20/08/03
i keep putting this off. i felt like i was bursting, needing to write, and that as soon as i was in front of the computer again it would just come, but once i got back here, i hesitated. and now all i'm doing is the usual, trapped in a way of coping that makes me sick in so many ways. and i don't think i'm getting much out of it this time, except delay, because i'm scared.
the feeling of phoniness, of not wanting things to continue for a moment longer. a need to escape, and to do the least sensible and practical thing, the need to expose who i am, to make it more clear, because i'm allowing myself to be pushed into little corners again, into tight little spaces where i can't move, where i can't breathe,and i feel this desperate need to rebel, whatever the fuck anyone thinks of me.
gk's mother's health has deteriorated further. it doesn't seem there's much hope at this point for her to regain her health and life, and it seems like it's just a question of time. we were just there for a week, so gk's sister could have a break, and something of a honeymoon. also, gk's mother kept asking about him, and every time he called, she asked if he was there, in town.
i didn't think i could cope with going back. i've been around people so much in the last while, in situations that have been extremely difficult for me, and it's like i felt i had exceeded my limit, and that i just couldn't do any more. and i don't know if it was just how scared gk looked to face it all alone, if that was what motivated me. maybe some parts of me are still human.
i tried so hard to be honest about myself, to not force anything or try to seem too normal, just to keep from drawing attention to myself. but i always felt that everything i said was idiotic, and that the way i came across was fake, fake, fake. i constantly wore a watch, i even slept with it on. counting the minutes. figuring out fractions. stupid little math games to pass time. how much i had endured, how much more there was to endure until i could come back here. back here to what. i'm not comfortable here either, or it's a kind of comfortable i don't want to be comfortable with. i've given up on trying to make this room reflect what i want it to, because i don't think i can do it, not here, not in this house. i've given up. just like i can't deal with the rest of the house, can't keep it clean, just 'tidy' to some extent. but not wanting to be seen here, because it doesn't feel like me. doesn't feel like where i should be.
for weeks.. here i just wear the same things all the time. i hate admitting that, and i hate that i am this way. i want to project something different. it's getting a bit warmer now, but until recently it's been sort of cold. my winter sleepwear: deep dark red flannel pajama pants with tiny pinprick white polka dots. men's size small, and they're pretty big on me. women's small would be big on me too, but all the women's ones came in easter colours, like pale purple, pink, yellow, etc. i like them big, they feel comfortable. i wear a black cotton tank top with them. and when i wake up whenever and get out of bed, i throw a black pullover over top of everything and i put on black cotton socks. if i have extra energy, i take off the pajama bottoms and tank top, and put on black faux suede pants and a black bra under my black pullover. it's probably been months now that this has been my routine. when we're visiting gk's family, i wear a wider variety of things, and i wear more body-conscious things, and try to be less boring. but it's like when i'm here, i don't want to go out, i don't want anyone to see me. i just want to be comfortable, and i just want to hide.
i like sleeping in a very cold room. with a very poufy warm comforter, or something equivalent. i never thought i'd ever have use for an electric blanket, but i'll admit that i like them now, that without one to warm up a bed before i get into it when it's really cold i'm not sure i can generate enough body heat to sleep comfortably.
i like to shower in the dark. i need to wash my hair frequently, because it gets extremely greasy fast. it's weird, i have really dry skin that doesn't exfoliate properly, but my face and scalp are very oily, and my hair is noticeably greasy in one day, especially now that it's thinner, and my face just feels really uncomfortable when it's greasy. just washing my face alone doesn't seem to help. it's like the grease from my scalp continually must drip or seep down, or something, and i don't feel better until i actually wash my hair. gk's hair doesn't look as greasy as mine ever, not even if he goes 2 months without washing his hair. i brush my teeth, but partly that's about trying to get the taste of food out of my mouth, it's a way of trying to prevent bulimic behaviour. i put on makeup because i like looking in the mirror, and i find it more pleasing to do so when i'm wearing makeup. the lipstick i wear now stays on really well, it's like i can just forget about it. i can even vomit in it and when i'm done there's still a clear outline and all i have to do is fill in the insides of my lips a little. i sleep in it, and don't wake up looking like an honours graduate of the robert smith school of makeup application. not that that would necessarily be a bad thing, and at times i probably would have found that somewhat cool or something, and i don't know that it actually is an improvement now, it's just less of a mess when i don't have energy to deal with taking it off before passing out.
i used to take off all of my clothes to vomit. it would make it easier to clean up afterward. and i'd disinfect the bathroom and whatnot. now i just don't care. i'll take off my top sometimes, and try to pin my hair back, that's about it. and i just quickly wipe the stray bits of vomit i can see with toilet paper. i guess it's pretty disgusting. i just don't care. can't make myself care. i can remember a few times in the past, when i lived alone, after vomiting i'd sometimes go out walking, late at night, and i'd probably have vomit crusted in my hair, and i'd feel so disgusting, but it was like sometimes when i felt the most disgusting, i was like some kind of magnet for male attention. i just couldn't figure it out.
knowing that when it comes to gk's mother that it's not really acceptable to give up 'hope' at this point. like maybe things could still get better, even though realistically it looks like they won't. she didn't want a biopsy in the first place, she opted for radiotherapy because she had been told that although there was a better chance of dealing well with the cancer and that in the longterm she'd have a better chance at a higher quality of life with the biopsy, there was a chance she'd have ongoing paralysis on the one side of her body for as much as a year or so. (she was already experiencing this to some extent.) she didn't want that, if she was going to live, she didn't want it to be like that, in that sort of state, not even for a year. and now here she is, completely helpless in a hospital bed, the weakness on the one side of her body so bad that she can't move that side of her body at all, or even seem to feel it. she is incontinent and has to ring for people to clean her up and move her into comfortable positions. the cancer is also now affecting her lungs or chest somehow so that she has difficulty breathing. at first they thought she had pneumonia, but it seems more like the cancer is what's behind it. she has a plague of other uncomfortable problems. she's currently waiting for a bed in a hospice.
a friend of hers, who plays violin and brought her violin in to play in the hospital, managed to get special permission to have gk's mother's dogs brought in to her. it's unusual, but maybe partly allowed because the dogs are poodles and don't shed. i think for the first day they were on a kind of trial, to see how they behaved. surprisingly, they were very calm.
the dogs are fairly highstrung, and find car rides very stressful. gk's sister, who is a vet, seemed dubious that it would be all that easy to transport the dogs anywhere without difficulty. one of them has only 3 good legs (he's actually broken about 3 of them at different times), doesn't see so well, and is prone to accidents (like breaking limbs) when stressed. the other is incontinent when stressed. they both normally panic in the car, howling and moaning, running all over the place, even with people they are comfortable with.
when it came to these dogs, like with people, i've been reserved. i think what i do is not give out the usual cues that people give out in the early stages of attachment. i think on my part it's conscious. i think generally i'm not so bad with animals, babies and older sprogs, etc, but that i purposely hang back because i always feel like i have one foot out the door when it comes to life. it could also be part of why people are uncomfortable with me. part of the something they just can't put their finger on.. anyway, when visiting in the past, i've found it a bit stressful dealing with the dogs. feeling sorry for them, because they feel abandoned, with gk's mother in the hospital, but not having enough in me left over to comfort them, to find ways of dealing with the incontinence and whatnot, because i'm using whatever energy i have to just be there, and give gk whatever support i can, or at least not contribute to his stress.
and it's like i hated myself for it, in a way. because i have so few wearable clothes, because having comfortable clothes to wear has something to do with me being able to cope with being around people.. but knowing that because of that, i'm afraid to let a dog piss on me. when it comes to those i care about, i'm capable of seeing someone's bodily functions as just part of that person, not something to be disgusted by or inconvenienced by. just natural, something to be curious about even. and to take it further, curiosity about everything that goes on underneath the skin.. when obsessed, obsessed also with wanting to know all about it, about all that can't be immediately seen. wanting to accept it all, the things that we normally don't think about or focus on. wanting in some way to see just one more facet of who the person is, in detail, to have more awareness, to be close in strange ways related to how the blood and nerves and internal organs influence this person who fills my vision.
i don't know how it happened, how i was able to handle it. i guess it was just that it seemed very important that gk's mother see her dogs, and so i found ways to cope. i wore clothes i didn't really want to be seen in, but they were machine washable, and who would see me anyway? and gk drove the car, and i sat in the middle of the backseat, with an arm around each dog. and the thing is that i really did feel for their distress, and as i started to try to comfort them, i think they started to trust me more, to feel more comfortable with me, to start to become attached to me.
in the hospital, it could be that they were calm because on some level they understood the seriousness of the situation. like they could smell all the very sick humans. or maybe it was like empathy.. remembering what it was like at the vet, and making a connection.. they would settle down with gk's mother, and just sleep on her, at opposite ends of her body. they looked cute, and gk's mother seemed very glad to have them there. and so we brought them in for about 3 hours a day every day we were there. gk's mother's friends, and his sister, all knowing the dogs, were actually surprised that they behaved calmly in the hospital. at home, when anyone arrives, they bark like mad, and even gk's mother can't quiet them. at first in the hospital, they barked a bit when some people would enter the room, but they really did calm down and were very well behaved. maybe they really did on some level understand how important it was.
it's like she knows what the deal is, that she's at the mercy of 'luck' or whatever. she's incapacitated, and it's likely to get worse, not better, and her mind still seems alert, but she doesn't have much energy when it comes to communication, it all takes so much effort. she's trapped, and she knows it. is she longing for euthanasia, or hoping for a miracle? and quality of life becomes an issue, no matter what. and her thoughts turn to her dogs. the human capacity for dealing with difficult situations. my dogs are all that are left to me. and if they can't come up with other solutions, it really is the only humane thing to do to let her see the dogs. to let anyone in that kind of situation have this kind of thing, if they can't do anything else. and probably even if they can.
neither gk nor i had much to say, and there was a lot of silence. gk seemed so lost. there was just so much time. at times, i knew i must look distressed, and that gk's mother would see it and feel frustrated at the kind of person i was. i couldn't shut out her discomfort, and probably made a pest of myself always asking if i could do this or that for her. and i'm thinking about how difficult it must be to lie there helpless when independence is important to you, with people staring at you, waiting for you to die. and i did feel distressed, because i'm thinking well it probably would be better if she died and it wasn't prolonged. and knowing full well that part of it is about how difficult it is for me to be there, to go to the hospital and be around people. and although there's more to it, things probably anyone with an ash point of view would understand, just knowing that i can't take my discomfort out of it made me feel phony, like i shouldn't be there. and i wondered if she even wanted me there, and if i'd just make her last moments uncomfortable, when i wouldn't have taken it personally if she had preferred to be alone with gk. and knowing it might be the last time she got to see him while she was still reasonably lucid, i tried to give them time alone together, if either had things they wanted to say. i went for a walk, got some water, etc. sat down in a different waiting area.
by the end of the week, i was feeling that i couldn't handle anything like this ever again. i was sort of acting like a member of the family, but i wasn't one. i just kept thinking 'i want out.' i want out of all of it. i want death for myself. i don't want to participate in these fucking torture rituals for everyone involved in the name of politeness or doing the 'right' thing. why does everyone's communication suck so much? and meanwhile gk's sister lives there, and has to deal with this sort of thing every single day, and just giving her a brief respite seems like not enough, not anywhere near enough.
i was complimented on the wedding photos i took. i felt self- conscious. i didn't want to force them on anyone, especially since they didn't want a traditional wedding.. i tried to explain that i was very nervous and taking photos helped me to deal with being around people. also, gk's mother wanted photos, and i took them in part for her. i said it was totally ok with me if they deleted all the photos. so maybe they liked the photos, maybe they just wanted to be 'nice', or to preserve 'family' relations, but i can't help feeling that maybe i inflicted these photos on them. the photos were 'great', 'but you're not in any of the photos'. heh, that's because i don't exist. i wasn't really there. i'm not really part of the family. i don't want to exist.
when gk's sister and her husband returned from their honeymoon, we went out to dinner to talk about things, to have a serious talk about all that's going on. i remember the feeling of panic walking along, knowing i was supposed to help choose a restaurant, but not feeling up to it. i was so drained, i just wanted to go home. but not wanting something too ordinary.. and somehow we were standing in front of an indian restaurant that smelled good, and i don't know it just seemed like a good choice at the moment, although i didn't really like the inside. the food going by looked and smelled very good, but the decor was just blandly trendy or something and i didn't like it. i was very uncomfortable there. i sat very stiffly and nervously throughout the meal. it was very loud in there, and i didn't want to shout, so mostly i just stayed quiet. the food was good. a lot of it was fairly hot, but the way i test whether food is 'too' hot for me is if i can still taste it, make out complexity of flavours after a couple of bites. if my taste buds feel deadened and i feel a bit sick, i know it's too hot for me personally. anyway, this food was probably about as hot as i can handle and still be able to taste things. i've found over the last couple of years that i've slowly acquired more of a taste for unusual things.. i guess when your background has been fairly boring it may take a while to acquire a taste for certain things. it's difficult for me to enjoy eating at a restaurant if i don't like the atmosphere, though, no matter how good the food is. i just wanted to get out of there.
i want out. of all of it. i'm not a part of a family. i'm sure everyone is uncomfortable with me. maybe gk's not, but he doesn't see the partial picture that everyone else does, and he can accept the things that the others probably can't. but if the others had access to the same information, maybe they'd try to 'help' him see how noxious i am.
i don't even care. really, it has to be up to me, i guess. i want out of this situation. i have to figure out how to do it. but there isn't really anywhere to go. and all that i thought i wanted to do, i still have the ideas, but it's like i don't know if i care, at all.
just.. i've been thinking of myself as an incapacitated elderly person. shitting and pissing all over myself. but the thing is, for the most part, i've hidden myself away, removed myself from the sight of most of the people i know. i'm still viewable here, but without pressure. no one has to watch, or do anything. i guess i can see that to avoid it getting worse, i probably have to act. now? is there anything else i still want. but how unforgiveable would it be to dump that on gk, two deaths for the price of one? i'm sorry, i find it hard to think that way. when it's time to go, it's time to go.
and if you're reading this.. i want to write to you, but i don't want to inflict the same old crap on you. so i'm just stalking you in whatever pathetic ways i can.
i miss you.
[20/01/05: i'll admit i'm pretty confused. i either don't have access to enough information, or too much of it is unreliable or confusing for reasons which might not be evident to someone who is not in my position.
i am also dealing with crushing insecurity at the moment, in relation to some of what i'm doing, and i also don't seem to have anything to look forward to in relation to it (or in relation to anything ever, really), except maybe some kind of momentary release when i've done as much as i can for now. but, i don't seem to have a choice. it's like i need to get certain things out, reorganize certain details in certain ways so i can see if it's possible to move on to a next step. but i don't know how to explain what i'm doing or why, beyond that. the whole process is agonizing. and (yawn) as usual, i just keep hoping to be magically struck dead or something.
i like checking for things, even if i just end up more confused.
in case you're wondering, i am not ruling out delusion, but i seem to have moved to a stage where i'm not as focused on that possibility.]
23/01/05: exhausted. what is there to talk about. possums, echidnas, balconies? kafka? i made a picture tonight. if you want to see where the wild roses grow.
14/02/05: "everybody wants a box of chocolates and a long stem rose. everybody knows..."