Writers block

hmph. It's been so long I've created writers block. There are really only a few things that matter.

I am still alive, I did it. The cancer is also still alive, so I must continue to live my life to kill it. I am working on this daily. Right now I am working on it.

My cat of nearly 17 years had to be euthanized 2 weeks ago tonight. I can't believe it's been 2 weeks already. Boogies ashes are in a box with his name on it. I put the box inside his crate so he can be at home. I'll take it down soon, maybe tonight. Nights are the worst, maybe tomorrow then. I cry everyday and probably will for as long as I live. If I had thousands of dollars I would clone Boogie, I have his DNA.

I think the terrible things that come in 3's, came. First, my precious uncle died, then dad went into the hospital with pneumonia, then Teresa, mom's bestie for 63 years dies. I thought my dad would die. Nope, he didn't, but Boogie did. Someone had to go, for it to be terrible news in 3's. Boogie saved my dad's life for now, I guess. This year has been fucking gnarly, and to make it even stranger, all of the other days where someone wasn't busy being sick and dying, things have been exceptionally good. Go fucking figure.

The CO is kicking my ass. Not exactly news. When I'm awake I feel like I could fall right back asleep. I am so grateful to have cannabis oil, and I feel safe with that option, but implementing the plan is hard. I have to force myself to take it knowing I will be going back to that place of inability. The saving grace is that I take it at night so at least I'm not peeking out of my curtains like a crackhead. All day long I feel like I'm recovering from the night before. Just when it feels like it's worn off it's time to take it again. Le sigh.

My sister and fam are coming soon, 3 weeks until they stay with me. I hope my sunflowers will still be towering but since they are blooming like fools I fear they will be on the outs by then. Everything dies. I will someday die so I better get some shit written down before I do. I have a crapload of stories, especially that one involving a dirty old mans crooked finger, The Haight, underground tunnels.. how am I still alive? Cancer take me down, right, youth couldn't take me down, what is cancer going to do?

I love looking at my sunflowers everyday. I planted them for my uncle back in March. The tallest ones grew to reach the roof. My uncle can see the flowers from his chair in the sky, in his corduroy shorts and polo shirt. Spike's sitting on his lap.

My sadness runs deep because I loved deeply. I keep reminding myself of that, but it doesn't lessen the heaviness. If only I knew what really happens to us when we die. What effect would that have on my behavior now, don't I already live with a keen awareness of my mortality? Who else thinks about dying daily if not a cancer patient?

I see everything as it should be seen, as temporary. Knowing my depression is temporary helps endure it, but it doesn't make it go away. I still have to sit with it. I know it will eventually pass, but being in it with no relief in sight doesn't seem to help one feel less depressed. Between what one knows and what one feels... why can't we in life complete a lesson and then just move on never having to face the same thing again? Instead, every day we have to face life, death, and figure out what to eat for lunch.