I haven’t felt like writing much lately. I had two fun long weekends with dear friends, one in the Tahoe area, the other in San Diego.
My shoulder was not happy in Tahoe and within the space of a week I managed to injure it not once but *three* times before and during my San Diego trip. But I decided to just soldier on and insist on having fun regardless.
And I did. But it feels sometimes that the Universe wants to punish us for having too much fun. On the way back home I found out the hard way I am seriously allergic to taro. Trust a gourmand to become allergic to an essentially tasteless root.
Then I got home and received word that my father passed away the week before, when I was out having fun.
This has been hard. We had not the best relationship but lately when I really needed help and was in serious trouble during that long dark period of unemployment he was there for me. I had hopes that we could find an easy path but that’s not going to happen now. He sickened and died suddenly and I never got to see him.
I feel strung out on physical pain, exhaustion and regret. I feel like I haven’t slept since November of 2010 when I hurt my shoulder. My dreams when I do fitfully doze are filled with dark matter. I long to rest and rest some more and eat bacon and watch silly movies but it’s not to be. I work hard during the day and wrestle with the sheets in restless pain at night. Will I ever heal, in body or mind? Will I be able to read a book, knit, cook or even do daily life activities again?
I am trying…
I feel ennui, the lassitude of fatigue and burnout. Going through the motions, brushing my hair and slapping on a bright lipstick smile for the outside world, inside I feel as pallid as indiscriminate boiled beef.
My friends and family have been loving and encouraging. I try to have perspective and notice the nice things around me.
I found this today.
My beloved redwood trees grow silently next to highrises downtown, just a few blocks from my office. I will be back.
I heard my auntie and uncle and cousin were just fine after Hurricane Irene. I spent a Sunday with my dearest childhood friend, we are like two halves of a pea.
Going home tonight I stopped to sit in the sun, just to sit and empty my head and to observe this view.
Awoken by yet another little earthquake it’s a challenge to try sleep again. I feel better writing though, and the cat lies sprawled nearby, hogging the foot of the bed and snoring. Ennui swells and ebbs, the path of life flows on.