, done that, and all that sort of thing does is harm the person who's scrambling to be what they aren't.

NEVER change for another person!  Always change for yourself.  Period.

Oh well.  That's just something on my mind this evening.  I'm sure I'll get some sleep and feel better about it tomorrow.  Pfffft!  Naw.  I'll be back here trying to work through it all.

Do know this:  The closer my surgery date gets the more I'll likely be posting here....

Till next time....

A deep, dry well.

Art.  Cliche?  Maybe.  Or maybe it's a way of life, the heart and soul of some.  Given that, what happens when the well of creativity, that life-spark driving the light, shadow, colors and prose runs dry, or is emptied by the carelessness or abuses of others?  Bringing rhetorical questions to the table means I'm still working this one out.  There's no way I would promise myself I'll have answers, at least not anytime soon.  Truth be told, I've stopped making promises to myself several years ago.

Each day is met with a knot in my stomach.  Not really a panic thing, but just this side of the hole leading to that abyss, one that I've not had the displeasure of visiting.   Nor do I care to--visit that is.  Still, this vaguely familiar 'gut' feeling is one that isn't completely new to me, and I will admit that it's usually brought about after the long haul of unhappiness has brought me to my knees.  I'm there.  Waking each day just this side of panic and wondering why the hell I'm still here, in this place, with this person, and at this particular time.  "Fate" has no hand in this.  I walked right into this, head first, eyes closed, and purposely forgetting every lesson I've learned to-date.

My bad.  No really.  I mean it.  My bad.

Especially through those fatigue-laden morning hours, where I struggle to get from point A to point B, that is where the worst of the darkness resides.  My ability to get through it all amazes even me.  If I can make it to the first cup of coffee, then the next, I should be okay (for the most part).  If I can just get THERE I might just make it without falling apart in one way or another.  Hell, even if I did fall apart---who would see, care?  If a tree falls in the forest....

I'm tired.  Yes, I know, by now you think even that's a cliche.  But I am.  Tired.  All over, inside and out, in body, mind, and spirit.  Especially that last part.  Every day.  And I meant that.

Where once the well of creativity was clear, deep, holding mysteries... there's now just a fading imprint, a line on the wall if you will... that marks where the good stuff once was.  No, I'm not trying to be poetic.  Just stating how I see it, how it feels.  The essence of that creativity where the color, light, shadow, prose... is there.  Oh, not in abundance.  Not yet anyway.  But it's still there.  I can sometimes be moved by the world around me, despite the bland dredges of life with T.

More later.......

Struggling to keep up

That's not a new thing, now is it?  How many times have I talked about struggling to dot all the I's and cross all the T's (no pun intended)?  More than I care to admit to, that's for sure.  But my everyday life is fraught with just that, and almost all that.  This is a rut not of my own making, so methods of escape of the common variety won't work here, sadly.  But I must find one that will work.

So what exactly do I mean by "escape"?  That's not entirely easy to explain, but I will try my best.  I don't necessarily have to be somewhere else, a different location in order to escape.  In fact, that rarely ever solves any problems, you know... running away.  Been there, done that, and it didn't work.  But being able to be myself, be in my own skin as me is the only true way of 'getting out' or 'escaping' from what I'm dealing with.

I need room to breathe.

And yes, all the talking, talking, talking, wheeling and dealing, begging and pleading has made absolutely NO difference here.  Too bad banging one's head against the proverbial wall didn't burn calories.  Mostly what it does is wreck your health in other ways, sometimes more permanent ways.  But about that later.  The talking doesn't work, and it didn't work last night.  Like the 'common man' he went the rout of denial, presenting burnt offerings of overused one liner responses and trying to exit stage left.  It's what he does.  It's what most 'ordinary' men do.

Frankly, I'm tired of being the one doing all the work.  Boy, does that ever a familiar situation, and one I'd rather not have to live through again.  It's like "Here you go!  YOU get to carry the load of the relationship, do all the work, jump through hoops when Mr. Man says 'jump!,' pick up the pieces when he fucks up, put them back together while juggling everything else he's not doing.  Oh yeah.  I've been here before.

I've been pushing myself beyond what my body can handle.  For about a month now I've turned my focus away from healing in my spirit, my body, my soul... and now I focus on everything that has to be done, because I'm the only one to do it, whatever 'it' happens to be.  From the time I wake up until the time I drag myself to bed---and I mean DRAG---I'm going, going, going, going, and cleaning up after a 50+ year old man-child.  Yep.  Been there done that before too.

I'm worn to the bone in ways I cannot describe.  I work until I collapse, and I'm not exaggerating.  The man who spent WEEKS not planting our plants in the yard and garden, the man who just milled about while staring at his phone (FB) and making excuses for putting things off... spent 4 hours this morning... milling about, looking at his phone, and doing meaningless crap to avoid doing what needs to be done.  Funny thing, though... he was able to plant everything he said was taking too long and would take to long to do before.  I don't get it.  I just don't get it.

Oh, and I'm sure a couple of you are wondering why I don't do that myself.  Well, I was doing it myself until the yard was taken over by yellow jackets, which are far more aggressive and numerous this time of year.  That's another talk show, but I can't deal with those things AT ALL, and T isn't at all afraid of them.

But a few weeks ago I did go out there and dig the holes for the plants, and I helped T dig out the area for the other arbor.... until I began sick.  Sun and I don't get along well, and if I get too much of it I get sick.  Even then I pushed my body beyond what it could handle.

I made a discovery in this process, however.  I love gardening.  Who knew?  I have to be picky about the time of day, but while Mr. Man says "Yard work just isn't my thing," I'm willing to pick up the pieces there too.  Basically, my entire life is spent cleaning up after him INSIDE... and doing everything OUTSIDE as well.  This battle is one my body is losing.  Not sure how to fix that one.

Sleep is seriously elusive now.  I've been prone to insomnia for the past 15 yrs or so, and now it's breaking me.  I get headaches, can't think straight, am horribly weak... and how this has affected me mentally is the worst.  I don't know how to fix this either.

Peace is the only thing that will fix any of this.

For many years I've reached for peace, sought it, waited for it, listened for it... and a couple of times I had peace in my life.. only to have someone come along and rip it out of my spirit and life.  I haven't stopped looking, searching, yearning for peace in my life.  It's critical.

In four weeks I have to have surgery.  Some things are just too personal, and some of the procedures and surgeries I've had to go through are some of those very personal things.  I may talk about it one day, but not now.  The doctors and my surgeon are hoping this will turn things around for me, for my health.  But it's going to be a bitch before it gets better, that's for sure.  What will fall to the wayside in decay when I have to go through about 6 weeks of recovery?

God, I just can't allow myself to think about that right now.

Till next time....

Zella Day - Sweet Ophelia (Official Video)