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2013, cyd, new
cydniey

Dear Diary, Day Three Without Doc

Dear Diary,


Doc will be home in the wee hours of Friday night!!!!!! I do not envy him the next few days, and not just because of the funeral/wake. I’ll tell you why . . .


Even though she has disliked me and poked at me since she found out my mental health diagnosis, I find myself feeling great compassion and empathy for my mother in law right now. She has just lost her soul mate and pillar. And, living my nightmare, she is about to lose her sense of independence. Note, she hasn’t been independent for many years. Arthritis crippled her at an early age, but her mind is bright, not a hint of dementia. She has been completely dependent on Doc’s dad for decades, and doesn’t realize it. She thinks she is staying in the house. She keeps trying to get Doc to empty out the attic so she has access to all of it. The kids, Doc and his sister, are loathe to approach the subject, so they are waiting until Monday, when Mom’s brother comes down and has “the conversation” with her. That will be a bad day. Luckily the whole family will be there by then, including Doc’s older brother. There will be a lot of support and Xanax to go around.


I found out last night that Doc has been to the mountains in Soporo, Japan. I knew he had been to the major cities, and was born on Okinawa, but had no idea he had been to the Soporo mountains right before he met me. I have kind of this obsession with the area. It’s beautiful and mythical, but at the same time, has some real evil shit built underneath it. He didn’t go for the mountains, he went for the real evil shit built underneath it.


We talked for a long time last night, he was telling me his dad’s war stories from Korea. His dad was a hero, not just your average infantry man. He did great service for our country. And the stories! All independently verified and true, and so amazing. I can’t even tell you about them, more’s the pity, I could write a book on his life. Some day, maybe Doc will let me. I now know the origins of the “extended family” in Japan and Korea. Doc has such a rich upbringing, in a completely different way than I did.


I was brought up on art and culture, especially UK culture. IT was all PBS and ballets and symphonies and plays and musicals for enjoyment, and piano and violin lessons. Doc grew up in a post-military household. He is brimming with history and politics and some really interesting knowledge of weaponry and how to accurately fire it. And math. I got the liberal arts upbringing, and he got the practical upbringing, but both were immersive. And they serve us well together. We figure things out for each other using our own skill sets. We tried for a long time to get one another to think our ways, but that didn’t work, and this cooperation really is.


He’s talking about “starting over” when he gets home. I’m all for that. Some changes need to be made, and were well on their way to happening before this came around. I’m all about motivation and getting our shit together and being adults for a while until we can relax and go back to being kids. I’m glad he has had this change of life and is ready to really start his life. Being with his sister is really good for him, right now. All bad feelings are gone, and it is just brother and sister getting older. She told him, “You have a few really good years left, you have to do something with them.” I agree. We can be on top of things. We’re smart and capable and have the necessary skill sets.


 


2013, cyd, new
cydniey

Dear Diary, I'm Sad Today

Dear Diary,


I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because H never called, so I didn’t get to go to the store. His wife is at work with the car now, so he’s no longer available. Fucking great. An hour out of his life in exchange for all the beer he could drink in that time. Whatever, humans, whatever.


Chewbacca has started meowing. It’s kind of a whine, kind of a moan, but it goes up at the end like a meow, and it is a new noise for him. He started making it at feeding time, when all the cats are meowing at me, he just started joining in. And yesterday, he was stalking one of the feral cats, he crouched down in the grass, did the kitty butt wiggle for a while, and then pounced. And he just now peed, inside the house for the first time, on a box that Bagira has peed on a couple of times. My dog no longer thinks he’s a dog. Oh, he’s also started going up to the cats and whacking them across the head like they do to each other as greetings, then he nuzzles their heads. It’s getting really weird around here.


I have to eat. I have something to make, I’m just not hungry. I was at around 2 this morning, but it was too early to take my meds. I promised Lilliane I would do it soon, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to keep checking up on me.


This is just Saturday. The day for the past four years that Doc and I have spent together. He doesn’t do errands on Saturday, he just stays with me and we talk. And even when we weren’t getting along, most Saturdays, we did. For the day. And I’m really lonely right now. That’s why I wanted H to come over today, so I would have a bit of company for a while. Now I don’t even feel like seeing anyone. I would lay down on Doc’s couch and enjoy his scent on his pillow, but I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Yes, I’m drinking coffee today. But it’s okay, because my belly is disappearing.


I’m waiting for it to rain. It hasn’t yet, and I’m sure the NASCAR fans in the stands are grateful for the cloud cover and cool breezes. The rain isn’t supposed to come until 4am, but it smells like ozone right now and the clouds are the right kind, so I’m thinking . . .


I’m also wanting to chain smoke. I have enough tobacco and tubes, no problem there, but my lungs are not happy with the urges. And I don’t want to smoke pot. Which is, for a Saturday, especially a cloudy one that I want to art on, that I wouldn’t want to smoke.


Maybe I should turn off the TV and turn on my music for a while. That might cheer me up. Some Bowie, some U2, some Big Country and Kate Bush. Yeah. And back outside for another smoke before I turn the lights on for evening because even though it isn’t yet 4pm, the dusk has permeated the living room, which, to my focused eyes, is made up of a picture window and three screens. Yes, I get a weird sort of tunnel vision. My brain just randomly blocks things out. Like the scene in Mr. Robot where Elliot is in Times Square and suddenly it is empty of people. My brain does that. Takes everything out of my focus except what it wants to focus on.