monday
I had a really great talk with Dwight. We had two conversations; one was wonderfully long, and we talked about being best friends. We also talked a lot about movies, and one called All of Us Strangers came up. He mentioned it. I knew of it and had plans to see it, so I told him I’d watch it that night. And right away he said, “No! Don’t watch it.” And he repeated the same idea again several times. So last night I watched it.
It took me a long time to figure out the story. It’s brilliantly told in the film. However, the protagonist’s concern is coming to terms with distant parents, compounded by being gay. When it was over, I closed my eyes as I lay unmoving on my very Freudian chaise. I didn’t move for over an hour. I just lay there while my mind went on a journey through memory, deduction, and comprehension.
I lost emotional control, briefly, a couple of times, sucked into the story of a protagonist as close to being me as any movie character ever will be. My jerks and my extreme vulnerability made me want to hide. As I lay there, as often happens when my symptoms explode, I pondered my existence, and I went on a wild and extremely emotional ride.
I recalled talking with someone who described my parents as horrible abusive. I stopped the conversation, and I said I didn’t like to hear that. I’ve always defended them. I’ve always said that I don’t know they’re story. Always! And I’ve been proud of that. Well, last night on that couch, I asked myself: Why do I do that?
I came, eventually, to an answer. I think I don’t want to be an abused person. If I think of them as abusive, it makes me an abused person. That seems to make sense to me; however, accepting myself as an abused person seems to be the end goal of my breakdown.
For eight years, I’ve understood myself as someone who had a breakdown that left me with permanent symptoms. I have always used the past tense about it ever since its onset. But I don’t think that way anymore. I’ve decided that I should not use the past tense when I speak of my breakdown. It ain’t over. It’s ongoing. Also, this interminable thinking about my past is getting to me. Last night, my past felt like a toxic cloud closing in on me from all sides.
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I watched Poor Things and can never recover the time I wasted watching it. I was bored all the way through it. What a waste of money and energy. An Oscar? For that?
wednesday
I am very glad I am continuing with Dr. S. The shakes are really getting me down. Life is getting me down with this damned FND. I’m mad because of the shaking.
I had a great, great visit with John and Bunny. It was perfect. Everything went well thanks to having Sheba with me, and reservations, their effusive welcome and my total comfort in their company. Also, the ferries were at, perhaps, 40% occupancy. That was nice too. It was calm and quiet in the cabin when I briefly visited it. I spend most of my time on the ferry in the car.
When we disembarked, we went straight to the parking lot behind Park Royal, where there’s a trail to the seaside off—leash dog park. I’d barely entered the park when I heard someone call my name. It was Leslie! I hugged her like I was dying. We were both thrilled to discover each other. We walked the park and had a good chin wag while our dogs identified billions of flavours of urine.
Then we went to J&B’s place, where we had a nice visit, and then we went for a drive around the shoreline of North Vancouver, and it amazed me to see all the construction going on. It’s sad; all I saw wat the deconstruction of memories. But we went to a lovely calm, bright, little restaurant for lunch before returning home.
After a nap, John and I took Sheba for a lovely long walk along the West Van seawall. We walked in spectacular sunshine and lovely warm temperatures. I felt as though I was on holiday. And then we went home for a delicious dinner, and all day, except for the naps, we were talking.
John is a unique and wonderful fellow. When I think of him, to write about him here, I tear up. His friendship is part of the glue that keeps me together. He and Bunny… well, it’s a privilege to be their friend. I have belt beloved by John since 1970, and by Bunny, just a few fewer. It was John who introduced me to cuisine. They are family to me. And I slept like the pill I took said I would.
The next morning, I got up early and walked Sheba. When I got back, J&B were up, so we chatted over a light snack, and then Her Highness and I left to catch the ferry.
I am very glad I went. John lives near the ferry terminal; I had nothing to do with the city, or parking, or changes in traffic flow. And we were in the neighbourhood of my childhood. Yesterday morning, I was fluent with J&B, I felt so, so comfortable.
I had a wonderful, wonderful time. Part of that wonderfulness was coming home again so quickly. Back with my kitty cats. Back with my bed and the fireplace. And back for the weather: we’re expecting a week of sunny days and temperatures in the high teens.
Yard work incoming.
wednesday
I’m very excited about spending the day working in the garden after her Highness and I go for our morning walk. I’m going to spend the day tidying up the backyard and the gardens. It’s supposed to reach around 12° this afternoon and get warmer through the week. It definitely feels like Winter is over.
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| I miss having a haircut. I went bald at 22. |
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