Too Tired to Blog… yet doing it anyway.
The other day I made some infinitesimal progress in the agonisingly slow process of sorting out the mess my father left behind when he died. It should have been a happy pause and cause for a minor celebration of a tiny victory, but all I could see was the pile of mess still waiting to be sorted out stretching out ahead of me for the rest of the year. The only thing keeping me going at the moment is grim determination to see this through.
I am very tired. It occurred to me like a revelation which wasn’t a revelation at all. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, and I am too tired to know how to re-energise myself. I just have to keep going. Blogging is a part of the coping mechanism I have set in place to keep me going, but… I am too tired to do it, yet I’m doing it anyway.
When I checked out what the Daily Prompt was for yesterday – You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you? – I just thought that with the mood I’m in at the moment I’d probably slap the pushy palm reader and tell her to read that. I wouldn’t really do that, I’m too fucking polite for such spontaneous realness and I’m good at predicting the future too. Had I slapped the boundary invading pain in the ass, I’d have been arrested for aggravated assault because the palm reader’s spirituality would have flown out the window, if you could open airplane windows, the second that my slap of awareness hit her face. She would not have accepted partial responsibility in the matter, as in don’t force yourself on others and invade their space, try using some of that empathic ability to know when to bother someone and when not to bother someone. The flight might have been diverted, angering all the other passengers who had places to get to at a certain time and once again in my life I would have become a persona non grata because I expressed what I was really feeling rather than hide it behind an accepting shit when I don’t want to facade.
Funnily enough I wrote a post a few days ago about some of my experiences with neighbours on planes – Fasten Your Seatbelts. It’s strange how many synchronicities there are to be found in the day to day.
Another request of that particular prompt was – show us HANDS. You want hands? How about invisible ones?
My neck hurts, as though a strong hand is gripping it very tightly from behind. It’s become chronic. Nothing I do makes it better. And I’m stooping a lot as though carrying the weight of the world like Atlas, yet I feel more like Sisyphus.
That invisible hand gripping the back of my neck reminds me of something, an event which happened in my past. In a moment of exuberant courage I had trespassed into territory I normally would not have entered, and someone grabbed the back of my neck and led me out of the zone I had dared to step into. I got the message. Learn to respect boundaries.
I’m quite good at respecting other people’s boundaries, it just bothers me a little that those who are most sensitive to their boundaries being breached tend to be the ones most likely to trespass over the boundaries of others, then they get upset, hurt, and other emotions designed to make you feel guilty for respecting yourself and your space when you object to their behaviour.
That has been happening quite a bit this year. People telling me what I am and am not allowed to do and feel where they are concerned, yet they don’t seem to think that their rules apply to them too. My father’s companion told me she didn’t want to hear about my feelings about my father or my mother, yet all she wants is to offload her rage against my mother and her grief about my father’s death onto me. I’m supposed to shut up and put up with it. I’ve written about this before – The Moral High Ground is a Slippery Slope.
I gave up trying to communicate with her. She’s been being so obstructive in this whole process, being ‘helpful’ in as unhelpful a way as possible. And I know nothing I say will get through to her, she doesn’t want to know that there are more sides than the one she has decided is the real and only one.
I’m too tired for this… and it only just dawned on me how tired I am. Since I first learned of my father’s death I’ve been bombarded by the needs of others. I haven’t even had time to mourn. How can I mourn when there is stuff that needs to be sorted out. It’s just not going to happen this year. I am very angry at my father, always have been… with due cause. But still, even for those who don’t like the deceased, if that person had an impact on your life, mourning still has its place in your life… but when exactly are you supposed to find time to do it?
Better go now… if you like astrology, there’s a very good article – North Node & Saturn in Scorpio: Why things seem dark – which I read last night, which brought some clarity and relief of sorts, and which hits the nail on the head for me about everything right now. I was going to write about my thoughts on it, transiting Saturn is making its presence felt very ominously in my chart, I quite enjoyed it at first… maybe tomorrow when yet again I try to make it through another day of this slow and inexorable year with help from that invisible hand which is pushing me to the way out of this this particular territory into which I trespassed.