Postcards from My Edge

I’ve been without a relationship for quite some time now.  And the last time I had actual contact with my person, was 8 years, and twenty days ago.  Sure, i’ve seen them since, but there’s been no actual contact.  No words exchanged.  I carried it with me for so long that, it almost became more a part of me, than I was.  It consumed my everything, because they consumed my everything.

And, 4 months, and four days ago, i finally buried it all.

Why did it take so long? I don’t know that I can really say.  Maybe I just had to hold onto the anger because it reminded me that I had something real.  Something that was bigger than myself, and that I was capable of achieving that milestone everyone looks to achieve.

Love.  

Or, maybe I needed to be that girl.  You know, the one who is all bitter and angry all the time.  I mean, It was a great defense mechanism because it prevented me from falling for anyone too hard.  Sure, I had deep feelings for people that would develop, but I don’t even know if they were real.  I don’t know if any of it was.

What I mean by that, is that I would find someone, who had something that I could see in them, that allowed me to attach them to that past relationship.  As if I was trying to salvage what I wanted to have again, with who I couldn’t have it with.  Essentially these men were, for lack of better words, replacement players.  It allowed me to obsess and zone in, all the while being able to make sure I was destructive enough that I could create collateral damage and burn the world down around me when need be.

Though, I’ve always been good at burning it all down.

But, once you’ve burned it down enough times, there’s no real way to rebuild on that exact spot anymore.  There comes a point where you have to scrap all of your plans, uproot from your comfort zone, and find a new section of soul to explore and discover.  But, you have to be ready to sift through the ashes first.

Because, if you can’t learn from all those flames, how can you possibly prevent yourself from setting them off again?

Watching someone you love, no matter their age, slowly slip further and further away from you, even if you think they’re progressing, is, without a doubt, the most soul crushing experience you can have in life.

I am now spending my 3rd night in a hospital room with my grandmother.  She turned 91 on December 2nd, and up until now showed no signs of slowing down.  She was independently living on her own, driving herself where she needed to go, and without much worry.  Sure, there were signs that maybe she’d have to change her life in a year, but we had time to plan.  We had the beginnings of an actual plan worked out.

Then, on January 11, 2016, she fell.

Broken hip. I was nervous for her, but optimistic. She’d never had anything like this happen, but after all she was 91. Things tend to happen.  And, after waiting 4.5 days, they performed surgery.  See, they had to wait because she was on coumadin and they couldn’t get the numbers right.  But they knew it had to be done, so they did it.  And she came out of it without any issues.

Then, 3.5 days later, she had a stroke.

At first, I thought the worst.  I got here, to the hospital, Tuesday evening and she immediately recognized me and tried talking to me.  It wasn’t understandable but, i thought, great sign.  Wednesday morning it improved, and before I left for work, I wondered how much better it would get.  Then, this morning [Thursday] I was floored.  She had done so much and come so far, but somethings different.

She’s my grams, my heart & soul, but I can tell she’s frustrated.  Weak.  Scared.  And, it’s killing me.  I’m forcing myself to type out this fear because I’m scared too.  I’m scared of existing in a world where she doesn’t.  I can’t even look at the screen as i type that last sentence.  I just know where the keys are, and so i’ve closed my eyes.  Because i’m selfish and I want her here with me as long as I can have her.

But i don’t want her in pain.  I don’t want her scared.  I don’t want her to be afraid of life without us.  

Did you ever just know, it?  As in that moment that you can feel your life’s clock starting to tick slower, and slower, and yet you’re paralyzed and unable to stop it?  Did you ever just feel, your own mortality?

Lately, it takes all of my strength to think of anything other than that.

Years ago, and mostly as a joke, i predicted that I wouldn’t live to see 40.  Mostly because I was young, and foolish, and I didn’t really think much of it.  But, then again, I’ve always felt that there was some truth to it, and so because of this I’ve tried to live my “best life”.  You know, that life you wish that you could have, but on a budget.

And frankly, I was ok with flaming out early.  Especially once I discovered that I couldn’t have kids.  And even more so once I discovered that the only man I ever loved, loved not me.  But then, something happened.

My niece was born.

And from that day on, all I have feared is losing the ability to see her do these amazing and epic things with her life.  For her to take journeys and see the world, and to send me postcards from all of it.  For her to tell me the difference in the local customs and cuisines.  For her to live her best life.

And now, all I fear is that she’ll be left with photographs of me, and blogs that would eventually be discovered by her one day.  Possibly mapping out for her how crazy and insane her Aunt was, but still loving me for it anyways.  

And the thought of missing any of her life, or leaving my family before i’m ready is utterly numbing and terrifying.  It consumes my thoughts and makes me incapable of functioning some days.  So i drink to numb that, and to alleviate that stress.  But, even that’s not helping anymore.

And so now i’m terrified of something even more than any of this - succumbing to own demons and giving into my own weaknesses.  But, hopefully by journaling it, and blogging about it, it will help center me and keep my head in the game.

Last night, there was a homeland terror attack at Planned Parenthood.

I get that this statement may very well have both Family & Friends extremely disgusted with me, but I will not apologize for it.

I will not apologize for it because, while PP may receive a small amount of monies towards abortion services, about 97% of the monies received are so that low-income women - like me - can have access to annual tests such as pap smears, mammograms, and STD screenings.

Listen, everyone is entitled to believe what it is they believe but, when push comes to shove, you can not tell me that my medical needs are less than that of your own. I am BEYOND grateful to live in a country, such as ours, where this type of help is readily available and I wish the rest of the world was as lucky. Especially in places like Africa, where genital mutilation of the female body isn't just a given, but a sport.

I'm not asking you to support abortion - I get why you may not do so. I'm not saying I agree or disagree with you, but I support your right to agree/disagree with what you feel.

However, right now, I'm asking you to support that women, like me, have no other option for their own reproductive safety, than Planned Parenthood. I'm asking you to dismiss the 3%, and care for the 97% of us who genuinely need more than a surgical procedure. We need medicine for what issues we have, testing to help us prevent issues we could have, and counseling to help us resolve any issues we may have.

At what point in life did you finally pull yourself together?  How did you reconcile that, in spite of all the joy & carefree moments you could experience, for as long as you wanted, that you had to fall in line and just “go” with it?

When did you decide to adult?

Because, i’m struggling with this very thing right now. In theory, adulting is appealing.  Money. Things. But after that, i’m at a loss for what the good of it is.  I’m having a hard time accepting that my happiness has to be placed on a back-burner, simply because society tells me that I need to be more this, than that.

I grew up very early, and I have experienced more in my life than some, and maybe not as much as others.  But it has made me who I am.  It has shaped how I have decided to be - which is happy.  That’s all any of us wants, right?

So why is it wrong if I choose to do that by working odd jobs, going off on tangents in life, or even by falling madly in lust with multiple and various people?  By all accounts I should be dead.  Probably a time or two by my own hands, several from happenstance of not being in the wrong place at the right time, and once from the fiercest evil this world has ever seen.

But yet, here I am.  In one piece (relatively speaking), and all I want to do is remain as young as I can, for as long as I can.  Yet, i continue to dip my toe in the pool of adulthood, in an attempt to do what tho?

The mere thought of adulting sends me into a fit of terror.  Because if I adult than, that means I am giving up.  That I am giving in.  And, in a way, tells me that I’m as old as my age on paper says.  And that just means i’m just that much closer to that number getting higher, and, ultimately, it ending.

I. Will. End.

I'm tired. I'm tired of how everyone in this world is so angry. Because their anger, in my opinion, isn't directed at the right people and at the right places. We, as individuals, have the ability to enact more change than a governing body, or an army of forces.

With all that happened last Friday, and with all that is going to happen in the next several weeks (we all know it's far from over), all I keep thinking about is my niece. What are we all doing to this world by inciting others with our hatred? What are we doing by telling people, by telling complete factions of the world's population, that they don't belong here because of their religion, or because of where they're coming from in the world?

I wish, for a moment, you could put yourself in their place. What if, you were the refugee? What if America was the country being taken over by radical Christians exacting their will, as they see fit, and ripped apart, and we had to escape? And all we could do was rely on the other people from all over the world? What if, we needed people to trust us when getting there that, by and large, none of those crazy chirstians were going to be a part of our group?

My heart and soul are breaking right now because, where this world is headed is exactly what I've always feared. We have allowed our selfish, and self-righteous views blind us from the things that we were all taught as children, in every religion, and from ever descent person around us - To love your fellow man, and to help them when we can.

Sure, are their arguments to be made that we should help our own first? Sure, I guess you could make those arguments. It infuriates me that there are Veterans and Children that are homeless, and we're about to house & take care of refugees. But guys - that's on us. That's on us for not looking at those glaring problems in our country sooner. And while we can share alllll the meme's we want to about that fact, it doesn't change those facts until WE THE PEOPLE do.

So please, i'm begging you, from the bottom of the little pieces of heart & soul that I have left, choose Love. Choose to love those in this world that you do not know, and those in this world that we do not understand. Because, if we choose to love them, they in turn will learn love over hate. They will learn to spread love, over fear.

It’s a question I ask myself every day.  Especially after days like today where my Mania is in high demand, and my deep depression is swirling around me, like its a shark and i’m a bloody carcass in the ocean.

When I was about 8 years old, I decided I wanted to work in Television.  But i never had a desire to work in front of the camera.  My desire was, to make TV shows.  To Produce them and to be the person responsible for whether or not something went well, or something went bad.  I never really knew what I wanted to produce, but I knew i wanted it to make people laugh.

Then, I discovered David Letterman.

I mean, I had spent several years understanding the genius that was Johnny Carson, but Letterman - Letterman was this oddball, not just right but actually perfect talk show host.  He didn't kiss the guests asses **coughcoughJimmyFalloncoughcough**, nor did he have a voice and laugh that was like nails on a chalkboard **coughcoughJayLenocoughcough**.  What he had was an inventive and creative spirit unlike I had ever seen.  He was able to seamlessly weave in skits, and bits into what was supposed to be something more structured.  He broke down walls and rewrote the way late night television was viewed.

Without Letterman there is no Conan.  There is no Stewart. There is no Kimmel.  There is no Ferguson.  There is no Corden. Without Letterman, there is not generations of inspired weirdos who march to the beat of their own drums and do things there way.  There's not an undefinable mark in what is considered the Late Night talk show.

Everyone who watched the Tonight show with Leno, has seamlessly transitioned into being lemmings of Fallon.  Because there is no void.  There is nothing to miss.  When Carson left, some putz filled his spot and, until Hugh Grant agreed to talk about being caught with a whore on sunset boulevard with him - his show and his ratings were absolute shit.  And let's face it, his show was always absolute shit.  And now, there's another putz in charge.  Don't get me wrong, I think Fallon was great at 12:35 but the likes of Jack Parr and Johnny Carson, he is not.

But I digress.  

Basically, what I'm trying to say in a very convoluted and lengthy way is that tonight, Television is losing an icon.  Tonight, a talent of unspeakable proportions is choosing to step away from it all, and retire from what he's been doing for the last 35 years.  Tonight a pioneer in comedy and entertainment, an influence on so many, is going away and he's never coming back to TV.  There will be no more Top 10 lists.  There will be no more Biff at the Super Bowl, or any bits with Rupert.  Tonight, the 90 minutes of television that used to alleviate my brain from all the noise that it would make and thus allow me to sleep, is finished.  And as sad or pathetic as it may be to some of you, it's taking all of my energy to not break down and cry about it.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; I’m extremely bad at being a girl.

It’s not because i’m not big into fashion, or horrible TV shows.  It’s not because makeup to me should be as minimal as possible, used solely to disguise the fact that I am, again, hungover.  No, it’s because i’m completely, 100%, absolutely the world’s WORST dater.

Here’s what happens when I like a boy: - I freak out - I text him far too much because I feel like if I don’t, how will he know that i’m interested - I then get drunk and say completely obnoxious and utterly absurd things - I then apologize and explain that i’m just a sad, broken little girl who doesn’t grasp how to like someone - I then repeat steps 2 and 3 - I then wonder why it is he won’t return my messages or calls - I then swear off dating and all dating related things

I never really understood envying someone else's life, until I understood that life ends.  That this journey we're all on, eventually ends.

And I have truly never understood how someone could envy my life, until I envied someone else's.

See, I live my life with reckless abandon.  A comforting thought to those who have built, and chosen to live, inside a structure.  Me? I have no structure.  I have no core or any legitimate floor plan on which to exist.  I mold my life to my dreams, and sometimes - but not often - I mold my dreams to reality.  I exist in a place where I wake up each day and ask, for the most part, "What if today is it? What will I do".

I have watched far too many go far too young, and I have watched far too many suffer for far too long.  I have seen the way losing a loved one can rip a person and a family apart.  I have witnessed how a tragedy can be the one defining thing that someone identifies with, and I have witnessed it turn people from warm & loving into cold and distant.

I have also experienced and internalized what loss means for myself.  I'm not one for being emotional about it in public, and I think wakes & funerals only exist to make the living feel better.  To comfort us because we can't find comfort in knowing that someone was breathing one moment, and not the next.

Death is never easy.  Then again, most of life isn't.  

I have spent the better part of the last 13+ years existing in a space that many do not - living in the moment.  I have long prepared myself logically, but never emotionally, for the simple fact that all of us, and all of this will some day end.  Its a jarring and cold feeling, but one that aids and assists me in living my life the way I do.  Almost in excess at points.  

Because there may very well be the possibility that tomorrow isn't here for me, and that this may be the very last thing you ever read from me.  Then again, maybe I get lucky and awake.  Either way, i'm prepared for that moment because I know that I will have left it all on the table.