Give the comb a job

Life is predictably unpredictable. The road comes up, the road goes down, opposites, relievers, resting, charging. Some nights I can't sleep at all from prickly, hot, sweaty, itchy skin and then I end up napping at 7 pm only to be awake now, writing to get sleepy again.

To live in the comfortable tidal zone, the ocean washing fore and aft, songs like Fire and Rain play in the background, underlining the poignant clarity of each shiny, tarnished, beautifully tragic execution of this here life. For good, or for bad. To stay in this zone, isn't that the goal, of the comfort-seeking human? Unlike purification by restriction, by having less. We always want more comfort and it makes us spoiled, it doesn't lead to happiness, because seeking happiness through comfort is a trick.

I don't like leaving the tidal pools, but nature made me a natural-born swimmer. Open ocean is where one earns their chops. Nature is a wise, playful, patient master of the plan who can seem somewhat cold-hearted at times. She isn't mean, necessarily, she just lets things happen, she does not intervene. This can be seen as cruel, but it actually is not. It just is.

I've been existing within the comfort of my own denial and self-inflicted positivity. This is a burden, make no mistake. The whole "be positive" job I have, the one we all have in the face of calamity, is just that. It's, being "on", but not just for others, for yourself as well.

Sometimes life is like a Damien Rice song. As much as this guy makes me want to slit my wrists sitting on the tallest mountain at dawn clutching my most masterfully gorgeous letter of resignation, at another turn in time his music can affect my mood by allowing a kindred feeling to blossom that's both supportive and comforting. Relativity is the key to the moment. You must know this to keep perspective.

Today, at my onc. appointment I saw my mortality through the clinical eyes of another. I feel positive about things mostly, unless I'm having a physically poor day and have to stop doing everything. I hate those days, I don't hate them, I just hate that they remind me of things I don't like to think about. I like being alive, for better or worse, this is all I have, but seeing the pained expression of my doctor as we discuss where she can direct me, should I choose to take the assignment, really did me in today. I felt like I was losing. There is no data for people with my dx for the conventional treatment I am doing. It's a hell of a lot like the holistic road I'm taking too. There is no data, so basically nobody knows anything, nobody can tell me anything, there is no assurance. Unless I can afford a real treatment center, I am playing at being my own doctor still.

I haven't let myself cry. I have been brave, strong and hard-working since the liver dx. I'm trying to plan a fundraiser that's happening in less than one month, I work as a waitress very late hours not getting home before 1:30 a.m. most shifts because I can't fulfill a commitment to an animal job, I have a full schedule of holistic food and medicine to make everyday, animals to clean feed, and love, a house to keep up, exercise to do daily, the new weight training classes are a wonderful gift- but tiring, shopping, research, leaving the house (!) so many days I don't, I can't.

My sister's best friend just died from breast cancer, just. I can't even, right now. Sometimes things I don't want to feel I just don't feel. I will do that later. With my own stuff and thinking of the pain my  sister feels, I just can't. I haven't caved in, I don't want to.

I am good at compartmentalizing my pain, I come to play. There has got to be a time to grieve though. When is the right time to grieve for oneself? How about never, is never an option? I don't have time, I don't have as much help with this event this time around. I am trying to do more myself this time, I hate feeling like a burden. When I think of previous sacrifices and generosity I have been bestowed with from past fundraisers, it's crazy, little mounds form hills, it takes a village really. Unfortunately, cancer is a greedy MF and always requires more more more.. I am so sorry that it does and that I have to include others in this thing.

Is all the effort worth it? How valuable is my life? Do I matter that much? In two generations nobody will know who I was, so think about that. A mere blip. Why do I try so hard to stick around, maybe being dead is great. Maybe being dead is so great I should stop fighting and just let go. There are answers out there but they all seem to cost a fortune, does anyone want to give me a fortune? I dream of working with my beloved animals again soon, but it seems less and less like a reality, more like the dream I had before sacrificing my life to learn how to care for them. I have the skills, but now I don't have the time tickets.

Metaphorically speaking, I cut off my hair to afford a beautiful pearled comb that now has no hair to adorn.

I hope tomorrow is a better day. I have a lot to face and get through. I ask that strength come from something greater than myself and money falls out of the sky. I do so want to get better so I can focus on someone other than myself. I need to help others, my foundation is dying for attention.