Oct 10

 My good periods are getting shorter. Wackier with their arrival and departure. A malaise on top of the malaise has crept up on me where I just feel off in the periods that I sometimes used to feel better. Like an oasis in the desert that is slowly drying up, where there was once water, there is now mud, and where there was mud, there is now baked dead clay. It's creeping up on me. Slowly.

Perhaps it's just a downward slope at the moment.

There is I think a human truism in the fact that the more you like a thing, the harder it is to see it go, and the more you dislike a thing, the easier it is to wave goodbye and skip away from it. It's certainly very true for me, and I see it in others as well, so, uncontroversial statement, I think this fairly obvious thing is common. And it only increases in intensity when like is love, and dislike is hate.

So far. So obvious.

The more complex bit is when it's not a simple clear cut one or the other. When there are multiple things, likes, dislikes, love, hate, all rolled into one tangled ball. And because life is life, more often than not, things are not simple, they are indeed this complicated mess of opposing pulls.

Mixed emotions.

To love something. And hate it. To not want to let it go. To be glad to be rid of it. At the same time.

It has occurred to me in the past that some of the things I feel strongly, loss related, are especially down to the fact that I love them so much. There is no mixed emotion there. Just. Unipolar. One way. And it makes the loss awful. Because I am not zen with the whole, loss is part of the fabric of things. Because I can't accept it because it just is. Because some parts of me are starved of positive love. Affection. Niceness. And because I only feel the positive for such things, the love, no downsides. It's something that overall hits me hard.

There was. When Ares was dwindling. A fucked up part of me that realised how much that was going to hurt. And that to try and stem that awfulness. I should try to remember some of the things that were a pain in the ass about him. I would not miss having to always be careful around him with other dogs. I would not miss the stress he would sometimes put me through. But really. It was a short list. A list without real heart. And in the end. It is trivial. It gets washed away in a torrent of things I would miss about him. I knew it. But I was also aware that I care for him so much. We were so tightly bound, that it would be terrible to lose him. He was my shadow for so many years. Utterly loyal and fearless. Always sleeping at my back, a comforting warm presence. No judgement. No ill will. No negativity. Just happy to see you. Happy to be with you. And happy with the world.

It is for me, impossible not to have that level of ... connection in my life... and not have it devastate me when I lose it.

It is something of a pattern with me.

I can bond oh so tightly.

And I am destroyed when I lose it.

Over the years I have lost bits of me. Until I now feel like a hollow ghost in many respects. The me that was me died sometime ago. A death by a hundred losses. Bits of my happier self shattered on the path behind me.

When my last proper relationship ended. I stated matter of fact that losing her would be losing a part of myself. I would survive, and continue. But. Part of me will have died.

Dramatic. Unfair emotionally perhaps. Clingy. But it was not stated as some wrong headed attempt to prevent the relationship ending. Or some parting bit of spite. There was no spite. There was no ill will. Nor delusion about outcomes. It was just a matter of fact. This. Is how it will be. That is how much you meant to me.

Perhaps over the years you might think those wounds heal. Things move on. It's ok.

But for me.

That statement is as true today as it was then.

Each one of those losses cuts something out of me and leaves it behind. And not for the better.

If I were a better person, more hardy, more adult perhaps, then I would heal and grow and be happy maybe.

But I don't. I carry it with me. Emotional baggage. An emotional scar. I think to be honest. That is true of all of us. Even those that heal and grow and skip into the future. We all have that shit that accumulates. The weariness of the world. The sadness of life. It's my personal belief - perhaps wrong - that you have to be somewhat demented not to be like that. The perpetual happy go lucky person is, in my estimation, utterly nuts. Crazy. That it works is undeniable. Whether it's sane or not. I don't think it is. For me, it takes enormous amounts of wishful thinking, ignoring the obvious, and living in a delusional state.

Perhaps thats the way to be.

Alas. I can't be like that. So I'm stuck. Being factual. And observant. And logical. And sad.

Today has had some good moments where I've felt ok. And some bad ones where I've felt awful - the shadow of death literally creeping over me.

It was in one of those moments, dozing, failing to sleep, feeling like shit, that I remembered back to Ares. I remembered vividly howling the house down whilst in the show. A scream and a sobbing for the sudden impact of his loss earlier that day. I howled for I don't know how long. Sobbing. Until Hazel woke up and got me out of the shower and sat me down.

I can remember that raw horrible grief. One of those lovely worst moments of my life things. There are many of them that touch the sides of reality.

And lying in bed, my mind suddenly back to that point, I could feel the sadness like a lump in my stomach. Emotions roiling. Prickling eyes.

And then I calmed. Feeling shit. Not even being able to sleep because I felt so ill.

Because that shadow of feeling so ill. Of possibly being on a short lifespan suddenly was ok.

A relief. In fact.

It was going to be ok. Because all that emotional pain, and the physical ills was all going to stop. Be over. Done. And that was a relief. So. It was ok. Be calm. The story has an end. It is not forever.

And I realised.

You find it hard to say goodbye to things you love.

And easy to let go of things you hate.

I was at peace with letting go. Content. Relieved.

And what did that say about the sum of my life. All those experiences good and bad condensed.

I do not love it. I do not like it. I dislike it. Intensely. Do I hate it ? I probably do.

And thus.

It is easy to let it go.

But like many things. It's a complex ball of things. And the animal in me always wants one more breath. Even though the human in me is very tired and very sad.

Ares in his final period was it has to be said hard to endure. You want him to live. And enjoy things. But also you can see he struggled more. Suffered more. There is no correct answer as to when you should let something go, or when to keep on. Any answer you give will be wrapped in guilt. I still cannot shrug off the feeling that I let Ares down. Even though I know there was nothing I could do. And I gave him a happy, loving, easy life. As much as anyone could ever want. But I despise death. And angry and frustrated that I cannot defeat it. That I cannot do better. And solve it. And save my lovely Ares. And that good things should come to good people. And vice versa. I am a small insignificant dot railing at the cruelty of the universe.

That same thinking goes for me.

At what point is it cruel to keep going. At what point is it sane to keep on.

We favour always keeping on at the moment. Even though it's a hotly debated topic. A topic that many know the answer of always keeping on means that in the end you are cruel, just for the sake of one more breath, and that it is not worth the suffering. But despite that. Life is the be all and end all for us. Always stretched as long as possible. For other life forms other than us. We are more pragmatic. Brutal. Understanding. Take your pick.

I sometimes fear getting stuck in an even worse place than I am now, and being kept alive.

I am aware that this scenario is a close parallel to what my mom went through. Her own immune system eating her alive. She always fought. Even though she was tired. She started to give up towards the end. Show signs of just letting her go. Lived too long she said. Don't resuscitate. But even then. She would fight. I don't know how she did it. I am not entirely sure why she did it. Some of it I think was because she was so angry at her own mom for not fighting and just giving up and dying. I think at that point she vowed never to do that herself.

Anyway.

A long sad ramble on the nature of loss. Of Death. Of when to let go.

There are no answers. No right or wrong. The universe will not mark your homework.

Just experiences. Emotions. All you can do is struggle your way through them the best you can at the time you encounter them.

There is also another awful truism to all of that.

There is no going back. No matter what you do, the past is the past, and time does not repeat. Even though at times, you can fool yourself that it might. Or it looks like it does. There is no going back. Every day that peels by is gone forever.

Things change. Always. Everything. Every person. Every event. It changes. Even in the impossible scenario that you yourself did not change, everything and everyone around you still would. You cannot recapture lightning. You cannot undo loss. Or death. Or the things you experienced yesterday. It is gone. There is only now.

I think, for those not weighed down by the increasing amount of baggage behind them. Now and the future can look positive. Interesting things to be done. Loves to be found. Wonderful living things to bond with and experience life with.

But at some point the scales tip. The losses are more than the gains. Each passing year the scales tip further.

Perhaps it's just a matter of outlook. Or how delusional you are.

But for me personally. I am tired. And just waiting. For time to pass. Until the story ends.