All too often, I find myself alone. It seems like everyone I talk to is too busy with things I’m not invited to to hang out with me. Facebook is full of people doing things I was never invited to.
I’m not sure how I got to be this person. I don’t know how I ended up here. But I’d really like to change my life now.
My emotional structureis degraded. Rusted tbrough and filled with more holes than swiss cheese.
I hate my lack of progress in life. No husband. No kids. No opportunity for a promotion at work. Stuck.
I am being eaten – like ants on a piece of candy – by the news streaming from Puerto Rico. At first, I couldn’t stop watchin…grasping for hope. Now I can’t stand to hear. Dredging up my failure and my helplessnes… My stomach churns bile into my throat. Selfish thoughts. He and the kids should be here with me, living safely. But they’re stranded on an island covered in water, potentially dying of dehydration and starvation. My heart breaks. I have no way to help. No money to send. Not that it would matter. Money doesn’t matter in a shattered world. No way to contact them. No way to bring them here. No knowledge of their fate.
A girl I work with didn’t show up and didn’t call in. They sent someone to her house to check on her. Thankfully they did. She’s receiving treatment in the hospital now. That could be me. Don’t know exactly yhe symptoms or what is wrong at the moment. But she is diagnosed with lupus. I watch her struggles. I see and recognize her difficulties. I never got into the habit of posting about my own heatlth. I was diagnosed with lupus. This woman recommended her doctor to me. I saw him and worked with him on a treatment plan for 3 years before I was declared in remission in April this year. I feel guilty she is so sick while I am healthy. I feel fear that at any moment I could relapse and travel down the same road she has been on. I feel terrified of becoming sick and dying alone. I feel concern for her well-being. It is no fun to experience illness and pain because your body attacks itself. I fear the reality of the horrible disease eating away at her.
Yet I am incredibly eternally grateful for my current health.
I’m losing my Grandmother. She is the only person who has been there 100% of the time my entire life. She is aging and can no longer live alone due to poor eyesight. She says she’s going to live with with my aunt and uncle. They tried to secretly commit her to a nursing home earlier this year. They visit eve couple of days… Unless other family is there. The impression is they will take her, lock hey in a bedroom in their house, and never let me see her again. Over the years they have told her horrible things like, “You’re too old to volunteer. You’re too old to drive. You can’t go to exercise class anymore.” They also told my mom they want the doctor to give her a pill so that she doesn’t ever disagree with them and she only does whatever they tell her to do. She has lived over 91 years and aged gracefully. I can’t stand the thought of drugging her, locking her up, and pushing her into the grave. She deserves so much more. Not to mention, I have a serious concern with drugging people in general. The whole idea makes me want to put them in straight jackets and have them locked away in an asylum. The whole situation fosters a frustrational-anger emotion I can’t describe because I have never felt it before this.
I have no control over any of this. I wish I could drink a magic tonic that would dissolve these harsh emotions.
In windy rhythm
In colorful rain they
Swing between the beats.
Written for Saturday Mix. Great way to wake up my mind after a late night with restless sleep. 1st workshop is in 1 hour 36 minutes. Competition in 4 hours 36 minutes.
I’ve had words to write… But not the time. Even now I have bit 2 minutes to spare. I hope I don’t forget my words before I can write them. Why is this week insanely busy?
There are moments when being a single female living alone pulls at the smoldering ruins of my heart, placing loneliness under a spotlight. I have never been one to be afraid of snakes. but I have always had a fear of fictional and imagined horrors lurking in dark, webby basements. I rarely venture into the basement past dark, as my imagination is far more active than reality. But it seems I had yet again forgotten to get a wash load in the dryer. This was already my second time around attempting to wash it. In the poor, shadowy lighting, I could see something at the bottom of the steps that appeared rope-like. But I knew I had not dropped anything rope-like. Waiting slyly and patiently at the bottom of the steps was a 10 in skinny snake. I bent lower toward it to confirm its markings in hopes it is definitely something lacking poisonous venom. When it attempted to slither behind my folding craft table, my dream from two nights ago came back to memory. In a dank, dusky, shadowy place not too unlike my basement, I was attacked by snakes. I retreated to find a flashlight, opened the garage/basement door, and returned to collect the snake. As I said, I have never feared snakes. I have a picture of me with a boa constrictor longer than my height around my neck… and another of me hanging out at my friend’s birthday party with a smaller ball python as a necklace. But this little guy reared up and took off when I tried to pick him up. He crept through invisible spider webs that I felt when I reached for his tail. The webs made my skin crawl more than the snake. Then he coiled his tail, sat with his head up and snapped at me. This tiny guy did not want to be evicted! I grabbed a towel like fabric from the dryer and attempted to get him with that over my hand. Even if he isn’t poisonous, I don’t want a snake bite – ironically because I got super drunk off those last weekend at Ren Fest. My dream edged its way into my memories as if I were in deja vu. The snake resisted, searching desperately for a hiding place. He had better success than I did. That stupid “room” for the water heater is nothing more than a frame with a door. Apparently tiny, viscous snakes can hide very well between the wood frame and the concrete floor. The creepiest thing about this whole scenario is the dream I had about getting attacked by snakes just two nights ago… and now there is a tiny, aggressive snake slinking about my shadowy basement. It allows my imagination to run wild with “what-ifs” about basement theatrics and death sentences. Ultimately, those “what-ifs” remind me how alone I am. I mean honestly, if I got bit by a poisonous snake and succumbed to an illness or a death, nobody would notice I was gone. Nobody would notice me missing until Monday about 10:54 when I’m not there to teach my math class. Now I suppose I my OCD is making me go double check that I closed and secured that basement door… which means I may encounter my slithery house guest, or some other unruly beast that only appears in the depths of basements.
On the northern end of our continent, wildfires rage. While the southern end of the continent is under water and preparing for more. It looks like Puerto Rico was spared of the worst. But too many others haven’t been. It is so hard to watch such devastating tragedy without any ability to help.
A piece of my heart has always been in Puerto Rico. I used to tell my mom I was going to live there when I was an adult. Apparently my adulting didn’t quite fulfill thay dream.
Ironically, a piece of my heart moved there without the rest of me.
It was really hard to admit to myself that my heart still hurts after he left a year ago. I’ve never hung on to emotions or a relationship for even a fraction of the time.
Today I’m watching from the internet… From my phone as the place I love is tormented by the strongest hurricane to ever hit the Atlantic. I haven’t heard from him for about 10 months. So I’m here… Thousands of miles away… Knowing he and his children are there. But there is nothing I can do about it.
I have absolutely no control.
I won’t know, of course. I might never know. All I can do is pray… and hope they are okay.
My heart is heavy with accepting the loss of a true love and my heart is burdened with fear and concern (even if I technically have no right to have that concern anymore) for his well-being.
Photo from this article: https://www.google.com/amp/www.marketwatch.com/amp/story/guid/2E1CAA7A-92D3-11E7-AA44-01E51F3BD1EF#ampshare=http://www.marketwatch.com/story/potentially-catastrophic-hurricane-irma-makes-landfall-in-the-caribbean-2017-09-06