the past few months of my life have been difficult.
trust me, at this point....i'm REALLY sick of saying that. i'm sick of it being my motto- that's what it feels like. but let me say, it's led me to some really good realizations and changes so, it's not wasted.
it's never wasted, life being hard. i'm really starting to understand that.
my great grandma passed away in the beginning of september, and a cycle began. i couldn't see it then, but now with the benefit of hindsight i can. her death brought a sharp reality into my brain and my heart and really every part of me, that i had never experienced before. i began to get a little morbidly interested in death. i was dealing with all parts of it. the physical loss of a person. seeing a person's body and knowing that their soul is missing. wondering, where that goes. wondering, if we remain conscious through everything, do we become pure matter without consciousness? so many thoughts.
and then not long after my great grandma passed away, taking with her this presence that had existed before i was born and had been there my entire life so far......a whole different aspect of death came in from the other side. scout, for all intents and purposes my baby. dying. dying. and then gone.
and after lying on the floor at the vet's office, holding scout's face so that our eyes were staring right into each other's and our noses touched, and i watched the life slowly ebb from him and i was still holding him. crying hysterically because death once again was here. and i didn't know what to do. it quickly took my great grandma and it quickly took my companion and child. and my world was just kind of rocked. it was rocked while suddenly death seemed to be the only thing i could thing about. death, in all its stages and exactly what it is and does. and at the same time, the season is changing from gentle fall to harsher whisperings of winter, with early darkness and promised snows.....
and i am just like, what the hell.
k life, just calm the eff down for a moment. let me breathe. my anxiety starts causing panic attacks and my meds need to be adjusted. and then, something bad happens. a week later, i'm down with pouchitis again. i'm starting to realize that i am doing certain things to myself sub-consciously. that i am internalizing guilt and shame and anger, and that these things are attacking me now the same way they were attacking my colon. and i'm realizing i'm setting myself up for a crappy life if i don't check myself and fast. reigning in my self-loathing, so i can actually get healthy. that is all i want, i realize. all i want.
so here i admit, i have issues. everybody has their own. but mine are just.....they're issues born from trauma. i didn't understand that these kind of issues don't just go away with a little affirmation in the mornings, or whatever. i have issues directly related to the fact that my life was about being sick, potentially dying, and just surviving day-to-day. my life has been survival. and just that. so while in some aspects i've certainly matured beyond my years. it's obvious to me whenever i'm around my peers. it's also obvious that my social skills are lacking, and that's directly related to me being very isolated when i was sick. i was missing out on years of emotional growth in very basic ways, while making emotional growth into advanced stages in other ways. i have a deep understanding about pain and loss, and the special horror of your body destroying itself so systemically. like a program gone wrong, and suddenly it's just going into shutdown and your heart and your spirit are screaming. this isn't what you wanted! and not so young. the physical and mental/emotional are at odds. and having your body become the grounds of a civil war between your soul, your core, and the physical. it's a mess.
i didn't really understand, even with all my preparations, what kind of mark sickness and surgery were going to leave on me. what kind of isolation i really sank into. like a big bathtub full of icy water. nearly two years since my first surgery, and i still can hardly fathom it. it's still hard to look at the pictures. my health hasn't gotten THAT much better. i do not feel "done" with this yet, and i'd hoped that i would be at this point.
i've always been an intense person. but all of that, and the mark it's left on me, has made me even more intense. i'm trying to learn what to dial down, and what is actually good intensity. i'm trying really hard to be a good person, because i feel like i wasn't made a "good person", with traits that lend well toward goodness. ha! if anything, i have a host of traits that lend toward selfishness, vanity, impatience with myself, and the deep-down, marrow-deep belief that i am not worth anything. i have a temper, i can be calculating. i have some tendencies that would lend well to me being a sleazy person, not caring about anything but living this life- and living it the way i want to.
but then there's a whole other side-just less developed, where good traits have been fed and watered in recent years. if i care for them, if i tend to them, can they overtake the rottenness that is already there?
i want to be a GOOD PERSON. it sure doesn't sound glamorous at all, but i've never cared much for glamor anyway. i think i have the makings of both a lousy person and a good one (don't we all?) but i think the good things are in the beginning stages of being able to overpower the bad, finally. it will be a process long and slow. but that's what life is, right?
ps- i want to be a good person. i'm not all that stoked on being a completely sane person ;) though...heh. the greatest artists and writers never are. my intensity fans the flame of my creativity, so though dialed-down it may become.....
......it will never disappear.