My brother and I were dealt a significant financial blow due to my Father's illness. It has set me back significantly in many ways. So I have started again to build back. In 2019 I achieved my dream of freedom, but it is no longer there. So I must rebuild. We all went through a small hell for a month. My Father's body went through basically everything that could go wrong.
I visited him the other day. He was going to have dinner. And what he said was that he was looking forward to having a “doubles”.
I don't think I have anything in me left to “be the bigger man”. A statement like that could only be understood by psychiatrists or psychotherapists. If I knew that I almost died, and knew the effect that it had on those around me, emotionally, physically and financially, would I ask for a “doubles”. No I would not. The thought of one would terrify me.
Could it be that my Father loves food more than his sons? This might sound preposterous, but I have no more energy in me to recognize the preposterous. So I am going to run with it until I see some evidence to the contrary.
For some time now, I knew that I did not understand people. Now, additionally, I don't really care to. I have no desire again. None.
I will continue to fulfill all of the responsibilities that are necessary for the care of my parents. But am I not valuable enough such that it must work the other way as well? Shouldn't my parents fulfill their responsibility toward me? Am I not deserving of that? Or am I yet another thing to be used up and thrown away?
I don't know. I don't want to know. The side of me that gives the benefit of the doubt got hammered recently and is non-functional.
Today, this word came into my head .... “Thrive”.
I sat back and pondered on the word. And it seemed that I had not thought of the word in a long time. It felt like I had not felt the effect of this word for ages.
Almost everything around me is about surviving, about just scraping by. It's a constant stream of bad news, of the same old thing. Scrape, scrape, scrape, scraping by like scavenger fish sucking at the sea floor. Wretched.
There will always be a part of me that looks at life and what it has to offer, and then feels that it would have been better not to have been born. Before 1973, I was nothing and I knew nothing. There is a part of me that finds that to be a beautiful thing.
What's the use of existing, of knowing if all there is is just this scraping by, just this surviving? None really.
These days it's almost like I am awake and dreaming at the same time. It's like I am two people, each existing in a different world, but contained in the same body, in the same mind.
The awake part just executes tasks off of a to-do list. One thing after the next, after the next, after the next. Getting things done. And it's just tedium he feels. Just going through the motions, doing the do. Smiling every now and then but not really meaning it. Dead inside.
And then there is the dreaming. A student posts his completed Udemy course certificate on LinkedIn and does so with pride. And I tell them Congrats! And they say thank you. And it's sacred, and it's protected. In that space, we both demonstrate a personal responsibility to one another, a mutual respect, a mutual appreciation.
That's like a dream. That's thriving. That's legacy.
The nightmares have started back. Last night I was in a silo and it was slowly being filled with grain, until it covered my head and flowed into my throat, gradually choking me, and killing me.
I'm scared to go to sleep tonight. I'm scared of being choked again.
Yet another day of tedium tomorrow ... another list to execute. Some more acting and pretending. So be it.