One day at a time…disconnected

It is such a beautiful day today. After a week of almost non stop rain and grey skies the sun has come out and I am trying to get myself motivated to go to the gym, or at least go for a walk in the sunshine and fresh air. Touch nature. Earth myself and reconnect with life going on. Because I have disconnected again.

Normally I would have my beautiful eldest son here with me being a Sunday, but this morning as I woke I struggled. I have been struggling for the past week at least. I had a virus and my body was so fucked up with anxiety, grief and stress that it was fatigued and just said ‘no’. For at least 3 of the days I could barely pull myself out of bed. I felt so weak. Nothing is more fucked up as when both your body and your mind says ‘no’.

All things were leading to it. My eldest son whom those who read this blog know is now showing the full effects of this insidious neurodegenerative disease that not only takes everything from him but takes those that love him along with it…its painful to watch. Inside I feel like my heart is slowly being torn to bits, and my soul aches. My hopes and dreams for this beautiful human to have a wonderful fulfilling life no longer an option.

Some days I pull myself out of everything because I can not face watching everyone else be able to just go on with their lives, moaning and groaning about how someone cut them off on the road, or the neighbours cat pooing in their garden, or a friend bitching about another friend because they just did not agree with them, or that America is in such a hole because of that idiot twat-face who seems to think he has the right to call himself a President! and I just want to scream;

FUCK YOU ALL, FUCK YOU WITH YOUR INSIGNIFICANT DIATRIBE…..MY SON IS DYING…

So many things have pushed me these last weeks. Hearing that his sight is starting to fail on top of everything else and being with him on the couch watching him fall asleep next to me tired and imagining he may stop breathing in front of me, or is this what he will look like when he passes. Shit at the office, people speaking to me and about me as if I was a bit of shit under their boot because their own lives are so fucked up they needed to pick on someone who seems happy and affable and just ‘nice’. A very dear friend of mine, miles away in Sydney where I can’t get to see him telling me by text because he can no longer speak, his cancer has now moved into his spine. An ex – fiance who I haven’t seen in nearly 30 years arriving back in town and harassing me endlessly with phone calls and text messages to help him because he did stupid stuff again and has no one else he can leach off because he has fucked up again and again, but hey, just call Roz..she’s a soft touch.  And lastly, temporarily pulling away from my beautiful yank 2 because everything that was going on was becoming just too much and causing myself heartache over it in the meantime because I was shutting myself off from the one thing that does bring some happiness and joy into my life at present.

I don’t make it easier by not taking medication, everyone else does it to cope why don’t I?

Because it took me a long time to see my normal self again after 17 years on it and I worked hard to find me again in the middle of probably the worst 5 years of my life. No, I got that wrong, this has been a return to some of the worst years of my life as my childhood was pretty awful and fucked up.

Doesn’t matter what I say, there will always be some other smartarse out there that will say; well at least you have a roof over your head and you are not starving etc etc…I fucking know that you moron but there is only so much a person can handle on their own in their own life without taking on the guilt of every fucked up thing in this world today.

I watched the wonderful Gore Vidal in a documentary about his life last night. It was not too long before his death and an interviewer asked him what he thought his legacy would be and he did not miss a beat and said “I really do not give a … damn”.  It made me laugh. It made me think how wonderful it would be if I could simply not give a damn about it all. Easier, less painful.

But I can’t because I do, so I need to take each day as it comes and move one foot after the other and reconnect.

I am now going to take that walk in the sunshine whilst it is out….

Love and whitelight xx

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Life well past him..over 2 years on..

It’s been many months since I have posted. Recently a friend said to me ‘you haven’t written in your blog for a long time’ I told her I was surprised she’d read it, and she said, ‘of course I enjoy reading it’.

Writing seemed to help me through troubled times.  My very first post was 18 May 2015 only days after being back from Arizona and seeing the ‘him’ in ‘life beyond him’ that fucking crazy time. When I read back some of my posts I say ‘oh boy what a troubled mind’.

Yank 2 (I hate calling him that now because I know he doesn’t like being referred to as yank but that was the character name I gave at the time), Chicago boy, whom I am still connected to but this weekend had decided to pull away from for my sanity often says my one redeeming feature is self awareness. Oh I am aware, I am aware how much I do not fit into this crazy existence and at times, like today I realise how much easier it is to just let everything overwhelm you to such an extent that you just want to leave this life..find peace, and death seems very attractive. But that is no longer my reality. I am stronger than that. I just have days when I need to recalibrate.  I am still 2 and a half years off antidepressants after 17 years on them and although I have bad days they are few and far between now and I get over it. The reality is life is not one straight path. It meanders and it runs uphill and downhill and sometimes round and round in circles.

Today I am having a mental health day. And I have been honest and told my bosses why. But I feel incredibly guilty because I am grateful I now have a job.  I work with good people and that is a blessing and even though it is only a contract until September 2018 I at least feel safe until then and that helps.  I have an apartment with an amazing view of the city.  Its old inside, paint peeling, fixtures from the early 60’s but I have made it my space and it is pretty cosy. I get out and about more often and even though I still would prefer to be elsewhere, like Sydney or even Chicago, at this time it is good to be in the city. I have some freedom again, not locked up in a little room miles from everything, isolated, down and unable to afford to get out and see my sons let alone anywhere else, living with a loud, selfish and quite mad mother whom I now just pity more often than not.

I see my sons regularly and at this time with my eldest sons disease now taking everything from him it is where I need to be.  After spending the day with him yesterday and watching him trapped in his body, with his eyesight going now too…I looked into those beautiful eyes as I held him and I felt utterly shattered. I cried in front of him (and that is not done in my book, I always try to keep him happy) and apologised that this was happening to him and I felt so helpless…it was the worst feeling in the world. It makes the pain, hell and damage I felt from that narcissistic bastard of 2 years ago pale in comparison.

And Yank 2. We are still friends. We had agreed about a year ago to keep things at that level but somehow it escalated it again and only a week ago we were talking about first me going over there for a couple of weeks and then it changed to him coming here, well, to Sydney at least where his brother is.  Where we would finally meet in the physical sense. We have had months of the most amazing connection, skyping regularly every week, I think the love and care was just palpable. Plenty of laughs and good discussions. But we are both quite flawed individuals. I am probably more prone to admitting that than he.

I stopped writing also because I felt it difficult to tell this story and put it out there in public without repercussions. People knowing or realising who I am talking about. The Italian hated it and yet read my posts especially about him constantly. Alot of people want privacy yet have no problem with social media posts, selfies and yank 3 used to say he liked reading about himself in my posts! But he’s a crazy funny bastard and is quite happy with himself. He has left Guam now and is back in the States, Texas I think after a short time in Colorado. He pops up now and again, sends me something funny on Messenger but we are not Facebook friends. I try to restrict that and at times I find I need to pull away from the constant chatter of FB and as I have said before the apparent ‘perfect lives’ everyone seems to be having on there. Even Instagram which people now seem to use more often is just one photo of peoples wonderful lives after another I am surprised there aren’t shots of them wiping there arses on the toilet with happy smiles!

Its the way of the world now. Adapt or go mad!

I just realised it has taken me hours to write this. I have stopped along the way to cry, think,  remember. Try make sense of things. Try put some clarity into a head and body that is tired and muddled. But that is today.

Love and whitelight xx