02/02/2005
Ain’t this the shit! Jobless and crazy yet feeling the best physically I have in ages. Could this be what my caregivers have been yacking about? Me at home in order to monitor my recuperation? In that case why do I feel so guilty and useless? Is it because I’m not use to being taken care of?
Yeah – you’re listening to the late night ramblings of a fool. Maybe I should disclose all of my shit and apply for life-long disability. But I fear that will grow old long before I took my last breath.
Tori Amos is serenading me as I write – my companion in the late nights. Conceivably as crazy as I feel. Doubtless why I feel a connection to her melodies and lyrics. So, here we are.
For the past week or so, I have not been listening to much more than Tori Amos, Over the Rhine, and Radiohead. All the feel good music available on the radio (and my CD collection) has felt rather irksome. In all likelihood, it is on account of my impression that the Doctor Feel Goods have no idea where I live. My opinion is that they dance and shout without substance. They fail to see the leaves withering along the path they blindly walk. They ignore the kitten sick and homeless on the trail because it does not line up with their worldview.
If you think about it, I am as guilty as those I malign are. I expect them to understand my world as much as they count on me to comprehend theirs. We stand on different shores looking across the gulf at each other confused as to why the other does not make a move toward what is seen as truth and life and hope and…
So back to my original thought. What is it about my life? Must I be financially poor in order to be physically rich? How do I bring the parts of my life together for wholeness?
At this time, I can rest when my body requires it. I get up as my life speaks. Stay in all day as needed and run errands as my body dictates.
This life method does not fit into the American system yet I believe I may be able to say goodbye to one or more of my meds by being able to listen to my sorry ass and work within it’s rhythms.
I feel as if I’m in a catch-22: 40-hour weeks and help my doctor pay for the new wing in his clinic or listen to my cadence, work according to it, and be poor. Surely, there has to be a middle ground. There has to be…but how in the fuck does one find it?
Peace,
zss
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