I have some pictures. I got my elephant, and we got his trunk in the air. This fucking shit isn’t letting me upload my pictures. I’ll try again later.
I swear to Jesus that I hear myself saying shit or see myself doing shit that is very unlike me. I’ve begun shedding everything that drags me down. Life drags us down enough without extra bullshit baggage on top of it. Friends that don’t realize their buttons dial out too, but get pissed at you when it’s been months since you spoke. And then after 25+ years of friendship, they erase themselves from your life because they’re not strong enough to handle your son’s declining health. Fuck that. I’d rather sit here alone.
I stopped watching TV and Movies a long time ago because I can make MY life just as exciting as that shit. I don’t need to worry about pretend people – because I will. Worry. I’ll fret over some make believe garbage because that’s just the idiot I am. So, I don’t watch anymore. Nothing. If I’m really really bored, I will watch some TV with Jason. But that happens maybe once every so many months. And it’s usually some news or Naked and Afraid or Deadliest Catch or maybe that one where they run across the obstacles? I laugh my fucking ass off at that one, but I can’t work the tv/cable when I’m alone, so I can’t watch shit anyway.
Wait, I lie. I do watch football now though. Not every game, but ones that interest me. Very exciting and a no fucking brainer. You do not need to think when you watch football. I love that. THAT’S what I have surrounded myself with. Things I don’t have to worry about. And it feels amazing, I must admit.
I also can’t sit still long enough to watch anything, so there’s that. They [docs] think it’s tremors caused by a medication I take. My doc think it’s just adhd. I pace because it’s so bad. I fucking vibrate on the inside. Pacing or hard work helps get rid of the constant need to move. If I sit too long, I swear the vibration will reach allllllllllmost the level of pain. It’s like being so uncomfortable that it hurts. It’s all I can think about when I sit. Work is great because I can move. That’s all I do. Home? Egads. My husband would never leave the couch if there was a shawshank redemption channel. TV on 24/7 when I am not around. No thanks.
Besides, we only get so many life minutes on this Earth, and no one but God knows how many you have left. When I told that my son had Duchenne 10 years ago, something changed. Clicked. Turned on. Maybe something was turned off? Who knows. But I’m not the same. I’m older, and I hope to God I’m wiser. But I’m also kinder. I do not say anything that might make a person feel anxiety or shame or guilt or embarrassment or anger or anything negative. I will not be somebody’s breaking point. It doesn’t matter what you have to say to a person – did you get that part? It Doesn’t Matter What You Have to Say — it can done two ways. You can tear somebody down, or help build them up. Shitty worker? Find a good quality and shine on it a time or two, and let them know you noticed their hard work. They’ll start to do more to get more praise. You can easily turn someone into a good employee – but only if they see themselves as the change makers. Or, you can tell them gently that you noticed they were having trouble getting the baseboards clean, did you want some help next time so I can show you how I do it?
It’s not that hard. It works every time I’ve done it. And I was a manager for ten years. Or, I could reprimand them and basically tell them they suck at cleaning and see how much that improves their work. Ten fold, I bet.
Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah. So be nice. You do not know what kind of shit sandwich life is trying to shove down the throat of the person standing next to you. Might be nastier than yours.
I tell people I love them. We hug good bye every time. No one ever knows for sure how long they have on this planet. Jason and I are getting older. We’re now in that bracket where no one even raises an eyebrow if you were to stroke out of this life. Yep, totally within reason given their age. That’s fucking scary. Sort of. I can start to see how you might be ready to exit stage left after spending 100 or so years here on Earth. You get tired. And I’m tired of being tired. And I ain’t talking about being sleepy. I’m heavy, and I know why, but knowing that I’m just depressed about Ian solves nothing. He’s still sick. It will never be as good as it is today, because he gets worse every day. How’s that for ya? Every fucking day from here on out will be shit because you will spend it weeping for your son. One way or the other.
Eat that sammich.
Geebus. Settle down.
Damn, it’s 2am. I have dirt streaks on my arms and dirt in my hair. Think Jason would be pissed if I just laid down? We’re about to find out. ..