There is never a good time to cut yourself and it seems to doing so in the midst of a pandemic would not be seen as optimal.
Who wants to go to the ER where you have a greater likelihood of encountering the people you have tried to avoid running into through the magic of social media.
Besides if you have socks, rubber bands and a way to keep things clean plus a dab of Gorilla Glue there is all sorts of nifty ways to manage things.
My daughter distracted me by telling me she wanted to discuss what sort of pie or dessert I want for Fathers Day but only briefly because the reminder of what day is coming sent me elsewhere.
I tried to stay focused on her, she is an excellent cook and baker but Fathers Day echoed in my head.
It seems impossible this will mark the second Fathers Day without Dad and years 14 and 9 without my grandfathers.
Dad not being here is harder because they essentially outlived him by 20 years and that seems unfair which makes me laugh because Dad was an expert at pointing out life is isn’t fair.
A friend died a few days ago and he was only 45, that is unfair. Dad lived long enough to see us all married and in our lives.
Life has repeatedly shown me how little control we have of some things because our genetics are our genetics and there is only so much you can do to manage such things.
Been in the middle of some pretty stressful stuff and it must have impacted me harder than I realized because in my dream I had a heart attack.
I knew what was going on and felt a mixture of anger and fear because I was alone and I knew I needed to get help but I could barely move.
Couldn’t get enough air into my lungs to scream and so I dragged myself in the direction of a door and then I woke up.
Discovered I had been sleeping on my arm which is probably part of why I felt so damn helpless because it was numb and for a moment unresponsive.
My chest hurt a bit and I lay there for a moment trying to figure out if it was a fragment of the dream or reality.
When my arm came to I rolled out of bed and banged out a couple sets of pushups and decided it was nothing but stress.
“Sometimes you have to carry that weight. You have beaten every bad day you have ever had.”
I could hear him say it and could almost smell his cologne. I remembered giving him a smart ass remark, “we beat every bad day until we don’t” followed by that icy glare he would give you when you irritated him.
I know/knew it well.
My middle sister likes to tell my kids I didn’t finish most meals at the table because I found ways to motivate grandpa to ask me to leave.
There might be some truth in that, might be some exaggeration.
Sort of like when I stood in front of the mirror and told death that if he comes for me he better not miss and he better not give me a chance to fight back.
Reminds me of sitting in a hospital with Grandpa Wilner, listening to his stories and his telling me if he got a clean shot at death he was still capable.
He was 90 something.
Sometimes people remark on my not being particularly emotional and comment on not seeing me cry. I don’t know why they want or need to.
Dad and I were very matter-of-fact about some things. Every living being will die, myself included.
I intend to keep running until I haven’t the ability and or desire to and though I say I expect to be around until 130 I may not be.
There is going to be a hard stop which is why sometimes I get aggravated about action or lack thereof in some areas.
Since we don’t know how long our threads are we are always at risk of them being cut prior to our doing all that we wish.
Given the long list of things that I want to do there is a pretty good chance I will leave some things on the table which is why we have to divide them into the bucket and fuck it lists but that is a different post.
Time to walk away from this electronic ball and chain as I have given enough to it today. Time for shutting down and thinking about next steps or just listening to music.
Done enough typing and am ready to let the words rest and me too.