Apparently, when signing up for this lifetime, I raised my hand for the full-meal-deal. Sometimes stuff can keep happening that pretty much will take your breath away; the past two and a half years have been a lot like that for me. As much as I remind myself to take care of myself, to walk, to write, to breathe, and to not panic: I still can wind up exhausted, depressed, and conflicted about my life, my direction, and my decisions.

That’s the negative emotional space I’m in this evening, anyway; I’m rather in a funk as I compose this little note. I suppose it’s not been helpful that for five straight nights I was kept awake by the inhabitants of this neighborhood with their absurdly-loud and persistent fireworks. Simply: I’m beyond exhausted. I went for a walk this afternoon but, literally, had a difficult time putting one foot in front of the other.

And, I’m anxious. There’s too much to do. Even without an office to go to this month, my to-do list is ridiculously long and involved.

I’m scheduled to move from Portland to Roseburg next week. This will be my second major move in two years, both times the result of job losses. At the moment, my current landlords are expecting their house back; the movers are scheduled, confirmed and re-confirmed; and the new apartment complex down south awaits my money and my occupancy.

I’ve been living in a maze of cardboard boxes since the beginning of June. I knew I was going to move, even before I knew where I was going, so I got started in on the packing early. More or less, I have lived in a campsite for more than a month.

After reading an email note from my mom yesterday, indicating that my dad had had a good day, I was feeling rather relieved. He is seriously ailing, and now resides in a nursing home. I had learned earlier that he was dealing with a case of pancreatitis, and ever since then his condition has been up and down, up and down. The serious nature of his situation led, after discharge from the hospital, to residence in a “convalescent center” (i.e., a nursing home).

So, a report of a good day was a good thing to hear. However, my sister called me this afternoon to say that that day may have been good, but things, overall, are not. He keeps slipping and slipping, and today, for the first time ever, apparently, asked mom if she would be OK if he weren’t around. From what I can tell (from this distance and frequency of contact), my 92-year-old dad has pretty much been in denial about the possibility of his own death until just recently.

He is not eating, has been losing weight for some time, and we really don’t know how much time he has left. The guess is: not much.

For me: I am overwhelmed with feelings of loss: of jobs; of friends; of computer hard drives; of cities, places and homes; of things familiar; of a significant other; of my own health; of sleep; of control; and, now, likely, of a parent.

I feel a weight pressing down on me, and I wish it would lighten up a tad. The probability that that will happen anytime soon, seems remote.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Love of mine some day you will die
But I’ll be close behind
I’ll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no’s on their vacancy signs

If there’s no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark…

(“I Will Follow You Into The Dark” – Death Cab for Cutie)