I live with several physical ailments--none lifethreatening, just distracting and exhausting. Tiresome to talk about, to explain to a doctor, doctors, specialists. So far I'm managing to avoid taking organ-damaging drugs, maintaining with avoidance diet and OTC pain meds.
And then there are the chronic mental-emotional glitches. I'm fiercely introverted, I have ADHD (inattentive. What were you saying?), and am mildly autistic. Traits I've learned to leverage as hyperfocus = productivity, and compartmentalizing.
I got some bad family news this week, and my inevitable self-castigating thought is, "if I'd been there, I could have done something before this happened." But I wasn't, because I had other debts to pay, so chips are falling, no matter what I do.
I see Jared work with programs that help people, and encourage and support people--Always Keep Fighting! And often, my response is, but why? I will admit that life has its moments, its clear vision, its lung-expanding deep breaths, its joyous sounds. Sometimes those things combine to create a pocket of real happiness, contentment, joy. Those times are precious, and I treasure them. But the problem is white-knuckling it from one of those moments to the next, and I can't help weighing the payoff against the payment, evaluating the bargain.
We ran away from home today, OH and I, on a gorgeous sunny fall day. We were driving through farm country--vast blue skies and rafts of fluffy white clouds over fields gilding in the sun. Conversation was sparse today. We spar and argue and play devil's advocate with each other, egg each other on, but we're good quiet together, too, and today was quiet. I suddenly was aware <a href=
https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=tightropetb&p=david+darling> this piece of music was playing. My favorite instruments in the world are oboe and cello--piano and guitar are distant third and fourth. As I closed my eyes and slipped into the music, suddenly I felt myself floating, soaring, above the fields, eye level with the treetops and horizon mountains, warm breeze cradling me, stroking my skin. I turned to OH, "I could fly quite a while on this music." He smiled, and I turned back to my window, aware now of the tears slicking my cheeks.
I guess you could call it a moment of grace. I've ordered the CD. May it make the spaces between a little easier.
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This is heresy to a lot of people, but this news hit me harder than Bowie. Mr. Rickman lived in a back corner of my conscious mind, making wry and often hilarious, frequently poignant, comments on daily events, and most usually, on my own shortcomings. I can't believe he's gone. A most remarkable man.
...I need to go watch The Winter Guest, again. It's got his presence all over it. It'll be a while before I can watch Truly, Madly, Deeply, now.