scarcity and time
The past 24 hours have been a bit of a whirlwind–emotionally and spiritually I have been a little taxed and renewed and still feel a little lost to some things.
I realize my concept of time is not like other people’s. Not in a general this is my time, here you are but an overarching sense of accomplishment that comes generally with time passing or some recognition of landmarks. I suppose every birthday is kind of not the thing where I am like YAYYYY–I made it to another one. But I guess a mark of time that things really haven’t changed a great deal in terms of the passing of time. I am still just as unaccomplished as I was in my 20’s and 30’s–I still have the call center job. I still have had too many anniversaries to really even know anymore what to even celebrate.
But then I realize I do this with ALL things in my life. I have never been an anniversary person, you know, the person eager to mark time into landmarks–hell Don and I barely know what I guess our anniversary is–maybe 10/25/2011, but we got married in February. Not for anything but insurance, don’t forget, so the demarcation there seems not as imperative. But I literally celebrate nothing because it all seems so temporary anyways and to celebrate in the past meant trying to keep some promise I didn’t ultimately think I could make.
One thing I do find fascinating is that there is this pervasive we will survive mantra that seems to be permeating around the group and the situation…and you know, I mean, I WANT to be that girl. I want to be the person SO HUNGRY to survive it just shows…but I have had the life literally fucking stitched out, restitched and stuck out there again. I am not the eager survivor…because I AM fucking exhausted. I cannot even get anyone in my family to give a shit about their own gene pools and I literally DON’T CARE if they do have anything because they ignore me anyways so what the hell is the point? I did my job, I tried the warning, hell–I warned them back in 2001 to look for genetic issues and even today–16 years later and after an ACTUAL diagnosis–they could give a flying fuck which…honestly it makes me feel like wow, if you ignore me and something happens…I am not GOING TO EVEN SAY anything or have a word to say. And it isn’t my job to make people realize YOU COULD BE ME, dude…VERY MUCH a fucking possibility–but I do know for a fact they GENERALLY care very little for me (this being the blood relations in DENVER)–so much so that nobody has asked me or Don a thing and my friend Brenda is the only one who invited us for anything Holiday for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. And that is okay–they live in a world of savings and babies and had weddings while I am still like, um…I just want a dress, small party. I don’t have nor need a ring or like a THING. Man, the shit I want is so fucking ridiculous it would seem easy to pretty much anyone but someone in my predicament…I mean, I am realizing I am too old to have the all about me thing and that would be stupid as it would be all about us…but. GAWDDAMM, world, why do you have to be so fucking mean!?!
It’s okay…eventually, and especially now that I have access to some legitimate like for real people support…well, shit–I don’t know what the hell I even expect–but I DO know at least more than a handful know the shit rocking around my brain up here, and though anything really changing might be a lot harder to facilitate given then finances…I assume shit cannot stay terrible for life.I have no idea why I would NOT assume that, but hey, that’s me being positive, haha.
