I'm not terribly happy of late. It could well be that as the seasons change, I'm sinking into some form of seasonal depression. It's one of the reasons why there's been such a gap between blog posts, as I haven't been of a mood to write much. It's not for a lack of things to report. I mean, I got fitted for the brace and my replacement cast was covered with paw prints. It was very cute and amused Becky to no end. This was followed by the adventure of thinking something had gotten into my cast, and had to have it removed to discover nothing was there. (The replacement cast is orange.) The stitches came out of my residual toe and it appears to be healing nicely. The cold I reported a week ago finally seems to be fading. I have things to say.
But I often find myself sitting at my computer, watching a BBC show called "QI" for hours on end, and no desire to do much of anything else. Given any time alone to think, I don't have many pleasant thoughts. Nothing that suits my typical symptoms of depression, mind you. I'm not dwelling on suicide, as is my wont. No, I'm on my meds, and they're working.
Instead, I find myself thinking about such things as the level of stupidity Stu has demonstrated. Like a child unable to defend himself, he went running to our father with the essential desire to whine. "Daddy, Rob's being mean! And you should see what he said about you!" My father would never have found my blog had Stu not directed him on where to go. Thus, a rift was created, and I was left with the inability to report the goings-on with my toe. And it was Stu's doing. This blog was for my friends, and that was it. Stu found it, didn't like what he read, and once again took the route of an infant and had a temper tantrum. In the process, he ruined a father/son relationship, all because he couldn't be a grown up about it. In the greatest of family traditions, Stu has proven without doubt that he is his mother's son.
Please, G-d, let me be like none of them...EVER!
Then there's been this increasing feeling of being a disappointment to Becky. There was so much that was supposed to happen once I'd moved in. I was going to do my best to keep house while she was off at school and/or working. There was also supposed to be a great deal of time playing games, watching movies, or...ummm...more adult activities.
But what happened instead? I walked in the door and started coming apart.
Becky often says that it's not my fault that I'm disabled...that I come down with one illness or another. The thing is, she's wrong. These things ARE my fault. I'm the one who screwed around with my diabetes to the point that the complications were assured to affect me. I dug this gloriously destructive hole for myself to lie in, and now I am suffering the consequences. As a kind of added bonus, Becky suffers vicariously with me.
She could, and should, do better.
Chances are excellent that she'll read that statement later and reprimand me for it. She seems to think I'm a one-of-a-kind item. But my argument is as follows: in order to demonstrate that someone is somewhat unique among the masses, they are told that they are "one in a million." Assuming that's true of myself, we now skip to the fact that there are approximately 7 billion people on the planet. Mathematically, that translates to the idea that there are 7,000 people just like me. Just as kind. Just as caring. Just as funny. Just as cynical. Just as needy. A perfect combination that seems to have attracted my beloved...and there are 7,000 of them out there...and one of them has to be younger and healthier than I.
My life isn't where I wanted it to be when I envisioned it decades ago. Then again, if it had worked itself out as I dreamt, I wouldn't be with my beloved Becky. So while I have my complaints, I also have plenty for which to be thankful.
Be well, and DFTBA!