Day 85

8AM:

Are yesterday and the worn-out feelings of today the result of it being close to the end of the week, a stress-filled one at that?  Or are they the accumulation of a couple of weeks’ worth of rust, which has not flaked off as much over the last little while because priorities have been elsewhere (brother’s mental health issues, my wife being physically worn)?  Or is it past ghosts that I can’t shake?

There is a Colin Hay song I heard many years ago.  It kind of sums up my answer to that question:

I drink good coffee every morning

Comes from a place that’s far away

And when I’m done I feel like talking

Without you here there is less to say

I don’t want you thinking I’m unhappy

What is closer to the truth

That if I lived till I was 102

I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you

I’m no longer moved to drink strong whisky

‘Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew

That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs

I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you

Your face it dances and it haunts me

Your laughter’s still ringing in my ears

I still find pieces of your presence here

Even after all these years

But I don’t want you thinking I don’t get asked to dinner

‘Cause I’m here to say that I sometimes do

Even though I may soon feel the touch of love

I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you

If I lived till I was 102

I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you

Even on the good days, cuts have left scars and scars have left scar tissue and rust.  So even once the cuts have healed and the rust has cleared off, there will be feelings that the experiences of life, the people I’ve met have left their marks: I just don’t think I’ll ever get over the blackness, there will be pieces of its presence whispering to me.  It does have an impact, but it is not the sole decider.

It doesn’t mean it controls my life or my ability to be happy and grateful and fulfilled; nor does it mean that feeling worn down or crapped on isn’t exacerbated or ameliorated by it.  I choose to act on the things I can and live with the things that I can’t change.

I know that this is a little jumbled, and probably a reflection of how mind-fucked I am right now.  Simply put, I have the truth in my world and it isn’t given to me by fresh wounds, emotional scars or old ghosts – they can be with me forever (never gotten over) and affect me always, but not control me ever.

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