So here it is, 1:30 am, a time that I should not be seeing more and more, but I am. Why? because I am contemplating life, existence, and of course mortality. I am trying to work through things and I can't seem to get past the depression, the agony of it all, and the reality of the situation. I know my father is living day in and out with all of the checklists in place. He gets one thing done and checks the box. Last Thursday was utter chaos... Seizures will do that. They will ruin a perfectly good plan in an instant. My father after her seizure told me that he was fairly confident she wasn't going to wake or be in there when she did. He thought he had lost her, and when he didn't, he went back to the status quo of the checklist. There is safety in a list. There is a structure to lists, conventions, and routines and yet I have lost all of them. I cannot focus. It is like fog settles over me and I cannot concentrate. The conventions of the day seem lost to me. When to eat, when to do things as they are all wrapped up in my mom at the moment.
I long for home, for balance, for the normalcy that I crave, and yet... I know that my problems will follow me wherever I go. I am trying my hardest to tackle things head-on, but the fog gets thicker. There are things I am forgetting, things I should be doing, and yet I cannot find the capacity to do them. This static time period I have found myself resonates with the Nine Inch Nails song Every Day is Exactly the Same. It smacks of everything I am feeling, including the anger and the hatred for the situation I am in. Don't get me wrong. This isn't a situation where I am angry at my mother, but the anger is directed to the situation, the death of my normal, the death of what I knew, and the death of my notions of where we are and the hope we had. I am angry at going through this process and I am angry that my mother is so young. It wells up inside of me and spills over. I find myself biting my tongue to keep the vitriol from spilling all over the place and the fury hurting those around me. I am so much more than that, and I need to utilize my composure to hang onto me, or maybe I just let it out and scream "FUCK" into the universe and not calculate or think about the consequence for once. Just live as chaos for a minute or two. Sometimes it is necessary to give in to those moments, to ride them out... maybe I will.
I have been also feeling the void, the empty and hollow that is depression sneaking in. It follows the anger for after. It lies dormant and allows for the empty to take over, no confidence, no self-love, just absolute ache and torment that is a lack of serotonin and dopamine. Depression, from a psychological standpoint, is a chemical imbalance. It is situational to the environment but also physiological and can be managed... but to go through it, feels insurmountable. All tasks feel heavy. The mirror becomes your enemy, and the world out there seems too difficult for words. It is a prison of my own making and as an extrovert, seclusion is torture.
I guess what I am trying to say is that there is no clear path, that things are quite muddled and static at the moment. We are in a state of inertia. There are no more words... just the suffering. Just to suffer more.
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