Love Is All You Need

For the most part, I don’t actually mind getting older. Sure, there are the indignities our bodies undergo as we transition into middle age—parts shrink or expand, they grow spots or protest certain activities loudly and painfully. That’s all largely “meh” in my book, as it’s just part of life’s cycle. Aging is also usually preferable to the alternative—except when it means you've reached an age where friends start dying of natural causes.

That, dear interwebs, sucks unmitigated amounts of ass.

My RenFaire community recently lost a friend. Brian and I weren't super close, but there’s a bond between performers that’s a kind of shortcut. You don’t have to battle through life’s trenches together to develop a healthy level of trust and respect; a weekend or two on stage or in the lanes will get you there.

But when someone from the community dies, there’s a double-whammy. In addition to my own sadness, I’m processing that of my Faire Family. There’s a hole in that world now, and it takes an additional toll on my psyche to feel the reverberations of waves of grief across those sympathetic fibers that connect us as Family of Choice. For me, that is far worse than my own sense of loss.

When I found out, I wrote a Facebook post exhorting everyone to never fail to let friends and loved ones know how much they are loved. I also reaffirmed my love for them. 

I fear, however, that it is not enough.

The Road to Acceptance

I'm in an introspective headspace lately, internets, so my bloggyposts will probably reflect that. But who knows—I might rebel soon (imagine that!) and boomerang back to inanity (face it—it's just a matter of time).

In my more worn out and reflective state of mind—and seriously, self, what is up with the having to get exhausted before you will tune in and pay attention to what's going on? Other than, ya know, the obvious distraction technique and other such nonsense—I've discovered yet one more counterproductive thing I do.* When get to feeling as I have been lately, instead of just acknowledging the mental or physical fatigue, honoring it, working through it, and such, I get a little embarrassed and angry.

What. the. HELL.

Nothing like kicking yourself when you're down, right? 'Cuz that's all helpful and stuff.

Sheesh.

I don't know if it's my brain needing some kind of justification for the tired—which is a distinct possibility, given how I take after my perfectionist father (who also lays claim to a Protestant Work Ethic despite being a cradle Catholic)—or guilt of some kind (see previous comment re: being raised Catholic). Could be a little from column A and little from column B, I suppose.

Now that I'm pondering it (by way of vomiting words onto a pixelated page), it might be yet another way to distance myself from the actual emotion of a thing by intellectualizing it. (Those of you who know me IRL can quit smashing your respective foreheads into your desks and/or guffawing now, thanks.)

Malaise doesn't go on sandwiches

There's some malaise happening in my world these days, internets. (It sounds like a condiment for moody people, doesn't it? Then that makes me wonder what ennui would taste like, only I realize I don't care...)

ANYway...

I'm re-realizing how much time and energy the business of living life takes. (This became terrifyingly clear to me during radiation for my Boobonic Plague... some days, just managing to brush my teeth and get dressed was a major victory.) It's kind of stunning if you think about it, really. I mean, even on the days I plan to be lazy (yes, I'm just Type-A enough to schedule such things—don't judge!), I still need to eat, which means if my budget doesn't allow delivery that there will be cooking, which equates to dishes to do. Then there's getting the mail, or getting dressed, or a million other things that don't seem like much until you stop and count them. And that's not even taking work and related tasks into account.

Grocery shopping. Scrubbing the toilet. Taking out the trash. (I would say dusting but dust is considered a protective covering at my house so... yeah.) Mail. Laundry. Yard work. These are things that have to get done no matter what state of mind or health one is in. I don't even want to add up how much time that takes the average person, because I already know it's significant.