Things

Things I'm trying not to dwell on. I seem unable NOT to dwell today, however; I don't feel good, I don't know what's going on, and the combination of the two makes me weepy and worried. Once the worrying thing starts, all the worrisome stuff jumps on the train eventually.

My sister Marie sent an email a few days ago that included the following paragraph:

We are waiting to hear from [Alan] and [Katherine] about their appointment with a maternal fetal specialist regarding advice about any future possible pregnancies. Her obstetrician recommended she not get pregnant and look at adoption or surrogacy. Her kidneys seem to be returning to normal but they would not handle a second trauma of any sort, according to the renal specialist.

This isn't entirely unexpected news, but I'm so sad. So sad. I don't even want to talk to her or anyone in my family, I'm cowering under a rock in fact, having cut myself off from them--and most everyone else--while playing the "end of the school year busy-ness" card. It's hard to see children, especially new healthy babies. I just want to crawl under by bed.

My other sister, Jean, sent photos of their trip this month with all their kids and kids' SOs. In the first photo, you can see my oldest niece (in that family), Rosellen, her brother-in-law, her boyfriend, and my nephew Jesse. Way back to the right of the photo is my sister in her wheelchair.





This a closer photo of my sister on a different day of the trip, which looks like it might have been one of her "good days." She is sitting quite as straight as she can on her walker with a built-in seat. She looks a lot older than 57.

A good friend of ours just found out she has several messed up discs in her back.

We have friends who are out of work.

Beast is not enjoying his job (insert snort here).

I am woefully underprepared for the next six weeks of my life, both logistically and emotionally.

Church is doing what church does at this point in the year. I'm tired and want an extended vacation from it...

...and from the rest of my responsibilities.

Let's just not discuss my job. I love it; it's making me crazy.

Sparky's body has decided to grow again, so now we MUST shop for clothes for him. He needs pants for Monday's continuation, and shorts for summer, and possibly a million other things that I'm unaware of because he's a fucking clueless moron about everything clothes-related!

I've dropped so many balls all over the place in the past several weeks that I can't hear anything from the bouncing and caroming going on around me. I know people who are deeply hurting, and I can't do a thing about it.

And no, there is no out, no exit, no way around most of this. There is only through it, the Dark Forest of the Present, the World of Deflected Responsibilities.

Ugh. So wish I were ten years old.
{1:30 p.m. . edit: and I'm cranky over the concept of plagiarism right now...nothing like finding something you've done re-created on another URL...}