Another reply to Lori (and anyone else who might be reading this)

I’ll try to be concise, as I know how tiresome I can be. I also know how hard it is for me to actually be concise, but I’ll at least acknowledge that I should attempt to do so.

I’m not well -- physically, emotionally, spiritually or socially. I just don’t have it in me to engage in anything or feel like I am of any value to anyone. I’m isolating myself as much as possible so as not to spread my diseased mental state.

I don’t want the obligatory pity chit chat, where I have to feign socially appropriate responses and act like I believe that the people who are inquiring about my well being actually care. I mean, sure, they probably do to some extent, like when one follows a news story with casual interest.

In my self-centered world, I suppose I want to feel like I am worth the effort to save. So I put myself on an island and kick the rowboat out to sea. And I wait for someone to notice I’m missing and send out a search party. I really am messed up, but I want to feel like I matter enough for someone to grab a hold of me and pull me out of my mess. To kindly, and with compassion, do whatever it takes to get through to me and make me feel loved.

In short, I’m delusional. I’m lazy and want someone else to do for me what I can’t or won’t do for myself. Convince me that I am somehow special or worthwhile or something worth going all in for.

Because I rarely make these efforts with others, and when I do it usually backfires and I come off all “creepy,” I know I shouldn’t expect it of others. I’ve spent a lifetime not cultivating close friendships or relationships, so this is what I get. I am going to die alone, with my cats and dogs – and that’s only because they didn’t have a choice in who adopted them.

So, I failed at being concise. I am trying to be real, and unfortunately, right now, that is ugly. I know it is, and that’s why I’m making myself into a pariah. I can’t face the world in my condition. I know why Sharon isolated herself so much from family and friends. No one wants to be thought of in such a vulnerable, crippled state. My disease is different, and I certainly don’t want to compare what I’m going through to what she did.

However, getting one’s head out of one’s ass isn’t as easy some make it out to be.

All that emotional crap notwithstanding here are a few fun facts:

The town of Paradise, which I called home for 10 years has been 95 percent burned to the ground. This most likely includes my father in law’s house and the house Sharon and I spent our first 10 years together in. If you follow the news you probably know the death toll is rising daily. It is currently at 48. 52,000 people are displaced. 200 are missing.

I am hosting a friend of Sharon’s family along with his 83 year old mother, 3 dogs and 3 cats. They are evacuated from an area that didn’t burn, but was highly threatened by the spread of the wind driven fire. It’s been 4 days and no word yet on when they can return home. I got a phone call saying they needed a place to stay and I didn’t say “no.” I may be a pariah, but I’m not going to turn away someone’s 83 year old mother. 

 

They are very polite and respectful of my privacy. The situation is less than ideal for their 3 cats and little pug dog which have to stay in their bedroom so as not to terrify my cats. The fire isn’t likely to reach their house, so it is just a temporary arrangement.

The smoke from the fire is likely to linger far longer and is preventing me from going outside much, hence, my daily walks are suspended for the time being.

That’s about it. Thanks for asking. I get to feeling pretty low, and I guess at least the fact that someone asks about me is better than not asking. Sorry I’m so prickly. I can be very difficult, and I’m not even sure, myself, if I’m really worth the effort.

And I’ve taken up the use of way too many commas, that’s apparent.