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thoughts randlomly dropped


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It’s all just an experiment, isn’t it?

All my life is circular, I think.  I look at situations and think ‘I’ve been here before, almost’.  My massage instructor suggested that time is circular as well as linear- sort of a spiral stretched out on a line.  That makes absolute sense to me.  Like I have to check the lessons I’ve learned, then go back and check what else can be gleaned from the situation (or a similar one).  Maybe check back once or twice over the course of 10 or so years, in case I’ve missed anything.  I was looking at old pictures a bit today.  They’re from when my brother was 4 or 5 and I had just got a camera so I was taking pictures of everything (remember that?  The magick of point and shoot and capture that fuzzy moment forever?)  He was playing in our little pool on the concrete driveway, grinning.  In others he’s looking furious- these are group shots of all of us at Graceland, my graduation, other family group shots.  Always standing apart, or glowering, or both.  My little brother.

 

He’s in jail at this moment.  Clean and sober, not by choice but by circumstance.  He writes to me:  ‘Sissy, I can think so clearly now without the drugs in my body.’  ‘Sis, I can’t believe I got so bad.  I’m scared to get out.  How will I live?’

 

My brother is a heroin addict.  So is my sister.

 

I tell people this regularly.  Not to gain sympathy or notoriety or anything else, but because this needs discussion.  It needs to be heard and spoken and acknowledged.  People need to understand that even if you have all your shit together it doesn’t mean you can’t be affected by heroin.  Or cocaine (that was my birth mother).  Or prescription drugs (my aunt).  Or alcoholism (the list is too long).  The thing is, I’m the only sibling who learned anything from having an addict raise us.  I’m apparently the only one who got lucky enough to break the traditions.  And it was luck, make no mistake.  I was well on my way to pickling myself while I went tripping every weekend when one night I just…. didn’t want it.

 

Luck.  Or maybe the Universe tapping my soul?  Maybe it was my soul’s plan to be the sober support person this time around?  I’d like to offer you all the suggestion that being the clean, clear-sighted one is plenty frustrating.  I get to watch my family go down in flames, offering helpful suggestions the whole time.  I love my family, and I can’t fix them.

 

I’ve come to terms with all this (most days).  What I still struggle with is this:  the birth mother?  That we all share?  Saw it all coming down.  Allowed them to shoot up in her home.  And did nothing.  Nothing.  NOTHING.  I don’t even have words for how this makes me feel.  Fury.  Heartbreak.  Tired.  Disappointed.  Sad.  Is there a single word to convey all that and everything else I have trouble naming?  I haven’t spoken with her in something like 7 years, since she told me to get out of her life (I was ever the obedient one).  Funny though, we only live 3 blocks apart.  She could have sent a message by carrier pigeon or neighbour or in the everloving POST for chrissakes letting me know what was going on.  How does a mother just sit back and watch her youngest children destroy themselves and their lives?

 

Nevermind.  It’s a rhetorical question.  I know the answer (in this case).  It’s because she has her own demons.  Because she’s lost too.  And I can’t help her either.  So I stay away.  Protect my tiny family.  Try to model healthy behaviour for Monkey (who will be driving soon).  Try to teach him to be strong and safe and sensible before he heads out into the world on his own.  Try to offer good advice to my brother in our weekly letters.  I tell him I love him in each one.  I try to remind him that he is more than his addiction and mistakes.  That he can plan to do better and follow through.  That he can be a better father to his kids.  That he has to take care of himself.

 

All these things I’ve told myself in the past, at other moments.  All this ground that I’ve almost already covered.

 

Life is a spiral, stretching forward and back.  Allowing us to touch multiple moments in time with one hand.  Sometimes it’s just so damn hard.


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“Heard you comin’ up the gravel road…

…I could tell it was you by the weight of the load.*”

 

Wow, I reckon it’s been a bit since I wrote here last…. Everything’s all fancy and redone.  Alrighty then. 

 

Things have been… strenuous lately.  Not in the lifting heavy things and shifting them around the place way, but more in the sloggingthroughwhatever-that-is-ohitdoesn’tsmellverypleasantdoesit? kind of way.  Let’s be honest.  February sucked so hard it’s inside out.  Not just for me either- that would be comparatively easy.  It’s watching everyone else slog that poses more trouble for me.  For instance:

~A family member revealed that he’s a long time heroin user and wants to stop.  (As I type this, this song started playing- the universe DOES, in fact, have a crafty sense of humour.  Or something.)

~Several friends having money issues in such a way as to jeapordise current operations.

~Another friend’s husband shipped out for Afghanistan

~Another friend’s mother has ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease– which is fucking awful.  “painless, non-contagious and cruel — the motor function of the central nervous system is destroyed but the mind remains fully aware to the end.”  To be filed under “I’d rather drink Hemlock- same effect, more glamour.”  Fuckall.)

~misc other similar issues happening to EVERYONE AT ONCE

And to ice the cake::

~Bear had to go to hospital for appendicitis (which we didn’t know he was having because the pain went away- which apparently means IT RUPTURED, but because his body is FUCKING AMAZING he did NOT get peritonitis because there was an abscess with all the toxins neatly collected within.)

 

Deep breath. 

 

So, yeah.  Fuck February.  Like, all the way. 

 

March is better so far, and I fully intend for things to continue in a better direction.  Dealing with my addicted family member- henceforth referred to as Flash- has been trying at times.  I have to keep reminding myself I can’t fix him.  I can’t solve his (multitude of self inflicted) problems.  This is his fire to walk through.  All I can do is remind him he can do it.  I gave him the old saying ‘I can eat an elephant if I take small bites’.  I remind him to take one thing at a time.  I remind him I love him, and that he can do this.  He has such a long, potholed road before him. 

 

Classes have been good.  They are a touchstone for me- my classmates have such a positive, kind, supportive attitude overall.  How lucky I am to be learning healing arts with such a marvellous group.  The material is getting more difficult, which means I have to take my study time more seriously.  Which is a good thing.  I’m still trying to figure out what my post licensing plan is.  I’m loving the healer-bodyworker concept, but I live in the land of conservative which makes marketing a rubic’s cube to figure out.  Good thing I have a marketing madman to ask about these things. 

I gave the first massage I’m not pleased with over the weekend, though.  A learning experience, and the client didn’t seem to know the difference, but I did and it’s definitely something for me to process and improve on.  I have a pretty good idea of where and what my problem was- just need to be sure I don’t allow it to happen again.  I wasn’t focused, and so I went through the motions but there was no energy flow of note.  Not that I have to be in charge of every little thing, but my goal is to facilitate movement and improved flow of energy.  I’m a conduit.  If I’m distracted, I’m disconnected and therefore Not a conduit, but rather, a cut wire.  That is not what I’m going for.  A lesson, and one I don’t plan to repeat. 

 

Bear’s tattoo enterprise is coming along.  Had him work on me for the first time last night.  He was nervous as hell, but still did well.  Just a small one, an easy one.  Something to ease him into working on me.  I have more planned and I look forward to him gaining the skills to complete my plans (mwahahahaha).  He’s recovering well from surgery, although he lost almost 20 pounds over the week he wasn’t feeling well- mostly muscle mass- which has caused him a bit of difficulty.  He literally has to get his strength back.  Having him in hospital was so very scary.  I coped really well when the shit was in the fan.  A couple weeks after is when I had my meltdown.  There’s nothing like seeing the person you love most in the universe lying helpless in a hospital bed to reality check you on what you would do if you had to do it alone.  Not something I ever want to experience again.  Told Bear he better stay healthy from here on out, and that I would do the same. 

 

Sometimes it’s a wonder to me that we are here at all, let alone that we find others to love and be happy with.  How lucky we are to have such magick in our lives.  The joy and fear and sorrow and everything of love and being connected to those we love.  Astounding, really, that some can get by for so long without it.  It’s worth it to remember that everyone is fighting valiantly some battle or other, and be kinder for that remembrance.  Even on days when the weight of air on your skin tries your patience.  

Be good to you.  Be good to one another. 

Cheers. 

 

 

*Dust and Bones by Cary Ann Hearst