Gone mental

Notes from my Black
2022-04-15 04:40:47 (UTC)

What happens

My experience is limited, but it is varied in that I have experienced loss from lots of angles. One thing I know is that when we die, we don’t get what we want.

Example 1- my grandad. I could talk about all four, but I’ll focus on this one. He died at a very old age. He lived an eventful life. Saw both world wars… avoided internment camps, survived the Great Depression, lived a solid life and traveled as much as his finances and body could handle. He loved his wife for some 80 years. He had tons to celebrate and his wishes were for us to celebrate his life. Instead we mourned. This is the common theme. We mourn.

Mourning is natural. It’s how we purge emotional baggage. Growing up I mourned relationships ending by a bit of self harming and massive crying. I wasn’t worthy of being loved then either and my emotions would boil over, the blood would spill or my skin would bruise, tear, sear or most commonly, I would listen to music so loud, my eardrums would threaten to burst. This practice haunts me to this day. I have terrible hearing.

Example 2- my dad. His wish for us too was to celebrate his life, but he had this rock in his back yard he wanted us to make his headstone. After he died, my step mother said “yeah, I’m not doing that”. These wishes are only fulfilled when we are alive. Bloody hell, if you want something done, you seriously have to do it yourself it seems. Just because it’s in a will… or note… or even a legally binding agreement does not mean people will do it. If there is a human component, their desire will weigh more than your hope.

So when I say I want to be disposed of. My body torn to shreds and scientists given full permission to figure out why the hell I never found my happy place or even a feeling of tranquil zen, it will only happen if the living people want it done. I’m certain my psyche will carbon disperse just like the rest of me, and eventually get repurposed into trees, seaweed or atomic bomb.

I know this is morose. That is just a word we assign to the end to show it reverence and keep ourselves one step aside from the inevitable path.

When I was younger… my sweat band wearing years, I didn’t think so much about my family when I tried to rid myself for their sakes. Maybe I’m wrong, but those same people I grew up with would mourn like they are supposed to, but then they would just move on… and maybe appreciate a few dollars I have allocated to them. Maybe not. I’m certain, if they got the money, it would just be folded into daily expenses and forgotten soon after it was gone. Appreciation lost and the weight of the final gift tossed like salt on the kitchen floor. Be rid of the demons that came with…

In my middle years, I remained convinced our lives were our own to do with as we pleased. Dr. Kavorkian was adamant about controlling your own life, and he helped many people find ways to help themselves out of their own suffering situations. He paid a dear price. Even though I felt much like the Dr. I had this part of me that urged me to rethink my internal plans I always kept in my own back pocket. The plans were surely not completely amenable. They never are.

Today, I am still not an old person. I am still the same person internally. I still don’t have faith. I still don’t have a solid relationship. I still don’t feel like I belong. I still don’t feel like people like me or if they claim to, that they are telling the truth. I still feel mostly of little consequence. The people I grew up with, these family people, I of course know they are “family” and soon I will see them and try to help them in ways I am able, but they are not my intentional family.

New term, intentional family. These IF people are the people I absolutely choose to be in contact with. They are the ones who know me, and know that I would fucking lose my mind without. We have no secrets and we keep each other close because the trust we have for each other and the love we have for each other is more important and more solid to me than these people I grew up living with.

I don’t know if this makes sense to anyone else. People don’t tend to react to what I write here so I have no way of knowing. Like the commercial says, I’ll reach 10’s of people. That’s an exaggeration. Regardless of my tiny circle of friends, know this. I am here for you. I WILL show up for you. You can loose your demons on me and I will help you kick their ass. I am not always strong, but I am a bitch ass fighter for you and I absolutely love you.