tears of

As the tears run down my face like a turbulent river, I don't even know why I'm crying. I mean, I do - there are several reasons, but nothing makes much sense right now. And I often wonder when people speak of tears of happiness if that really exists. I've had tears of sadness, being overwhelmed, and undeclared, but I don't think I've ever cried out of sheer joy or happiness. Even at my wedding, where my heart was bursting with elation, I didn't cry. But now it seems a day doesn't go by when I'm not in tears for some unpleasant reason. I even cried last night when watching the ending of How I Met Your Mother - a show I rarely even watch. Why did they have to make the mother die? They could've just gotten a freakin' divorce. I guess I'm overwhelmed right now. We have zero income, a high rent, and many bills, not to even mention health insurance issues. Between my chronic body pain and constant depression, I'm a bloody mess. And I'm also censoring myself. For instance, I would've written "I'm an F*&()^% mess" but I've been told that I've been writing/posting a bit too crazily lately. But I am who I am, right? I'm trying. I'm trying to not be a puddle of sludge, but that's what I feel like. I know other people are going through much worse trials than I/we are, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong to feel wrong. Right? I started this blog with the intention of just writing to write, to practice, to be able to really call myself a writer, but it's turned into a journal of negativity. I'm trying not to be so negative. I'm trying to keep on truckin' - nothing left to do but smile smile smile. But even that phrase makes me a little sad b/c it's from a Grateful Dead song called He's Gone and that title alone has a lot of variant meanings to me right now. Maybe this can turn into one of those ultra depressing memoirs that people are writing these days to make other people feel better about themselves. Hey, at least you don't have to deal with X, Y, Z, 1, 2, 3; but this is what I'm going through right now. I got fired from a job with no heads up, no explanation and really no reasonable, um, reason. And a person who claimed to be my friend who was involved has done nothing to help the situation except try to excuse herself from blame. I was blown sideways. I expected them to extend my contract, due to scheduling, not fire me, rudely, on a Monday afternoon at 4:00 pm. I lost out on a month's income, which was a lot of money...then probably less than a week later, came the vicious claims against my husband, none of which are anywhere close to the truth. He's being punished, severely, for being a kind and gentle soul. Tears of anger....Just got back from an almost 10 day visit with my ailing father, who is weaker and weaker by the day. And had to endure hours upon hours of his wife's yammering about everything and nothing. I mean, she's an intelligent lady, but she's completely un-self-aware and thinks I want to hear stories about her early days with my dad...which occurred while he was still married to my mother. No, thank you, I don't care about your shitty kids, with whom she talks multiple times a day. Hmmm, something's not right with that. You need to talk to your daughter 3-5 times per day? Really? Tears of frustration....No, I don't want to hear about your eldest son who's stupid as a box of rocks and used to do unseemly things involving someone very close to me when this person was a child. No touching that I know of, but other, indecent and horrible things, that she either doesn't know about or is in denial about. Yeah bitch, your kids ain't perfect. Tears of bitterness....No wonder I'm always craving salt - I lose most of it onto my face.... I'm trying to deal with the unacceptable fact that another person very close to me is losing his battle with the violent demons of addiction that he's been fighting for over 15 years. Darkness surrounds him as he constantly weathers storms that are sometimes his fault and sometimes not his fault. Sometimes it's the Darkness that is killing him. Sometimes it's the drugs and alcohol. Sometimes it's the self-hatred, sometimes it's the guilt that doesn't belong. Tears of helplessness.... I'm writing all this to get some release for my soul, not because I want pity. I feel pitted beneath the weight of mountains sometimes, which my faith is too weak to move. Tears of ineptness....

Zero inspiration

Zero inspiration is what I have right now. Not to write. Not to work (if I had it). Not to exercise (but when have I ever?). I only want to listen to Bobby Weir's beautiful voice streaming through my headphones. I wish Jerry and the Dead were still around. I can't believe it's been almost 19 years since Jerry died. I knew I would never wane in my love for that band, and seeing/hearing Bobby again recently renewed that fire. He still sings like an angel, even if he dresses like a homeless person. I don't care. I just want to listen to him sing...It brings joy to my heart and a smile to my lips, which doesn't happen very often these days. I've had some horrible things happen to me in the past, but I also used to have a lot of fun and thrilling times. I don't get that thrill anymore and it brings me down. I need a break from this constant depression. I need a break from living in Atlanta and I've only been here a year and a half. I need a break from being in my 40s. I need the thrills of dating rock stars, going on Dead tour, seeing live music several nights a week and dancing like a noodle in boiling water. I need the thrill of jumping out of an airplane, of dancing on stage with the Grateful Dead, the fast pace of LA, and working in the TV industry. I've done some very cool things in my life, which should replace all the bad memories, but they don't. I'm too busy living in my head, reliving even high school parties and always drinking too much (not saying I want to drink like I used to though...I was a problem drinker). I need the thrill of going to Autzen Stadium with my stah to watch our Ducks play, having happy hours every Thursday, and becoming a vegetarian. I need to DO things. We just don't have the money I wish we had to do what I need to do. And honestly, I can't live my life doing all these things without some income. Ahh to be an heiress. I don't just want to do these things, I need to do these things. Jerry is dead so I'll never feel that anticipation and pure ecstasy of a Grateful Dead show. Phish and My Morning Jacket and Bobby are close, but it's just not the same. I am not in my 20s anymore, so I can't go out drinking and partying like I used to. The absolutely best, most thrilling thing in my life is my marriage to my soul mate. And I'm not complaining about my marriage...except perhaps that I keep seeming to try and sabotage it somehow. He is the best thing to ever happen to me, dancing onstage with the Grateful Dead be damned. Though that's second for sure...I'm just scared. Scared of getting old. Scared of being bored. Scared of my loved ones dying or dying myself. Scared of all the shit in this world and that has dulled me to the core. They say money can't buy happiness, but being wealthy with my husband would absolutely make me happy. I think. Maybe I'm not meant to be happy. Uh oh. I'm getting into the Victim stage right now. Sorry....changing subjects to....I got a blank space where my mind should be (Phish)... What a shitty entry.

he looks different

He looks different now. He looks...old. His head is shaved. His skin is pallid. He looks tired, worn-out, exhausted and heartbroken. He's often lost in thought. You would be too if you had a death sentence hanging over your head. My dad, like many others, has cancer. It started in his prostate - he went to three specialists who told him it couldn't be cancer because of a radical procedure he had a few years prior to his diagnosis. By that time, he started slurring his words and couldn't see straight. His girlfriend, now wife, took him to the ER only to find out he had a large brain tumor. But the docs weren't worried. They said it was so big and in such an odd place that it couldn't be cancer. Wrong again. So now it's spread to his brain...then all the bones from his pelvis up...then to his kidney. Cancer is eating him alive. Did I mention what he does for a living? He's an oncologist/hematologist. Yup. He's spent his entire life helping other people deal with this terrible, horrifying, destructive disease and now it's slowly taking his life...We do feel blessed, as his initial prognosis was 1-2 years, and he's been around a little over 3 years. That, to me, is miraculous. He still works two days a week, but they're about to take that away from him b/c they need a full-time doc. What will he do then? He's lost his ability to do most of the things he loved to do - playing golf being one of the biggest. He can't travel much, can't walk too far, can't stand too long, can't sleep because of the incredible pain and the nausea from the chemo. Doesn't have much of an appetite. Doesn't even enjoy the sports that used to occupy much of his time - his beloved Packers and Wisconsin Badgers. But he is the strongest fighter I know. He does as much as he can, makes plans for the future and really rarely complains. He is an inspiration of the greatest kind to me....I'm trying. I'm trying to stay upbeat when I get to visit him. I'm trying to help him, but not too much - he's a very proud and stubborn man too. I'm trying to stay in the Now, enjoy the time I'm being blessed with him and stop thinking so much about the coming weeks, months, years. I'm trying to cut back on the tears I shed for him, the sobs that shatter my body. I'm trying to stop being in my head so much that I'm missing out on what's happening now. He lives in South Carolina and we're here now, my husband and I. Here Now. Making new memories. Sharing stories; he loves to talk about growing up and his high school and college years...Then he shares a story about one of the many nights I didn't come home because I was too drunk (though he didn't know that) and he was so worried he shut down his office and went down to the bar I was last seen at, which was by the Ohio river. He said, "If she's in there, I want to be the one to find her." I had no idea he had done that. I remember the night vividly though I can't recall how old I was. Weirdest part was that it wasn't the first time I'd stayed out all night without calling. My mom was a mess too. I feel awful about that and lots of other things I've done in my life that caused them panic, shame or anger. I'm trying not to do that anymore...though I am a 40+ year old, I know I can still cause pain. And still do.