Enough of That

There are storms rolling in from Oklahoma today. There are ants crawling on the table. The lawn needs to be mowed, the laundry done. No matter how sick I am, life goes on around me anyway, because life doesn't care. It is the world continuing to turn, kids refusing to stop growing, hours on a course that in some way, in some form, will continue on forever, with or without me. I can choose to bemoan it, ignore it, or deny it, but no matter what I do life still passes me by. Some days I sleep through it. Other days I try to press my legs and arms against its walls and stop it, like on the three story slide at the haunted house that nearly ripped my ankle in two. There are times I wish there was more, that I could do more with what I've been given, and know that surely on Judgement Day when our statistics are read I will have spent 96.8% of my life sleeping. My mind says there is no reason I shouldn't be able to go to work, to clean the kitchen, to weed the garden, but the moment I try it my body rejects such things. There is hell to pay if I do not heed that rejection; first the pain, then the stiffness, then the tiredness, all of which can have pepperings of nausea, lightheadedness, dizziness, and other random idiocy throughout the day. At least once I will feel this is it, this is the end. Or at least this is where I'm going to faint. Half of my illness seems to be the fear of getting sick in front of other people, the other half the fear of getting sick and being alone. How do you be friendly to others, how do you have a social life, even an outdoor life, when at any moment a stabbing pain could shoot through your body, or you could lose control of any function, or even collapse? How do you go about your daily business when there are things like the temperature, sunlight, blood glucose/blood pressure, where's-the-nearest-bathroom, and-do-these-people-have-a-defibrillator, to worry about? Why does everything feel like such an ordeal, whether it be simply mailing a letter or showing up somewhere you were invited? Today is one of those days I want to say fuck it, who cares, I'm too tired anyway, the world can go to hell.

But the world doesn't give a crap what I say. The world says there are three kids who are getting out of school early and it's going to be storming when I go pick them up. It tells me if anyone ever comes to my house and sees what a hell-hole it's become they'll report it and the county will have it condemned. It reminds me that even though I feel I could lay down and die I'd get no sympathy and that even those who cared the most about it would have to go on. It's required. Time doesn't stop. We have no choice about that.

The only thing we can choose is how loudly we bitch along the way.