I'm alive. I'm here. I didn't do one crazy thing all day. I stayed in and did some laundry, watched some mindless TV, tried not to feel guilty for wasting a day of my life. I comforted myself with the fact that the weather is drear and not fit to enjoy outside anyway. I told myself I was too agitato and unfocused to drive anywhere. That was not a lie. I don't drive drunk and I don't drive crazy.
I ate some fruitcake. Is it just me or is the Costco fruitcake not as good this year? Shit. I should be making my own. I heated up some of last night's supper. First, grouper which I ate with hot sauce, then some stone ground grits that I heated up in the same bowl as stewed tomatoes. Comfort food. When I was a child, one of my favorite things to eat was rice with stewed tomatoes and bacon. Or so my mother told me. I don't really remember it. I remember that eternal metal container by the stove that held bacon grease. The same position is now held beside my stove by my jug of olive oil. I wonder how in the world I'll manage to live longer than my grandparents who used their bacon grease, ate great fatty roasts and white rice and white bread and white potatoes and white lettuce and lived into their eighties and nineties. I remember how my mother, in the last decade of her life, eschewed unhealthy fats or even fats at all and ate frozen fat-free yogurt instead of ice cream, drank her little diet Cokes, clung to her skim milk, her fat free cottage cheese with tomatoes for lunch, rarely ate meat, certainly never took a drink, watched Dr. Oz religiously and worried obsessively about bed bugs.
I talked to my brother out in Washington today. He and I are working on repairing our relationship and that makes me happy. We don't discuss "repairing our relationship." We talk about childhood memories and people we remember from the past. He told me today that the father of a friend of mine whose brother was a friend of his used to take him fishing and what a sweet, peach of a man he'd been. I don't remember that at all although I remember the man, of course, and I always thought he was very nice, a peaceful smiling soul, and I'm glad he played a part in my brother's life. A good father and my brother says that he was something of a father-figure to him. My brother has always been good at seeking out father-figures and I think that comes from an internal wisdom and I like that about him.
I, of course, sought out people like John Lennon and B.B. King and most recently, Keith Richards, to be my pretend daddies, possibly because a real and present man might be too scary. Who knows? Not me. But at least this brother has never had to confuse sexual behavior and fathers.
I sigh and exhale deeply. There is so much I need to let go. I remember my friend Sue who, before she died was at a birth with me because the mother was a good friend of hers. She lay on the couch in the birth center after the baby had been born and she was crying.
"We carry so much fucking garbage around with us," she said. "And most of it isn't even ours to carry."
Before she died, Sue let all of her garbage go, I think, and she had a most incredibly beautiful and peaceful death. She taught me so much.
Ah, well. It's one of those days when I have been still and quiet and let the feelings come and go and come again as they will. I haven't fought anything, I haven't had the energy to fight. Or to flee, for that matter. Which leaves one with nothing to do but feel.
And I just talked to Jessie who got in from work and opened her box of Christmas presents from us while we were on the phone together and so that was a sweet and funny celebration.
I am hoping that tomorrow I'm going to wake up and feel some good energy. A spark, a quark, a tiny flicker in the dark, at least. Enough to go out into the world a little although the thought makes me quiver a bit. The laundry is done, the chickens are tucked up and Miss Ozzie gave me another egg today which, on a day like today, was a totem of true and real goodness that I could hold in my hand.
We all have days of pain. We get through them. Our brains take in what they must and if all works as it should, smooths things over enough for us to go on. And if we are lucky, we can throw off some of the garbage which is not ours to carry in the first place.
God. Sue was so smart. I miss her so much.
Let's all rest and restore.