the drafts are endless, but it’s the drunk one I put up
Man I am telling you one of these days I am going to have to organized this more beyond the waxings and bitchings of Miss D. I have so many different drafts right now–so many times I sit down here to write, and then abandon it because I go to watch what train wreck is on Dr Phil, or work annoys me and I have to get up from the desk I sit at for 8 hours a day. It can be a bit tedious and there is the factor of sunlight in this room, a giant grow light which could legitimately grow some serious crops in the corner. It helps but it doesn’t make my literal ass feel better.
Anyways, last night I was drunk and decided to post what I would normally not–there’s no reason to not celebrate more than that shit–because life is getting measurably better, save for the $18,000 ER bill soon to be doubled by that second blood blister explosion from the badly sewn stitches to start. Whatever–there’s some time to work bankruptcy in but again–these strategies I was trying to save for expected hospitalizations—BUT–maybe I will get to 58. Maybe I won’t live 8 more months. I always have these super random ages that I get fixated on for periods, and then something crazy happens or I imagine something insane and the number is replaced. Usually by a smaller number, because of course every event seems not to lengthen anything.
Anyways–as far as families are concerned–I really need to lay off the discussions on any, given my ideas have legitimately always been right–the best family is always the family you choose–because the obligations are different, and you get to choose the circles you float within–I mean, I get it–there have been some times I have felt truly accepted, some with my maternal in the very beginning and certainly always with my fathers side because they are just good people who seem genuinely interested in getting to know Don and me. The family I grew up with certainly isn’t big on reaching out. I think none of them had my 917 NYC number which I had for a decade plus–well my mom did. So–yeah. I guess I have always been good with being alone and at the end of the day–the solitude allowed the development of a human being who has become VERY resilient. Things have happened to me and in such a way that there is almost nothing that can kill me, err, save for a stroke maybe and it would clearly have to be the right one. But the dying of a broken heart I might be essentially doing but at the end of the day, the absolute shit I have had to endure, I mean jesus my whole artery system sprung leaks, SEVERAL TIMES. I went through a pregnancy and loss. I was married to an ornery gay man for a long time. I have been left and left a million times over. I had my last me too moment when I turned 33 my Jesus year, getting raped in the vestibule of my building after I got home that night. The girls, they took care of him, and he was moved within weeks–far away from me.
But as far as those who have paid their dues. Maybe in suffering, sure, but that’s not enough. There’s a whole scope of achievement I finally feel ready to embrace–just a few tiny things in my way right now. And a bunk family removed is certainly not a hindrance–we just have to keep going and make sure we make this life worth it.
Been a long time since I’ve entertained maximizing that. But I can breathe–I feel free. I have myself and Don and the Duke, and yes, in that order.
Things have a way of righting themselves when they’ve been upside down this long.
It’s true….you’ll see.
