Jun 9

 Yesterday was pretty horrific.

Woke up feeling like shit, noodled with work for an hour before being so ill, I just couldn't do it anymore.

Went back to bed.

Got back up at midday, felt pretty shit still, limped through the afternoon working, but by 5pm I was very ill again.

Back to bed.

I stayed there til around 9pm. Got up. Felt like shit. Jesus christ.

Slowly, oh so slowly thawed out until by around midnight I didn't feel too bad.

Now this was ill in a way I haven't been in a while. More of last years pattern of being ill. Sleep pulls me down to a very deep level, coming out of it feels like being dragged backwards through suffocating cotton into an awake state where everything is shit, and it seems like you just did the opposite of sleep, and are more exhausted than ever.

Hammering heart, spikes of pain, dizzy, weak, even the slightest effort exhausts, screeching tinnitus. And bouts of utter cold. Cannot warm up. Freezing.

Mmmm.

Ok then.

Today I feel half better. Nothing like as ill as yesterday. But I feel. Tired and beaten up. Fragile.

Out the window go all the plans.

In comes the sitting on ass and just trying to rest. And get a handle on feeling better. That slippery state I have to fight hard to find these days.

I had lots of fever dreams in all my sleeping. Dreamt of my parents in random scenarios. Being dicks. In their characteristic way. Very old school these days. Probably more like their behaviour from 30 or 40 years ago. Overall it left me with a feeling of having to fight to exist, putting up with passive aggressive shit, outright aggressive shit. And I felt like punching my dad.

Uh huh.

Over the last few months, the more I look at my parents behaviour at a higher level, look at who they are, but not from the too close perspective of family. I can see the personalities they exhibit if I were to encounter them at random in the world. My dad, for all his at times social bon homie, is awkward. A nerd. Albeit an old school practical nerd in an age of no computers and few opportunities for an east end boy. He does not work well with others, to put it mildly, prefers his own space, is into the esoteric, thinks in his own way. Beyond that has a massive chip on his shoulder about anyone "educated", despite the delicious irony of firmly believing everyone should have the best education, carries huge resentment about many things in life and, I think, when you get down to it, being "different" from his siblings. Does Not Compute shit about love or kinship or empathy. He is I think somewhere subtly on the autistic spectrum. Bottles stuff up. Secretive. Coping mechanism is almost singularly violence.

My mom is a hard bitten, no fucks given, opportunity taker with flexible morals and social chameleon skills. Ruthless. Will sacrifice any and all to get where she needs to be. Cunning and careful when required, a tendency to bottle stuff up. Secretive. Coping mechanism is psychological violence. I think she has some borderline personality traits - but I don't think it's that simple and is a slightly different animal. Her mom had the same kind of negative traits but in an even worse way. Unlike borderline it seems to be.. selective.

That is who, if I met them today, and they were in their prime, I would scope them out as. Age and illness changes people. My mom in particular has changed a lot from that. But. Still. Hide in the closet when she doesn't think you're looking, and you will see the monster come out - this is the lesson the care home has taught. The staff have tales to tell.

Eh. These are not my kind of people. Perhaps my dad. If you had caught him young enough to turn that ship away from violence, be more creative, a bit more empathic - a struggle if hes got some social connecting problems. The thing I don't know is whether that empathy hole is learned or intinsic. It could be either.

My mom is not my kind of person. At all. Ironically I have a much better relationship with her than I do my dad.

Go figure.

You can't choose your family and all that.

I have.. no.. super.. real beef with my parents. Particularly my mom. By and large. And my dad. Meh. Mehhh. I am ok with. I still disagree... disagree.. ha.. makes it sound like an academic argument about relative weights of something instead of a bullshit long case of abuse .. with many of his actions. As much as you can possibly disagree with something. Extreme disagree. Heh.

But I am hard pressed to find their good qualities. They can both be loyal to their family. For sure. They can also both round on their family and each other when the mood takes them. So. Not a given. My mom in her very ill later years is more of a love bug.. than anything. Albeit. Again. Ask my sister about that. She can get the very shitty other end of that stick too. For no reason. Just because. See borderline personality issues.

My dad.. will do stuff for you at random. For a short while. Before he descends to anger. So. Somewhere in there is an ability to be helpful. Not a great one. Certainly not a selfless one. Random. Often not well thought out. Or appropriate. And liable to disappear. Sometimes catastrophically so. But. The willing is there. Sometimes. Or used to be.

At this point, all of this is academic. Just mulling over information, analysing it, filing it. Understanding your past. Understanding shit is important if you want to figure stuff out now, or in the future. But as said before. Any kind of learning, smarts, whatever, does not bring happiness. Answers. Sure. Happiness. Probably not. There can however, in places, for sometimes, be something of a contentment on gaining of understanding. Not always. But sometimes. And it gives you the best shot of not repeating the same mistakes. Of not ultimately for me, hurting others. Learn. To do better.

A journey. Make mistakes. Learn. Hopefully. Move on. Treat others with kindness and respect and empathy. Hold their hand where they want it. Hug them when they need it. All in it together.

At least. That's my world.

I disagree entirely with other more capitalistic selfish world views.