I was excited about doing the blog. On days like today though, I am unsure about it. How much do you disclose? I read some blogs where people go naked in their despair, happiness, dropping chocolate on the floor 20 minutes ago and eating it despite the 30 second rule.
The Pained Life, for me, is not just 30 years and counting. It is 50 plus years and counting.
Do I write about the pain caused by my family? Do I tell you folks whom I do not know but know are here the things that have been done to me? Do I feign optimism on days when truth and pessimism are the words of the day?
It is a beautiful day. I want to go out and do something with someone but there is no one to do it with, and really how much do I want to stress the eye anyway?
For me, as much as Spring is my favorite season; so beautiful, all the flowers, colors, sights - bunnies and folks coming out of hibernation, and smells, absent the allergies how can you not glory in it?, it and summer are the worst for me.
I cannot drive at night. It used to be because my left eye would erupt in pain the minute a headlight came towards me. The pain would cause me to close both eyes and involuntarily take my hands off the steering wheel. No one was safe. Now I have a tiny cataract in the right eye. Everything has a glare at night: headlights, street lights, bike shoes lights. No one is safe.
Fall and winter have shorter days. The shorter the day, the less sunlight; and the less sunlight the sooner the dusk and dark when I have no choice but to stay home.
The sun streams into my bedroom window. It wakes me early. It is beautiful. And frustrating. How many hours do I have to fill before it is too late for me to go out?
The frustration of the day leads me to thoughts, places, where I prefer not to go. Why did the people who are supposed to be my family desert me, so many, many years ago, at a time when my life looked it was going where I wanted it to go? Lies have been told to people who used to like me. Tales based on untruths passed down to the next generation.
A few of us from the church sang at a member's funeral yesterday. I listened as the woman's granddaughter talked about her wonderful memories of her Grandmom. I teared up as I heard the choking in her voice. I thought selfishly about my aloneness.
When I fell, there was only one person I could think to call and ask for a ride home, but I knew he would be at work. The cab company did not answer their phone. Biting back the embarrassment I felt at having no one I called the church. Immediately I heard a very warm and upset voice, "Absolutely we will get someone there for you." Within 10 minutes or so, Jean (pseudonym) was there. We barely knew each other but she was so sweet to me, and very happy she could help me. I was inordinately greatful; but once home there was no one to call me, no one to ask; is there anything I can do, anything you need? The ultimate thought while the granddaughter spoke at the funeral: When I die who, if anyone, would speak for me?
I look at my life. It ended the day the trigeminal neuralgia started. Is that an overdramatization? In one way no. In another yes.
It ended in that I could not have the experiences that would have helped correct the bad lessons I learned early on in life. It stopped my dreams of being on a stage, of singing professionally, of having a life like any other.
It did not end because I am so very lucky. I can walk, and talk, and think and feel. I have a roof over my head, money to pay my bills, people/friends I 'talk' to online, a nephew for my family, and though no one right here, in front of me, 'real life'friends (people I used to feel and touch and play with, go for a coffee, etc.) with whom I have a continuing online or phone relationship.
I always like to end things on an uplifting note. Forcing myself to do so with this post has also forced me to look at the up side.
So now that I have made the frown turn upside down, I think it is time to end the post.
And the thought occurs, have I shared too much, even while giving hints and teases but ultimately not being very forthright at all?
Do I say The heck with it and hit the publish button?