Neck-Deep

Have you ever been neck-deep into something and there’s no way of turning back? That’s how I feel about social media tonight.

I joined social media in April 2009. First it was Facebook and a few days later, it was Twitter. Somewhere along the line I joined Tumblr and the rest is history. Although I’m most active on Tumblr I prefer the anonymous feeling I feel on Twitter. I like the option of doing my thing with or without interaction. It’s difficult to do that on Tumblr or Facebook.

Tonight I want no part of social media or the people I know on it. I know this sounds terrible but it’s true. There’s a wealth of crap on my wall, my feed, and my dash tonight and I can’t seem to build the strength to face it all.

 

The Meeting

I’m not very good at first impressions. I’m not the best dresser or very articulate in my opinion. This is why I avoid formally meeting people. I prefer the wave across the room or the meaningful nod over the hi-how-are-you handshake.

Someone I met many years ago on the internet has somehow found a way to step out from the internet and into real life and she wants to meet me this coming Saturday. There’s always this rush of initial excitement when meetings are proposed but that dissipates into a sea of anxiety and dread. I dread this meeting partly because (a) I’m not the best dresser and, (b) I’m not very articulate. In my opinion.

As the day approaches I feel much more at ease for you see, I’ve not heard from the other party and that could mean a reprieve. I’ve started to make tentative plans (all to be carried out by myself) in preparation for this much anticipated and highly sought-after snub. I won’t get too excited until the snub is official.

Maybe I should see someone about this.

This Morning

I didn’t wake up with a lot on my mind. I usually do. I used to be preoccupied with the future but not so much anymore.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed and I’ve embrace that. The plans I make relate more to the immediate future. So what if I don’t have enough retirement money (I think I do) or that ten years from now I will walk with the help of a walker.

But I do wonder if I will be alone. I don’t think it will be that painful to be alone. I see difficulties in doing the little things like mowing the grass (I could hire someone) or cleaning myself after long sit in the bathroom (not too easy to hire someone for that.) But that’s down the road. Not guaranteed just like tomorrow or the next day.

Perhaps I did awake with a lot on my mind.

On The Weekends

I fool myself on the weekends. During the week there is always a build up of good feelings. Sadly they all come crashing down during the weekends when I feel most alone.

It’s no one’s fault. I’m not even at fault. Although I mostly rest on weekends there is still a desire to paint the town red, and more importantly, with someone else in tow.

I filled this weekend with work. When I do this I barely have time to get to work much less do anything I might enjoy doing. Saturday was uncharacteristically busy and Sunday will be more of the same. On the one hand I make extra money but on the other, it sinks me deeper and deeper into loneliness and depression.

It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for over thirty-six hours. I’m suffocating and there’s no one to share it with. And yet I don’t want to. I don’t want to share. I don’t want anyone to suffocate with me. I want to go at it alone until I can go at it no longer.

Today

It’s been a few days since I posted. My personal goal was to post something once a day and I failed. It’s been so busy. Work has been busy. My health has been suspect as well. My tongue feels like I burned it with a slice of pizza fresh out of the oven. That usually means that my thyroid is acting up.

I have done very little to clear up my thyroid issues. I went to a doctor a few months ago after it felt like I was going to faint while shoveling snow. They gave me some pills and sent me on my way. I’ve since depleted the pills and now I’m left to fend for myself.

I’m in New York City today. I just finished visiting the Yoko Ono exhibit at MoMA. It was an unbelievable exhibit and a wonderful way to spend my afternoon. I’m heading home in a few minutes. Not sure what I’ll do when I get there. Not a whole lot of planning goes into my days. I both adore and despise this.

Mother

I remember the last time I saw her alive. She was two months short of her fiftieth birthday but she looked small and ancient in her hospital bed. There was an incessant beeping sound and the room was cold.

She laid in her hospital bed with a large tube in her mouth. There was blood on the floor and on the bed. When I got closer, I noticed blood pouring from her nose and from her eyes.

A nurse rushed into the room seconds after I had arrived with hopes to shield me from this scene. The seconds in that room felt like an eternity. “Not much longer to go,” she said.

I walked out of her room and into a room where the rest of my family gathered. I received a hug from everyone. It was evident from the beginning that those who were once the decision makers of the family were no more. They were too old. They had their own health concerns. It was up to me to decide.

When her doctor pulled me aside and informed me of the prognosis, I could only manage a  blank stare at the hospital hallway wall. It was white. I remember thinking that the wall needed a picture. Maybe a picture of a garden or a river.

“There is no hope,” he said, “I think you need to make a decision.” I heard this as if it was being shouted from the mouth of a cave, a cave that was in danger of caving in all around me.

My family would hear none of it. I couldn’t face them again if I pulled the plug. That much I was certain of. She died a few hours later at the age of forty-nine.

Cirrhosis of the liver, they said.

A Dream

I remember thinking it was all a dream. It was like being asleep and being completely aware that what your subconscious has cooked up is not real.

But everything was real. Your kiss, the walk through your city, a precious jewel located in South Australia and the moments we spent making love or simply watching TV.

From the moment I felt your warm embrace (shortly after I cleared customs and found my way to your airport’s common area) to the moment I reluctantly left your presence, I felt at home. And home is wherever you are. I learned that the minute you visited me in America and I took you to my home.

But the dream ended. I would have forced myself awake if I knew it was going to end. Now I’m left with an emptiness I find difficult and unwilling to fill.