Much to think on...
You would think, that as long as it’s been since I’ve written in my BLOG, that I’d be at least a little sheepish about my absence.
But to be honest, though I suppose I ought to be, what I am feeling instead is a renewed sense of joy at writing, after my extended hiatus, and am enjoying being what in this electronic day and age is considered being social, (with those folks that are a little more than just right down the street, anyway)-than I have in some months.
The truth is, I just let myself get too far down, mainly by using my journal primarily as a way to work out emotional issues. It became too difficult to bear. I had really thought the opposite would happen, and now I know different. Instead of getting it “out” of my system, it merely locks it in, and makes me look like I’m feeling sorry for myself to boot. What it was meant to do was to give me an “outlet” or a way to express my “cosmic broccoli moments out there to just a general ear. And yet I felt like I was laying an obligation on my family and friends (or even acquaintances) to somehow take up this crap I deal with daily and do something with it - when I’ve been trying 40 years to do that rather unsuccessfully. One of those closest to me, and one of the people for whom I started this journal, told me some time ago she doesn’t even read my posts anymore because I write about a part of my life she doesn’t want, and really can’t-hear about right now. And I don’t blame her one bit. Someday she’ll need want that stuff -but not now, and not here, and not publicly.
On the up side, I’ve had an amazing experience this last week or two that has helped me clear up my feelings about a number of things, and one of those most important things is my fear.
On Sunday of last week, the months of severe headaches (migraines), exhaustion and malaise (caused by high blood pressure) finally resulted in a small stroke (a very tiny blood vessel, though just off of a major artery), which was followed the next day by a second “mini” stroke in the same area, though not in exactly the same place.
Neither event was painful. Weird, yes. Painful, no. I did not lose consciousness, though for a few minutes on both days I lost feeling, felt numbness, had motor control issues, etc - for about 10-15 minutes. And then I was fine after that. No worse than a bad insulin reaction - in fact both times I thought that what it was, initially. The weirdness was what convinced me it was different - as the symptoms were only on the left side of my body, and there was a distinctive “line” dissecting where the symptoms were and where they weren’t.
The long term results appear to be only very minimal sensory derivations, and I occasionally drop things unexpectedly. I did that anyway. Now I just do it more often, and my hand shakes more.
And you know what? All of my issues about death just seemed to have disappeared. Or rather, that they haven’t disappeared, but they’ve changed dramatically.
It didn’t hurt.
At all.
My great uncle died a few days ago. Very peacefully, painlessly, quietly, in the waiting room at the doctor’s office at the ripe old age of 93.
It didn’t hurt.
At all.
I’m still ruminating on why that feels so significant to me. I’m not afraid of pain. I deal with it all the time. It’s nice when there’s a relief to it. (Have I mentioned how wonderful morphine is?) But I don’t expect it (a relief, that is) - because life is painful. That’s just how it is.
But death isn’t. And I’m not sure what that means.
But to be honest, though I suppose I ought to be, what I am feeling instead is a renewed sense of joy at writing, after my extended hiatus, and am enjoying being what in this electronic day and age is considered being social, (with those folks that are a little more than just right down the street, anyway)-than I have in some months.
The truth is, I just let myself get too far down, mainly by using my journal primarily as a way to work out emotional issues. It became too difficult to bear. I had really thought the opposite would happen, and now I know different. Instead of getting it “out” of my system, it merely locks it in, and makes me look like I’m feeling sorry for myself to boot. What it was meant to do was to give me an “outlet” or a way to express my “cosmic broccoli moments out there to just a general ear. And yet I felt like I was laying an obligation on my family and friends (or even acquaintances) to somehow take up this crap I deal with daily and do something with it - when I’ve been trying 40 years to do that rather unsuccessfully. One of those closest to me, and one of the people for whom I started this journal, told me some time ago she doesn’t even read my posts anymore because I write about a part of my life she doesn’t want, and really can’t-hear about right now. And I don’t blame her one bit. Someday she’ll need want that stuff -but not now, and not here, and not publicly.
On the up side, I’ve had an amazing experience this last week or two that has helped me clear up my feelings about a number of things, and one of those most important things is my fear.
On Sunday of last week, the months of severe headaches (migraines), exhaustion and malaise (caused by high blood pressure) finally resulted in a small stroke (a very tiny blood vessel, though just off of a major artery), which was followed the next day by a second “mini” stroke in the same area, though not in exactly the same place.
Neither event was painful. Weird, yes. Painful, no. I did not lose consciousness, though for a few minutes on both days I lost feeling, felt numbness, had motor control issues, etc - for about 10-15 minutes. And then I was fine after that. No worse than a bad insulin reaction - in fact both times I thought that what it was, initially. The weirdness was what convinced me it was different - as the symptoms were only on the left side of my body, and there was a distinctive “line” dissecting where the symptoms were and where they weren’t.
The long term results appear to be only very minimal sensory derivations, and I occasionally drop things unexpectedly. I did that anyway. Now I just do it more often, and my hand shakes more.
And you know what? All of my issues about death just seemed to have disappeared. Or rather, that they haven’t disappeared, but they’ve changed dramatically.
It didn’t hurt.
At all.
My great uncle died a few days ago. Very peacefully, painlessly, quietly, in the waiting room at the doctor’s office at the ripe old age of 93.
It didn’t hurt.
At all.
I’m still ruminating on why that feels so significant to me. I’m not afraid of pain. I deal with it all the time. It’s nice when there’s a relief to it. (Have I mentioned how wonderful morphine is?) But I don’t expect it (a relief, that is) - because life is painful. That’s just how it is.
But death isn’t. And I’m not sure what that means.