2nd May, 2AM

 A pretty good day today ( healthwise ).

I went out for a properly distanced lunch. ( a fancy middle class fish finger sandwich if you're asking, with an equally fancy salad, and not so fancy handful of chips ). And I was kinda normal.

I flagged mid afternoon-ish. I had been... too normal. Too much energy expenditure. I felt it in the afternoon. The siren call of just sleeping pulled hard. But I resisted. Be normal. Be normal. Be normal. For christs sake be normal.

Not easy.

I've stuffed my face today. Lots of food. Not sure if I'm still shrinking. People seem to think I'm still losing weight. I've lost a big old chunk of weight. It's the Near Death Weight Loss Plan. I don't recommend it. I put on a belt today I've not had on in 5 months. I had to punch a new hole some six inches further round than the smallest one. The belt now also wraps around to my arse. Trousers still fell off. Uhh. Ok. A *lot* of weight gone.

Today I got to see my mom. This is the first time I've seen her in. . . . . .

yikes. . . .

I don't recall. 3 years ? 4 years ?

Yikes.

It's the first time I've spoken to her in. . . months.

In december / january she was unresponsive for several days. They pumped her full of morphine, and thought she was done.

We couldn't get to her today. We had to sit in a surreal "pod". Imagine a prison meet, where they talk through the glass window. It was like that. But a bit nicer. My brother and I both went. Gown. Gloves. Mask. The full PPE works. And behind 1/4 inch plexi glass. It was weird. And made it harder.

And so I saw my frail mom. 83. Ravaged by MS. In a gilded cage of a not prison. Behind plexi glass. Sitting in a wheel chair. But for all that, she looked.. good. "Good". I've seen her look far worse. And she chatted. And was thinking straight. And was plenty sharp enough.

It was nice to talk to her.

And also not nice.

Holy fuck. I struggled at times to keep a lid on the sadness.

Be positive Johnny. Chat to your mom. She's very happy you are here. She asked how I was doing. She knew I had nearly kicked the bucket. She worried about me.

So we chatted. I kept it mostly light. But my mom and I have had some thoroughly dark chats. And I don't baby her unlike everyone else. If she wants to know, I tell her. I told her frankly I thought I was going to die. But still. Kept it positive. Doing better. Getting there. Good.

And I continually wrestled with the sads. A lot of things were going through my mind. The awfulness of old age and fucking you up that hardcore. The difficulty of being a prisoner isolated from your whole family except for a 30 minute visit once a week. It's prison. By another name. Oh a comfortable one. But no doubt a prison. I reflected on the absolute shitty horror that sees your life, all you have worked for, all you are, reduced to your final days, locked in a room, comfortable, but... shit.

Very. Very. Sad. I felt so sad for my mom.The plexi glass super not helped. It just heightened the sense of isolation.

But. She is in the best place she can be. Looked after 24/7. Good food. Nice place. You cannot do more.

Nevertheless. To me. In my heart of hearts. It feels cruel. Yes it's the best you can do. But it's the best of a bad situation. I cannot get past how horrifically cruel life is. Fuck your life positivity. This is life. On a goddamn scrap pile at the end of years of struggling. Suffering. Eaten alive. Don't tell me life is a lovely experience and you have to enjoy it. Bullshit. The universe is a nihilistic cthuluian horror.

But she likes it at the home now. Quite happy. Chuffed she is in such a nice place ( they even have a goddamn petting zoo bit out front with ducks and geese and a pond and yada ). I asked if I could move in there.

I am not sure I super believe her she she says she is very happy. I believe her somewhat. But I know she'd rather be with her family. I *know* it. And I know she is not beyond slapping a happier skew on things so that she doesn't worry anyone.

But I'm a dark little fucker. And I notice.

I struggled a few times to stop from suddenly bursting into tears. It was a lot harder than I thought. But I pulled it off without anyone the wiser.

I am glad I saw her.

I am not as strong as she is.

I cannot save her.

I can't do shit.

Useless.

She is oddly, in her old age, riddled by a degenerative disease, possibly the strongest, nicest person she has been in her life. There were many years where she wasn't nice. Not even close. Things change. Perspectives shift.

Ho hum.

My brother was upbeat.

I was not.

My sister in law quizzed me. Did she look good. What did you think.

Mmmmmmmmm. I said. Dubiously.

What she says.

It was good. She was happy. . . .

and ?

It's also very sad.

I choked. Silently. I couldn't get any more words out because the sadness came up and strangled me.

Go on she said.

Ha. I'm not pausing for effect I said in my head. I am wrestling invisibly with not goddamn bursting into tears.

She pressed for more details.

It's sad. I repeated pathetically before choking again.

Hard.

She asked my brother. She looked good he said. Best she has in years. She looked back at me.

And sad. Rob is more sunny I said. I am not.

Life is cruel. I get that lesson over and over and over and goddamn over. I get it. I GET IT. Anyone that says different is either goddamn living a charmed life, lying, stupid, or deluded. You want fucking happy. Let me show you the people suffering. The people dying for want of a home from a wartorn country. The people persecuted for their sexuality, or beliefs, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The disease. The suffering. The sheer injustice of it. People with bazillions of dollars living in the same place as people with nothing, dying on the streets. Police beating the shit out of people for kicks. Stick your head in the sand. Ignore that. Focus on the bullshit in your life, the new microwave, the new car, pay off your mortgage, ignore the horror, do your next work task.

Such epic bullshit. Go watch the film Machines ( 2016). Go see what somewhere near the bottom of the shit barrel of capitalism looks like.

Some days its hard to shut out the screaming. I can *feel* it. But. Don't get me wrong. You can't live like that. I know. You can't switch on to every pain, every death in the world. Your face would melt. Your context is shrunk down to your locality. Your nearest and dearest. Perhaps you wander into considering further afield before returning to your small sphere. Ignorance is bliss. I don't hold anyone in contempt. We are small. The problem is big.

My brain... doesn't always work that way however. I can't help it. Sometimes the context radius expands. Takes in all that suffering ( never the joy, pfft, boo ). Please wait. Gathering data. Analysing problem. . . It makes me.. so sad.. so.. pissed off. At capitalism. At our governments. At the sheer level of human bullshittery that allows such suffering to trundle on. Dispeakable. And then like a switch. Thankfully. It overloads. Problem solution finder task has failed. Stack overflow. And my internals switch off. For a bit. Or a longer bit. The eyes glaze, the mouth drools and my context shrinks down to monkey see, monkey do in front of me. Live in the moment sayeth the wise shrinks. Yeah. Cool. Let me show you what I fucking see. Open up buttercup, let me fill your head with awareness. Great. Isn't it. Do not. Stick your head. Beyond that veil. I do. Because yay. And huzzah. Give me all the informations. Give it. Stuff it in my head. Make me scream. Rip my eyes out. But keep on giving it to me. Let. Me. Solve. The. Problems. Til.. I... burn..... out.

Remember to smile. Remember to look normal. Don't let the tentacles escape.

Masochistic. At best. Bonkers. Yes. Did I mention I am bonkers ? So bonkers in so many ways.

It always makes me think of the garbled quote about seeing the face of God and going instantly insane, because of the enormity of it, your insignificance, the knowledge of all the pain and life and blah. I get that. Yeah. I can see how that metaphor works. Too much is...too much. Even though you really want to know the secrets. Overload city. Cthulu also works.

Anyway. See. I have circled down into a dark drain. Triggered by seeing my mom.

I'm ok. It's cool.

Hmm.

Chatted business with Andy today. Always problem clients to deal with. Strategies to hash out. But apart from that a few things came up left field.

Andy, watching me circle the drain, has been scarred second hand. It has scared him. It has scared him how shit the NHS have been. It has scared him that he is of a similar age, and I nearly kicked it. He's eating healthier, watching his weight, in his own words, it has opened his eyes a bit. The NHS does *not* have your back.

Such is the wreckage I have incurred in the last few months. Pretty it has not been.

We all hope he said, we make it to 70's or something and die peacefully in your sleep. My extended suffering has rocked him to his core.

I get it. It's not cool.

Also.

You should try it from over here. It was a lot more toasty.

Saw one of my nephews today. It's been a good few years again. He is somewhat a vague shadow of me. Into a lot of stuff I used to be. 99% sure he turned up just to say hi to me. I asked my brother if he visited much. He's never been here before he said. Uh huh. I feel a strong pull to him. I know. I get it. I can see the ways I could do a lot for him. Just to enjoy shit more. I know that's fantastically ironic because I am the epitome of the God of Misery and Suffering. But that's not to say I project it per se. Knowing that shit also lets me know how to do the opposite for others. But. It would be cool to do things with him. It'd be cool for both of us.

It's one of the pulls I feel to move down to where my family is. My nephew. I am getting tugged by my family. Not in a bad way. This is all me. Not people exerting influence on me.

I am very conflicted.

I caught myself enjoying Norwich, Norfolk, on the drive down South and realising I would miss it all terribly.

I am torn.

Ha. The oh so wonderfully all ducks in a row, uber rational me. Torn. Solve that problem smart arse.

A debate rages on inside me. I need to move. I should move. Time is ticking. My brother has retired. It would be *good*.

But I would miss Norwich. I would miss the city. I would miss the coast. And the walks. And the people. And my friends.

I don't know.

Chill. Calm. Be zen. Still healing. One day at a time.

If I could pull Norfolk down to my family, or vice versa, problem solved. Not going to happen.

Head. Sand. Insert. Watch another day pass. Rest.

Life eh.

Fuck life. If it was a product you bought, you'd be taking that shit back and asking for a refund.