January 26, 2006

• Sometimes I can handle it.

  I go for weeks at a time obeying, with relative ease, my mother’s
  oft-repeated injunctions to look on the bright side.  Then, a
  bunch of things pile up on me and I feel so… vulnerable… limited…
  useless… frustrated.

  • For days and daze Doug and I have watched the thermometer, with
    its readings hovering around twenty below zero.  Yesterday, he
    wondered out loud, “How long is this going to last?”  I reminded
    him that it’s January and we are in Alaska, and that when it does warm
    up it will undoubtedly snow.  That is both realistic and
    optimistic, a combination of views I like to cultivate. 

    I
    got up this morning and looked at the temp:  THIRTY below! 
    At least it’s not snowing, and that’s the best feeble attempt at
    optimism I can manage right now.

  • For weeks, there had been no activity on my KaiOaty
    site, no potential for income to offset the increased expenses of
    winter survival at a time when Greyfox’s income is also at its lowest
    of the year, or to help pay the debt that has accumulated since the
    summer, when we were spending every spare dollar we had to pay off the
    loan he took to buy his new used car. 

    Then, finally,
    when someone did request a reading, I’m in this neuro-muscular/immune
    flareup, foggy-minded and wanting nothing more than to just curl up in
    the warmest spot I can find in this cold house.  I made the
    attempt, anyway, and my guides said forget it, wait, I was in no shape
    to do it justice.  I can’t fight that.  Well, I could, but
    that would be stupid and I’m wise enough to know that it’s futile to
    fight these flareups.  Is that the bright side there?

  • When our motherboard got fried last month and I broke my glasses,
    I was forced to drive into Wasilla several times, to deal with those
    issues.  Until then, I hadn’t been to town since September, being
    to ill to enjoy the trip and too broke to afford the gasoline.  I
    took advantage of those opportunities to attend a couple of 12-step
    meetings and find the fellowship that is really the biggest thing I
    miss about being so far out of town here.

    After the NA meeting,
    one of the women I love the most and can identify with the best
    mentioned that she hadn’t seen me for a while.  I explained that
    it’s a long drive into town and I hadn’t really had to
    make it since the rehab ranch discontinued the van and eliminated my
    volunteer position.  I said that it was mostly that commitment
    that compelled me to make that drive as often as I did.  She took
    it personal and said, “What, we’re not enough of a reason for you to come to town?”

    What could I say that wouldn’t make it worse?  I said nothing, just let her turn away and walk out.

  • It has been a vague but continual source of concern for me that
    my son, at twenty-four, didn’t know what he wants to do with his life.
     Yesterday, he said he finally realizes that what he really wants
    to do is to travel.  He sees himself writing, doing photography
    and odd jobs to support himself and I see nothing wrong with that plan
    except that as things stand now I stand in the way of his realizing it.

    I
    have often told him that I could get by without him, that I would
    survive if he chooses to go on out and have a life of his own.  I
    say that because I feel it is true, that I would somehow manage.
     But he wants to know how I would do it, how I would get the
    firewood split, the snow shoveled, walk to the mailbox when it is so
    cold the air takes my breath away, and I have no answers.  I don’t
    know how I would get by without him, but I would rather try it on my
    own than to be the only thing between him and the realization of his
    dreams.

    Until now, the question was always resolved by the fact
    that he had no plan, no compelling desire to do anything in particular.
     Now I no longer have even that much consolation.  In a
    perfect world, I could assist and support him in realizing his desire
    and could share some of his travels with him.  He is the best
    traveling companion I ever had, enjoying as much as I do taking the
    back roads, following our noses and making no itineraries.  The
    best I could do for him now under these circumstances is to give him
    some empty words of reassurance that I’ll be okay, my old backpack and
    a few bits of advice born of my experience on the road.

    I don’t
    see a bright side here, not for him nor for me.  What good is it
    finally to know what you want to do when love and a sense of obligation
    keep you from doing it?  How can a mother feel good about having a
    loving child to give her care she needs and accomplish tasks she can’t,
    when he is doing it at the price of his own ambitions and dreams?
     How long can he go on this way without its becoming simply a wait
    for me to die?  

    Years ago, Greyfox made it clear that
    he’s waiting for me to die and cease being a drain on his resources.
     Recently he has made some statements indicating that he sees some
    value in my existence and my input.  That came as a relief and a
    pleasant surprise to me.  Even so, I don’t want to be a drain or a
    drag on anyone.  I don’t mind dying but something in me knows that
    my suicide would cause more grief than it would alleviate, so I’m not
    going to do that.  The only course I see open to me is the one I
    am on, stumbling on, muddling through, falling down and picking myself
    up again.

    I’m tired.

  • 3:18 pm
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