“What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?”
― George Eliot, Middlemarch
The blank page has changed. It somehow does not look the same. Before it was a canvas and my thoughts would randomly splat on the page to miraculously form some idea, story line, deduction, or other word art. Yes, it was a canvas. Now it has somehow become very loud, screaming at me, "THE DREAM, YOUR DREAM IS DEAD!" Writing is an impossibility. Communication is beyond your dead brain cells. Kayleen - 0 Satan - 2
I went for prayer the other day and I was honest. I have no confidence. I don't want to pray for people. I am sure I will screw it up. My brain is not the same and I am not familiar with this new and not improved brain, so communication is an impossibility. Parts of my vocabulary are gone, completely gone, do not exist anymore. I am too young to feel this way. So, I stood in the middle of three trusted friends and admitted that I am nothing and I have no confidence in who I am. How do you have confidence in dead brain cells? Their response, "You are right where you need to be". I hated that response until they continued, "when you are nothing and you know it, you allow Him to be everything". He has to be. He has to fill in for my dead brain cells and my live ones for that matter, because the dead ones have some how made me see the live ones have shortcomings of their own. If God does not write for me, then there will be no writing. I can't and don't want to write without Him.
One of my closest friends in this last year is one who faced his own death and won. In so many ways he is the only one who understands me at all. Somehow, people who focus on this immature, me, me, me, me, me trivial crap are more annoying than ever. The person who chooses to put covering up their own crime before a child's welfare make me ... well, they make me ... Ugh. I have realized that labeling my feelings is not one of my strong points. When you stuff them for so long you forget their names. It's a new thing I am learning - Identify the feeling. There are more than happy and angry. Who knew? My thought process is often like driving in a cluster of round-a-bouts. They put them too close together and I can drive for hundreds of miles in a half mile radius.
What I started to say many words ago is that the trivial crap that immature, selfish people get stuck in that is so irritating has taken over my world. In our conversation about Dr. appointments, memory and accepting the changes in our minds and bodies since our illnesses, we realized trivial, what was once nothing to us, stuff has stolen our dreams. My blank canvas has turned into a mirror and in it all I see is dead brain cells. Write a book? I don't see it happening, ever.
My friends dream was about to happen in a year. Money is not an issue. His girlfriend will retire and they planned on travelling. Today he mentioned Italy. They went a couple years ago. "How do I enjoy Italy, when I can't taste food?" He went on to talk about how impossible it is to fly. His saliva glands were destroyed during his chemo, so he drinks water constantly, and that leads to bathroom visits, lots of bathroom visits. How do you fly with this issue? I need water, I need more water, 'scuse me, 'scuse me, can I get out, I HAVE TO PEE!! "It's a 5 hour flight, Kayleen and that is not counting getting to New York. I went to a movie last night and had to pee 5 times. FIVE TIMES!!"
These trivial things have affected our relationships with others, because when you mention these things, we will call them N.U.T.S (Not Understood Trivial Stuff. - people want to solve the problem or claim it for themselves. Oh yeah I get up several times during a movie too. FIVE? There is a big difference between twice and five times. But you look good. You dressed yourself, you drive, you talk right, you look fine to me. Get over the stroke, the cancer, etc., you're fine now.
I have always been a multi tasker. Actually I could have been an Olympian Multi-tasker. My hands could be doing completely different tasks and they each used a different part of my brain. There was very little reason for both sides of my brain to communicate with each other. Now, there are people who have had strokes and they drag one side of their body around, scary movie, left leg, drag, we all know the guy, well, I drag the right side of my brain. It amazingly sounds a lot like the leg drag, but I am the only one who can hear it. It's okay to laugh. Laughing and crying are healing. I can no longer retain what I read, so I have no idea if this flows or just moves amongst the round-a-bout cluster. There are some feelings, still without labels that go with them, but we will get to that in the future. I wrote today to beat the dead dream and my friend is looking into a private jet to fly him to Italy. Trivial crap.
The last refuge of intolerance is in not tolerating the intolerant ...
George Eliot
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