At what point do you bypass all societal guilt and simply act to protect yourself from crazies?
Here is what I mean. In the last few years, I've been getting SCHOOLED in dealing with people with mental disorders. It must be a lesson I have to learn, something karmic that I need to understand. Whatever the reason, it's happened over and over, and the only thing I really understand about it is that I can't handle crazy people. Shunning them is an act of self-preservation. And yet, when I read the news and see the horrible things that crazy people do, I can't help but wonder: should I be trying to help them more? At the expense of my own mental health?
Here is the answer I keep coming back to: NO.
Years ago, I embarked on a meditation experiment based on Lovingkindness Meditation. There is a book by Sharon Salzberg if you'd like to check it out. Basically, it uses 4 phrases for you to wish yourself and others well:
May I be free from danger
May I have physical happiness
May I have mental happiness
May I have ease of well-being
Substitute "I" for "you" or "we" as time progresses. First, focus on yourself, wishing yourself these things. Then, focus on a friend. Then, a stranger. Finally, a "challenging person." When you have covered all the bases, the question posed is, if you were in a situation where someone's life would be lost, who would you choose? Would you sacrifice yourself or choose another? The answer is that each life is equal after the exercise, and it's impossible to choose.
So... crazies. I had one last year who wanted to relay to me all the adventures she'd had stalking a guy who was possibly mildly interested in her, at the expense of her estranged husband and confused young children, over a number of states. Somehow, a decade ago, she'd taken on the responsibility of being a wife and mother without really committing to it, and now she was feeling like she'd missed something big and envied my single, never-married life (Snort! Scoff! I told her from the start that she had a house full of people who loved her, and I didn't have anything like that. It pales in comparison to being able to finish a book in a timely manner, which she seemed to want a whole lot).
One day, I interrupted one of her soliloquies (So I saw him in traffic, and he wasn't where he said he was supposed to be, so I followed him, and it looked like he went to so-and-so's house, which I didn't like and why didn't he tell me? Then later, at 9:53, he posted a comment on Facebook to his OLD GIRLFRIEND some flirty thing about whatever, and I was like WHOA, man, what are you doing? What about our relationship?) I was starting to suspect that their "relationship" was mostly a figment of her imagination supplemented by stalking (did I mention she's quit her job and moved several states over to "date"this guy?) So I said, "Stop, stop, stop, I can't listen to this anymore. I just can't do it. I don't have the energy to listen to this. I need to take care of myself."
Later on, she did something that I can only describe as "throw my sister under the bus." That was when I bowed out entirely, and said I needed a break from hearing from her. (Honestly, when I get to that point, I am done with someone since I'm such a champion grudge-holder, but I didn't want to sound so final.)
Last night, my "sister" asked me if I am in touch at all with the person described above. I told her no.
We hear all the time that people who walk into a room with a weapon like a knife or a gun and murder a bunch of school children are insane and socially isolated. And I must admit that I am responsible for isolating some people who've come in to my life and tried to latch on to me.
I remember something Wayne Dyer wrote: that people at the same level of consciousness tend to migrate toward each other and befriend each other. Sometimes you have to bid farewell to certain friends/people whose energy pulls you down to move forward in life.
I once looked at the tableau of people blowing up my cell phone, who were spouting things to me like: "Pay attention to me! I need your attention! Listen to my drama! Let me talk you out of having any goals in life so I won't feel inadequate! Let me bring you down with my crappy attitude! Let me try to turn you against someone else we know by harping on all of his/her terrible qualities! And if you don't let me do any and all of these things, you are a bad person! Shame on you! My drama and I need attention and YOU are a bad friend if you don't want to pay attention!"
It occurred to me that Wayne Dyer doesn't hang out with people hooked on prescription drugs who wallow in their depression and make their friends feel bad about trying to improve their lives. Wayne Dyer doesn't hang out with mentally unhealthy people who are in denial and refuse to have their illnesses treated. Wayne Dyer and most ex-Catholics understand what low-level weapons guilt and shame can be.
I've had to let several people go, with well wishes. I wonder what they are doing now, although I don't want to check in on them! I suspect one is in a house full of junk and garbage, getting old before her time, suspicious of everyone around her, and afraid to get treatment for her mental illness. Another is taking medicine for her physical symptoms but may not ever get treatment for her mental problems. Another one, a man, has a good government job now and probably can't get fired from it, so no matter how much he forgets to bathe, brush his teeth and comb his hair, he'll be able to put on airs that he's some sort of masters-level intellectual indefinitely. Another man, who's 36 years old now, will be a dependent for his sister or his mother for the rest of their lives, and who knows where he'll live or what he'll do or if he'll have any more violent outbursts. Since he's been arrested, the legal system is keeping track of him, so perhaps that will force his hand when it comes to diagnosis and treatment.
I don't know what the solution to all the crazies out there is, but I've gotta say: I know I can't fix them!
I hope this note finds you well. Have a great week!
Jane
Sunday, 27 January 2013
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Hilarity has ensued
Top of the morning to you, friends, and happy new year! 2013 promises to be a great new challenge and adventure!
I am learning more, each day, about my new relationship. I am amazed that things are going as well as they are. I used to half-jokingly say, "I can't date under these conditions!" but the truth was, I haven't had this much raw material to work with in a long time. Astrologer Susan Miller wrote an article about how we had Neptune in Aquarius for 14 years; it just moved to Pisces in February 2012. Anyway, it turned matchmaking into a business and people's skills, youth, earnings, and appearance in the personal realm into currency. She interviewed someone from a major business (like eHarmony or Match) who said that they could do so much more for their members to help them find compatible people rather than just fling hundreds of single people's profiles at them. I tried that, and I didn't like it. It seemed so meaningless and pointless. I remember the dropoff of fun in the dating realm that I observed back in 1998. Yes, 1998. And that's when Neptune moved into Aquarius.
Of course, my past boyfriends have fallen into a few categories: motivated at work and posting for jobs away from me, without consulting me or including me in their plans; up-front about not planning a future with me, and being some sort of hiking buddy/ dining companion; and there was, famously, that crazy one who wanted to be my economic dependent. He was the one most interested in marriage (of course).
But it's a new day and a new relationship, and now I have someone who is dependable and kind and wonderful who wants to share his future with me. Of course, we live near different oceans. But I figure, in a way, that it's better to start out apart and figure out how to be together than go about things in the seemingly rational but totally ineffective way I dated locally before. Besides, it's quality of time, not quantity. I'd rather be with him than go out into the dating world.
A good friend of mine from the old days, whom I saw on Christmas Eve, listened to my explanation of why I'm dating someone 3 time zones away, and said to me, "Well, you're supposed to find someone so that you don't have to date anymore." Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Said like a Smug Married from the Bridget Jones books. I mean, duh.
I remember reading this article about Neptune in Pisces early this year and discussing it with Diva. I know I said, "I don't believe it. Dating has sucked for me for 15 years. I can't believe it will ever do anything but keep on sucking."
So, you can imagine what a shock this is. I have to basically embrace a new reality to figure out my future with Mr. Wonderful.
It really is the end of the world! ;)
Love,
Jane
I am learning more, each day, about my new relationship. I am amazed that things are going as well as they are. I used to half-jokingly say, "I can't date under these conditions!" but the truth was, I haven't had this much raw material to work with in a long time. Astrologer Susan Miller wrote an article about how we had Neptune in Aquarius for 14 years; it just moved to Pisces in February 2012. Anyway, it turned matchmaking into a business and people's skills, youth, earnings, and appearance in the personal realm into currency. She interviewed someone from a major business (like eHarmony or Match) who said that they could do so much more for their members to help them find compatible people rather than just fling hundreds of single people's profiles at them. I tried that, and I didn't like it. It seemed so meaningless and pointless. I remember the dropoff of fun in the dating realm that I observed back in 1998. Yes, 1998. And that's when Neptune moved into Aquarius.
Of course, my past boyfriends have fallen into a few categories: motivated at work and posting for jobs away from me, without consulting me or including me in their plans; up-front about not planning a future with me, and being some sort of hiking buddy/ dining companion; and there was, famously, that crazy one who wanted to be my economic dependent. He was the one most interested in marriage (of course).
But it's a new day and a new relationship, and now I have someone who is dependable and kind and wonderful who wants to share his future with me. Of course, we live near different oceans. But I figure, in a way, that it's better to start out apart and figure out how to be together than go about things in the seemingly rational but totally ineffective way I dated locally before. Besides, it's quality of time, not quantity. I'd rather be with him than go out into the dating world.
A good friend of mine from the old days, whom I saw on Christmas Eve, listened to my explanation of why I'm dating someone 3 time zones away, and said to me, "Well, you're supposed to find someone so that you don't have to date anymore." Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Said like a Smug Married from the Bridget Jones books. I mean, duh.
I remember reading this article about Neptune in Pisces early this year and discussing it with Diva. I know I said, "I don't believe it. Dating has sucked for me for 15 years. I can't believe it will ever do anything but keep on sucking."
So, you can imagine what a shock this is. I have to basically embrace a new reality to figure out my future with Mr. Wonderful.
It really is the end of the world! ;)
Love,
Jane
Saturday, 3 November 2012
So, is it "ask and you shall receive" or "askin' ain't gettin"?
Diva and I have bonded over the fact that on the one hand, things are out in the world for your taking, and on the other hand, there are people and situations that like to play keep-away with you.
Right now, I'm dating someone who is truly generous and kind. It sounds great, but let me tell you, it takes some getting used to. How am I supposed to transition from relationships where I felt like I was some inconvenience to the guy to being in a relationship where he actually wants to know how I'm doing? The answer, of course, is to transition as gracefully as possible.
Due to some health setbacks and subsequent pharmaceutical intake this year (doctor-supervised, of course), I have only some fuzzy memories of dating before now, but unlike the pictures, which have faded, the feelings are still with me.
One of my exes (Tim), who is a good guy in all fairness, called me up a few weeks ago. He was traveling through town and wanted to meet for lunch, so we did. It was the first time he'd ever driven to me. In all the time we dated, I always had to go to his house. Given, his truck was twice as expensive to gas up as my car, and I worked in his town anyway, so I was already there all the time, but it was always up to me to go see him. (In time, he became too immobilized to send me a text or call; our dating relationship kind of evaporated.) Contrast this with my current beau, who got on a plane to come see me. He rented a car, booked a place for us to stay in a beautiful town by the coast, and showed up. Excuse me, what? Men are capable of doing such things? Yes, apparently they are, when they are motivated.
Once upon a time, when I was dating Iceberg, I tried to hang on to a dying relationship by moving closer to where he'd relocated for work. It wasn't a total disaster... well, as far as our relationship went it was, but I had other things and people there so there was somewhere I could turn for fun and friendship. Instead of being greeted upon my arrival, he angrily talked into his phone about how he had to work the next day and didn't have time to come see me. He didn't invite me to come see him, although I had nothing to do for the week before school started. He didn't want anything to do with me. I don't remember if we had any awkward encounters or not after I arrived (blame the pharmaceuticals) but I remember feeling very much turned away. We were kaput a few weeks after that.
His roommate, whom we can call St. Adam because he was just that nice, said to me when the relationship was falling apart, "This just isn't right. If my girlfriend were here, I'd want to spend time with her. I'd get off the couch and leave the video games alone. It comes down to... social skills." St. Adam was the first person to use the phrase "social skills" in regular conversation with me, but he wasn't the last. I sent St. Adam a present when he got married; I'm sure he is a great husband. He called me to say thanks, and when I asked (out of obligation) how Iceberg was doing, he said, "Oh, he's right where you left him, playing video games on the couch."
I knew how to pick some winners, but of course they never started out that way. I had more than one person say to me that it was my own lack of imagination, my lack of asking for what I wanted, that was the root of the problem. The reason why I kept attracting these lame guys was because I just didn't have the imaginative capacity to know what it was like to be with a good one.
Now just because I can't give you an exact description doesn't mean I won't know it when I see it. I fell IN LOVE with my car, for example, the first time I saw it; had to have it. If you'd asked me the week before what kind of car I wanted, would I have described it exactly as it ended up being? No. That's the issue I have with all this mumbo-jumbo. I've met a few friends over the course of my life who've made an instant and great impression on me, and as I got to know them, I realized how easy it was to spend time with them, and how loving and cool they were in return. I didn't go into those situations with mental images or drawings of who I would meet or having rehearsed in meditation what it would feel like to meet a great person. I showed up, and there they were. I think that's really simple.
And then we have to tackle the opposite issue. If "ask and you shall receive" works so well, then what about "askin' ain't gettin"? I borrowed this from Gone with the Wind; it's one of my favorite movies. Excuse me, I am not a world-famous novelist married to a rock star, having retired from a madcap dancing career as a Radio City Music Hall Rockette. That is the only future I envisioned for myself when I was younger. Sure, maybe I could have been an actress instead of a Rockette. Perhaps I could have ended up with Daniel Craig instead of a rock star. But you get the gist of it, right? I didn't think beyond 1) having a glamourous life and 2) what life would be like after age 35. But there you have it- here we are. My life is not glamourous. Up until recently, I spent time dating guys who were incapable of sending a text or making a phone call after a few months of dating. The torpor would take them over and they'd just kind of get sucked into the couch or whatever.
And I'm left wondering, does it come down to the raw materials? Some people stand the test of time and others don't. It's not a judgment, just an observation. Some relationships grow out of a mutual desire to be friends, to know each other better, to spend time together. Others that don't need to be weeded out over time. Now, I don't mean to sound high-maintenance about it, as in, "I just can't work under these conditions!" But sometimes, you just don't have enough raw materials to make something.
And sometimes you do. But now the lesson I have to learn is, what do you do when he actually wants to be a part of your life? How exactly does that work?
Yours,
Jane
Right now, I'm dating someone who is truly generous and kind. It sounds great, but let me tell you, it takes some getting used to. How am I supposed to transition from relationships where I felt like I was some inconvenience to the guy to being in a relationship where he actually wants to know how I'm doing? The answer, of course, is to transition as gracefully as possible.
Due to some health setbacks and subsequent pharmaceutical intake this year (doctor-supervised, of course), I have only some fuzzy memories of dating before now, but unlike the pictures, which have faded, the feelings are still with me.
One of my exes (Tim), who is a good guy in all fairness, called me up a few weeks ago. He was traveling through town and wanted to meet for lunch, so we did. It was the first time he'd ever driven to me. In all the time we dated, I always had to go to his house. Given, his truck was twice as expensive to gas up as my car, and I worked in his town anyway, so I was already there all the time, but it was always up to me to go see him. (In time, he became too immobilized to send me a text or call; our dating relationship kind of evaporated.) Contrast this with my current beau, who got on a plane to come see me. He rented a car, booked a place for us to stay in a beautiful town by the coast, and showed up. Excuse me, what? Men are capable of doing such things? Yes, apparently they are, when they are motivated.
Once upon a time, when I was dating Iceberg, I tried to hang on to a dying relationship by moving closer to where he'd relocated for work. It wasn't a total disaster... well, as far as our relationship went it was, but I had other things and people there so there was somewhere I could turn for fun and friendship. Instead of being greeted upon my arrival, he angrily talked into his phone about how he had to work the next day and didn't have time to come see me. He didn't invite me to come see him, although I had nothing to do for the week before school started. He didn't want anything to do with me. I don't remember if we had any awkward encounters or not after I arrived (blame the pharmaceuticals) but I remember feeling very much turned away. We were kaput a few weeks after that.
His roommate, whom we can call St. Adam because he was just that nice, said to me when the relationship was falling apart, "This just isn't right. If my girlfriend were here, I'd want to spend time with her. I'd get off the couch and leave the video games alone. It comes down to... social skills." St. Adam was the first person to use the phrase "social skills" in regular conversation with me, but he wasn't the last. I sent St. Adam a present when he got married; I'm sure he is a great husband. He called me to say thanks, and when I asked (out of obligation) how Iceberg was doing, he said, "Oh, he's right where you left him, playing video games on the couch."
I knew how to pick some winners, but of course they never started out that way. I had more than one person say to me that it was my own lack of imagination, my lack of asking for what I wanted, that was the root of the problem. The reason why I kept attracting these lame guys was because I just didn't have the imaginative capacity to know what it was like to be with a good one.
Now just because I can't give you an exact description doesn't mean I won't know it when I see it. I fell IN LOVE with my car, for example, the first time I saw it; had to have it. If you'd asked me the week before what kind of car I wanted, would I have described it exactly as it ended up being? No. That's the issue I have with all this mumbo-jumbo. I've met a few friends over the course of my life who've made an instant and great impression on me, and as I got to know them, I realized how easy it was to spend time with them, and how loving and cool they were in return. I didn't go into those situations with mental images or drawings of who I would meet or having rehearsed in meditation what it would feel like to meet a great person. I showed up, and there they were. I think that's really simple.
And then we have to tackle the opposite issue. If "ask and you shall receive" works so well, then what about "askin' ain't gettin"? I borrowed this from Gone with the Wind; it's one of my favorite movies. Excuse me, I am not a world-famous novelist married to a rock star, having retired from a madcap dancing career as a Radio City Music Hall Rockette. That is the only future I envisioned for myself when I was younger. Sure, maybe I could have been an actress instead of a Rockette. Perhaps I could have ended up with Daniel Craig instead of a rock star. But you get the gist of it, right? I didn't think beyond 1) having a glamourous life and 2) what life would be like after age 35. But there you have it- here we are. My life is not glamourous. Up until recently, I spent time dating guys who were incapable of sending a text or making a phone call after a few months of dating. The torpor would take them over and they'd just kind of get sucked into the couch or whatever.
And I'm left wondering, does it come down to the raw materials? Some people stand the test of time and others don't. It's not a judgment, just an observation. Some relationships grow out of a mutual desire to be friends, to know each other better, to spend time together. Others that don't need to be weeded out over time. Now, I don't mean to sound high-maintenance about it, as in, "I just can't work under these conditions!" But sometimes, you just don't have enough raw materials to make something.
And sometimes you do. But now the lesson I have to learn is, what do you do when he actually wants to be a part of your life? How exactly does that work?
Yours,
Jane
Saturday, 6 October 2012
What is love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more...
Diva and I have talked a lot about love lately. There's been a lot to discuss, whether it's my foray back into dating (with imported talented based somewhere else- he is a fantastic guy and very easy to love) or her dream about a connection she had with someone years ago.
She can tell you about the dream, if she wants. I've asked her to write about it, whether it's on this blog or just in her own personal journal. But I can tell you about my newest adventure.
I'm having an undefined relationship (he calls it "trying to date from across the country" and other such things) with an old crush of mine. We met when we were about 16 and 18, respectively. I liked him then, but in retrospect I was probably a bit hot-headed back in those days and wanted to be independent no matter what. Maybe it's good that we didn't date when I was younger; I don't know. By now, we have both mellowed out considerably. He is divorced and I have never married, although I've had a few long relationships that always ended up with me being single again (and sometimes shouting, "Free at last!")
During the ride through the wringer called 2012 (so far), which has included over 2 months of illness, financial woes, numerous work problems, and storm damage to my property (worth half of what I paid for it), I decided it was time to just hang my problems out to dry. It's just gotten to the point where life is ridiculous and impossible to take seriously. If I try to solve all of these problems on my own, I'm just going to give myself a heart attack or an ulcer or something else that will make me miss work, lose out on earnings as well as happiness, and generally not enjoy life. So, I'm taking what I think is a wise approach: making time to see or talk to friends as often as I can, doing what I can to handle the issues at work and with my money, and having as many lost weekends as possible. I think it's best for my own sanity.
One such lost weekend took place with my beau recently. I could not have scripted any more fun than what we had. I know, after 20 years, that he's changed, but in a way he's exactly who he was. That doesn't get lost as you age. It seems that he has more words for what's going on than I do. I just told him, "I like you a lot. And that's all I've got!" meaning I don't know what else to say about it.
But in the realms of what is considered to be traditional love, one of my siblings was engaged to be married this week. I am happy for both of them. They've had a short courtship but I don't see any reason to worry about that. Love is love. I'm happy that they are both excited about taking the plunge.
Finally, you can't talk about love without talking about love beyond one's life. A good friend of mine lost her dog this week. She is upset, to say the least. She is friends with a medium, who was able to see the dog on the other side with my friend's grandmother. While that is comforting, it doesn't take away the loss of the animal in your life.
In Don Juan DeMarco, our boyfriend Johnny Depp's character said this about love: There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.
Ahhhh, love.
Have a great weekend!
-Jane
She can tell you about the dream, if she wants. I've asked her to write about it, whether it's on this blog or just in her own personal journal. But I can tell you about my newest adventure.
I'm having an undefined relationship (he calls it "trying to date from across the country" and other such things) with an old crush of mine. We met when we were about 16 and 18, respectively. I liked him then, but in retrospect I was probably a bit hot-headed back in those days and wanted to be independent no matter what. Maybe it's good that we didn't date when I was younger; I don't know. By now, we have both mellowed out considerably. He is divorced and I have never married, although I've had a few long relationships that always ended up with me being single again (and sometimes shouting, "Free at last!")
During the ride through the wringer called 2012 (so far), which has included over 2 months of illness, financial woes, numerous work problems, and storm damage to my property (worth half of what I paid for it), I decided it was time to just hang my problems out to dry. It's just gotten to the point where life is ridiculous and impossible to take seriously. If I try to solve all of these problems on my own, I'm just going to give myself a heart attack or an ulcer or something else that will make me miss work, lose out on earnings as well as happiness, and generally not enjoy life. So, I'm taking what I think is a wise approach: making time to see or talk to friends as often as I can, doing what I can to handle the issues at work and with my money, and having as many lost weekends as possible. I think it's best for my own sanity.
One such lost weekend took place with my beau recently. I could not have scripted any more fun than what we had. I know, after 20 years, that he's changed, but in a way he's exactly who he was. That doesn't get lost as you age. It seems that he has more words for what's going on than I do. I just told him, "I like you a lot. And that's all I've got!" meaning I don't know what else to say about it.
But in the realms of what is considered to be traditional love, one of my siblings was engaged to be married this week. I am happy for both of them. They've had a short courtship but I don't see any reason to worry about that. Love is love. I'm happy that they are both excited about taking the plunge.
Finally, you can't talk about love without talking about love beyond one's life. A good friend of mine lost her dog this week. She is upset, to say the least. She is friends with a medium, who was able to see the dog on the other side with my friend's grandmother. While that is comforting, it doesn't take away the loss of the animal in your life.
In Don Juan DeMarco, our boyfriend Johnny Depp's character said this about love: There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.
Ahhhh, love.
Have a great weekend!
-Jane
Saturday, 8 September 2012
In Search of Grace, Again
Managing a disease is a long-term activity. When something like this pops up in your life, it's a shock. Then later, when you're keeping on with your keeping on, these reminders of your old life pop up all over the place. It's humbling. It's hard to look at sometimes. Well, it's hard to look at most of the time.
I used to be one of those really organized people who had everything done by bedtime. Maybe I was cranky as hell, maybe I was tired and stressed by the time I got to bed, but by gosh, I didn't wake up to a mess. Stuff got done. Bills were paid on time. I was a freaking superhero, now that I think of it.
I'd always have projects going on. You know how much I like to write... well, I also love to act. Plus, there's the fun of going out to support my friends: musicians, actors, artists. It was a busy life but it was good. Time with friends, work (usually not the most meaningful pastime, but I always had something to bring money in the door), and these artistic pursuits kept me busy. Somehow I got the laundry done and got myself fed often enough. It was a different life.
Managing my disease means a lot of cooking. I have to have special food that's low in sodium, free of caffeine and alcohol (that's right, no more rum and coke!) and wheat-free. Dear God. I tell my friends it's like I have a part-time job cooking for myself.
I miss the days when I could go to Subway and order a BMT, for crap's sake.
My friend Rob posts pictures on Facebook of his old life, when he could drink. He had to have a heart transplant, and gave up drinking at least a decade ago. When we were friends (who hung out in real life more than once a year), we'd see each other out, going dancing, drinking whatever we felt like, having fun. Those were good days. I think he would agree. But yet, we keep going. It's what you do.
So, the search for grace comes from knowing all the things that I could do and knowing that some of those things I'll never be able to do again. It seems ungrateful to keep noticing all these things that are no longer available to me, and I wonder if I should be ignoring them.
I wish I could ignore these things like I ignore the laundry that sits in the dryer for days after I've forgotten about it, like the full dishwasher with soap in it that I forgot to turn on. I wish I could ignore them like the dishes I allow to sit overnight nowadays. (They have to sit in the sink because I have yet to empty the dishwasher that I finally remembered to run earlier today, and can't be bothered to unload yet.) I am now a person who forgets things and lets things go. I don't take care of things like I used to. Part of it is because of the medication I took. I don't know if there are any other reasons for it, but there could be.
I have let things go, in both the good and bad ways. It's an effort to get bills sent on time. I am out of shape, somewhat because of the illness, but still. I shouldn't be eating pudding if I'm not the slightest bit interested in working it off later.
I've had to let go of ideas about myself that don't really apply anymore. I've stopped performing (dance, improv, and other acting) because 2 months of vertigo really put a hitch in your confidence in doing anything other than walking slowly straight ahead. I don't know if I'll ever do it again, which is sad to say. I've met so many great friends through doing community theatre. The energy of the past 5 years, though, has kept me away from it for the most part.
Tonight, I saw a musical onstage. When I was 19, I was part of the cast of the same show. I remembered the songs and the lines and some of the scenes. There I was, comparing the choreography, costumes, and musical numbers to what I'd learned all those years ago.
Well, I left in tears, wondering: Why can't I do the things I used to do?
Then I thought: Everyone goes through this. Stop whining and being a brat.
But seriously, it is hard to take.
I am trying. I really am.
-JQP
I used to be one of those really organized people who had everything done by bedtime. Maybe I was cranky as hell, maybe I was tired and stressed by the time I got to bed, but by gosh, I didn't wake up to a mess. Stuff got done. Bills were paid on time. I was a freaking superhero, now that I think of it.
I'd always have projects going on. You know how much I like to write... well, I also love to act. Plus, there's the fun of going out to support my friends: musicians, actors, artists. It was a busy life but it was good. Time with friends, work (usually not the most meaningful pastime, but I always had something to bring money in the door), and these artistic pursuits kept me busy. Somehow I got the laundry done and got myself fed often enough. It was a different life.
Managing my disease means a lot of cooking. I have to have special food that's low in sodium, free of caffeine and alcohol (that's right, no more rum and coke!) and wheat-free. Dear God. I tell my friends it's like I have a part-time job cooking for myself.
I miss the days when I could go to Subway and order a BMT, for crap's sake.
My friend Rob posts pictures on Facebook of his old life, when he could drink. He had to have a heart transplant, and gave up drinking at least a decade ago. When we were friends (who hung out in real life more than once a year), we'd see each other out, going dancing, drinking whatever we felt like, having fun. Those were good days. I think he would agree. But yet, we keep going. It's what you do.
So, the search for grace comes from knowing all the things that I could do and knowing that some of those things I'll never be able to do again. It seems ungrateful to keep noticing all these things that are no longer available to me, and I wonder if I should be ignoring them.
I wish I could ignore these things like I ignore the laundry that sits in the dryer for days after I've forgotten about it, like the full dishwasher with soap in it that I forgot to turn on. I wish I could ignore them like the dishes I allow to sit overnight nowadays. (They have to sit in the sink because I have yet to empty the dishwasher that I finally remembered to run earlier today, and can't be bothered to unload yet.) I am now a person who forgets things and lets things go. I don't take care of things like I used to. Part of it is because of the medication I took. I don't know if there are any other reasons for it, but there could be.
I have let things go, in both the good and bad ways. It's an effort to get bills sent on time. I am out of shape, somewhat because of the illness, but still. I shouldn't be eating pudding if I'm not the slightest bit interested in working it off later.
I've had to let go of ideas about myself that don't really apply anymore. I've stopped performing (dance, improv, and other acting) because 2 months of vertigo really put a hitch in your confidence in doing anything other than walking slowly straight ahead. I don't know if I'll ever do it again, which is sad to say. I've met so many great friends through doing community theatre. The energy of the past 5 years, though, has kept me away from it for the most part.
Tonight, I saw a musical onstage. When I was 19, I was part of the cast of the same show. I remembered the songs and the lines and some of the scenes. There I was, comparing the choreography, costumes, and musical numbers to what I'd learned all those years ago.
Well, I left in tears, wondering: Why can't I do the things I used to do?
Then I thought: Everyone goes through this. Stop whining and being a brat.
But seriously, it is hard to take.
I am trying. I really am.
-JQP
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
A Conversation with The Universe
JQP: Hi Universe, Jane here. I'm ready to collect on that lost weekend you promised me.
U: Oh hi, Jane! Good to hear from you. Yep, you should be all set. The only things you need are several last-minute wardrobe items, money, food for the road, and, of course, the guy.
JQP: YES! Universe, thanks so much for the guy. I never would have dreamed that was possible. Somehow, in this year of bad health and storm damage to my abode in Winterville, though, I figured something would have to go right sometime. But you have delivered me my crush from the 90s! Not Ian Astbury of the Cult, my other crush from the 90s!
(Disclaimer: Yes, I was a wee bit boycrazy then. I'm sure if people knew my true identity, they'd have all kinds of ideas about who this crush might be. Probably 20 of my mild-mannered public identity's male friends from that time period would think, Is she talking about me? Well, the answer is NO, unless you have a plane ticket to the Sunshine State and a rendezvous planned with me in a few weeks.)
U: Oooh, this is so exciting, Jane, just like the old days when you'd go traipsing across a fun exotic destination and I'd make sure you'd find plenty of adventures.
JQP: Yes, Universe! I've missed this too!
U: But you know, he's much older now.
JQP: Who? Ian Astbury or the guy?
U: Well, both.
JQP: You know, there's this guy I knew in high school who says he always remembers my crush on Ian Astbury. Whenever he sees Ian Astbury, he thinks of me.
U: Is this the guy who's coming to see you?
JQP: No, he's ummmm.... another crush from the 90s. But I could never take him seriously. He played football.
U: Oh, MY, Jane.
JQP: And you are right, we are all older.
U: And we are all exactly where we need to be, too. Remember that.
JQP: The guy wrote something to that effect to me months ago. I was having a really bad day, so it was funny to get that message from him.
U: See? I wouldn't put just anyone in your path.
JQP: Thank you so much, Universe. I can't wait to pack my bags and go!
U: Oh hi, Jane! Good to hear from you. Yep, you should be all set. The only things you need are several last-minute wardrobe items, money, food for the road, and, of course, the guy.
JQP: YES! Universe, thanks so much for the guy. I never would have dreamed that was possible. Somehow, in this year of bad health and storm damage to my abode in Winterville, though, I figured something would have to go right sometime. But you have delivered me my crush from the 90s! Not Ian Astbury of the Cult, my other crush from the 90s!
(Disclaimer: Yes, I was a wee bit boycrazy then. I'm sure if people knew my true identity, they'd have all kinds of ideas about who this crush might be. Probably 20 of my mild-mannered public identity's male friends from that time period would think, Is she talking about me? Well, the answer is NO, unless you have a plane ticket to the Sunshine State and a rendezvous planned with me in a few weeks.)
U: Oooh, this is so exciting, Jane, just like the old days when you'd go traipsing across a fun exotic destination and I'd make sure you'd find plenty of adventures.
JQP: Yes, Universe! I've missed this too!
U: But you know, he's much older now.
JQP: Who? Ian Astbury or the guy?
U: Well, both.
JQP: You know, there's this guy I knew in high school who says he always remembers my crush on Ian Astbury. Whenever he sees Ian Astbury, he thinks of me.
U: Is this the guy who's coming to see you?
JQP: No, he's ummmm.... another crush from the 90s. But I could never take him seriously. He played football.
U: Oh, MY, Jane.
JQP: And you are right, we are all older.
U: And we are all exactly where we need to be, too. Remember that.
JQP: The guy wrote something to that effect to me months ago. I was having a really bad day, so it was funny to get that message from him.
U: See? I wouldn't put just anyone in your path.
JQP: Thank you so much, Universe. I can't wait to pack my bags and go!
Sunday, 19 August 2012
It's not there yet
A few nights ago, I had a dream I was on a train.
Unlike in real life, in which I'd have my suitcase zipped, all belongings secured, and be sitting at alert attention 10 minutes before we reached the destination, I had stuff strewn all over the train car. My toiletries bag, which was see-through and orange in color, had upteen bottles and brushes and so forth, and was enormous. My suitcase was about 4 feet tall and looked ridiculous. (I am not sure about symbolism aside from the obvious implications of "big baggage" and the fact that orange is a fantastic color.)
The announcer came over the PA and said we were almost at my stop. In fact, the train stopped moments later. But when I looked outside the train, we weren't on the platform. The platform was still a small distance away.
At that point, I started to sing a song that I made up on the spot and set to work putting all my things into my bag and suitcase. It's moments like this that I wish I could invite you all into my dreams, amigos, so that you can hear my ridiculous song and perhaps sing along. It wasn't a beautiful song, but more of an informational song (I am picking up my brush, putting it in my bag, wonder why my stuff is spread all over, I might have sung). I grew up in a house of loud siblings and this is something that was done. One sibling makes up songs to encourage her children to brush their teeth, wash their hands, etc.
I packed my bag, my train moved to the platform, and it was there I got off, with my giant luggage. End of story.
In real life, I think of this as a sign. I'm going somewhere new, but I am just not there yet. I can see it but I can't reach it. My luggage (big as it may be) cannot be lugged through the grass. I have to wait until I reach the platform to get off this train.
I see this in my professional as well as personal life. I see it also with my health. I am working toward changing things for the better. And sometimes, I sing.
Unlike in real life, in which I'd have my suitcase zipped, all belongings secured, and be sitting at alert attention 10 minutes before we reached the destination, I had stuff strewn all over the train car. My toiletries bag, which was see-through and orange in color, had upteen bottles and brushes and so forth, and was enormous. My suitcase was about 4 feet tall and looked ridiculous. (I am not sure about symbolism aside from the obvious implications of "big baggage" and the fact that orange is a fantastic color.)
The announcer came over the PA and said we were almost at my stop. In fact, the train stopped moments later. But when I looked outside the train, we weren't on the platform. The platform was still a small distance away.
At that point, I started to sing a song that I made up on the spot and set to work putting all my things into my bag and suitcase. It's moments like this that I wish I could invite you all into my dreams, amigos, so that you can hear my ridiculous song and perhaps sing along. It wasn't a beautiful song, but more of an informational song (I am picking up my brush, putting it in my bag, wonder why my stuff is spread all over, I might have sung). I grew up in a house of loud siblings and this is something that was done. One sibling makes up songs to encourage her children to brush their teeth, wash their hands, etc.
I packed my bag, my train moved to the platform, and it was there I got off, with my giant luggage. End of story.
In real life, I think of this as a sign. I'm going somewhere new, but I am just not there yet. I can see it but I can't reach it. My luggage (big as it may be) cannot be lugged through the grass. I have to wait until I reach the platform to get off this train.
I see this in my professional as well as personal life. I see it also with my health. I am working toward changing things for the better. And sometimes, I sing.
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