(no subject)
I returned home to the US today to some devastating but expected news: after a long fight with Alseimer's, my grandmother will probably die within the next couple of days. It is almost comical how systematically the powers that be have removed every defense I have against facing the unknown unprepared, and against listening to nothing but my own instincts and logic when making difficult decisions. I can't even remember the last time I felt I needed to go home this badly, to separate myself from absolutely everybody I know in Boston. Now I will go to mourn a death in that city, with maybe only hours in Tucson. But the most wonderful and valuable lessons I have learned in life have invariably come the most treacherously. I am afraid that I don't have the skills to tackle some of the things I need to deal with this semester with grace. But, I am welcoming the opportunity to try and meet that challenge. What is grace, anyways? Is that even part of the human condition? I think it might just be an ideology - which makes me feel both like I couldn't fail, and also like I already have.
The past several months have been filled with such tremendous highs and lows for me. I feel so alive and yet I also feel there are millions of taut strings inside me and each are snapping one by one. I can't tell if this is part of the aliveness or part of something less positive. I feel as if I have stepped outside of myself and am watching all of this bloom inside me from the calm of Outside, the way I watched vinegar and baking soda foam up in a bottle when I was little. I can't tell if I have become impressively meditative about life or if I'm headed towards a breakdown.
All I wanted was a few days in quiet, where I could examine my life from behind glass and figure out what I need to do next. But the message is clear: Life has to be decided while living it. There is no pause button.
The past several months have been filled with such tremendous highs and lows for me. I feel so alive and yet I also feel there are millions of taut strings inside me and each are snapping one by one. I can't tell if this is part of the aliveness or part of something less positive. I feel as if I have stepped outside of myself and am watching all of this bloom inside me from the calm of Outside, the way I watched vinegar and baking soda foam up in a bottle when I was little. I can't tell if I have become impressively meditative about life or if I'm headed towards a breakdown.
All I wanted was a few days in quiet, where I could examine my life from behind glass and figure out what I need to do next. But the message is clear: Life has to be decided while living it. There is no pause button.