It’s been a very long time since I’ve written here. I talk too much, I write too little about the things that matter.
I’ve been trying, intermittently, to get my health under control. The long and short of it is that it isn’t working. There’s more to it than that, but that’s all you need to know to make this part make sense.
It’s a weird time of year. Something in the stars; friends falling out of love, and finding strange and creative ways to weaponize loneliness. It makes me worry about them, worry about me, and sort of backwardsly thankful that somehow I’ve been spared the gift of rational, legitimate intimacy. Maybe it’s harder to really cope with being alone when you know there’s an alternative.
Womp Womp. Moving on.
I had lunch yesterday with a friend, B. We don’t yet know one another well; mostly, we share pop culture, broadly similar builds, and the occasional matched perspective on an issue or three. We started lunch on the subject of tv shows we watched, bouncing over to music for a little bit, landing on movies and schedules for a few minutes, before tearing into the meat of two big items. The first is that B is in love with a wonderful girl; I’m pretty sure she loves him, he’s pretty sure of the same, but for the moment, it’s not working out. And I’m always a little bit amazed when a straight male friend opens up; it’s like I have a learning disability that makes me attach and pattern my horrific WAAAAUGHedness of emotions to my sexual orientation, when it just isn’t so. I respect that B seems to have this great balance of being both open and matter-of-fact about his feelings. I can’t do either.
We talked about him and her for a bit. I like them both. They’re a good fit, and they’ve both been good friends to me in their own ways. I choose to believe this will work itself out.
We turned things over to me; what I’m doing, what’s wrong with me, how my various ailments are adding up. I don’t have a lot of positivity when I get going; frankly, I don’t have a lot to be positive about. Blah blah, self defeating prophecy, blah. Yeah, I know. I finished up my cheeseburger and said, without much irony or preparedness, “I sort of feel like I’m preparing to end my life.”
He raised an eyebrow, just for a second. We both had sort of grinned our way through this meal; this moment really didn’t allow for that. I backtracked. I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to do anything to hurt myself overtly. I know that; I wanted to make that clear. But I also feel like somehow, I’ve made up my mind that this time around, this illness, these things I’ve done to myself, are not things I’m going to walk away from. It frightens me that I’ve settled into that. I sort of rationalize that it need not be so; I also have an odd feeling of acceptance of it. I’m unsure I can change. And if I can’t, this is going to be a shorter adventure than planned.
B and I talked a while longer. It was a good chat; we surfaced back to the brisker, lighter topics in which we’d started, and we were done. When the meal was over, he texted me that he felt bad chatting about his petty crap against all this health stuff. I sort of wanted to respond with “hey, you’ve got someone out there who cares enough about you to fight with you. I’m just a fat guy who’s wallowing in it, like a whale who refuses to get unbeached.” I didn’t, though. We traded some emails that night. Eventually, I ended on: “You keep using that word; none of this stuff is petty. You love her. That makes this important. It’s okay.”
I meant that. I feel like I’m severing connections from the people I care about in order to prep for the inevitable. It’s stupid and selfish and yes, petty, but I really am tired and I feel like surrendering for a while.
After lunch, I sat in my car outside a Barnes and Noble nearby. And then I said it to myself.
“I don’t know how to tell people I’m about to leave.”
I’ve got it stuck in my mind that the problems with my body are going to end my life. And I don’t know how to communicate to people that I either don’t know how to change or am just completely past the point where that’s a possibility.
I don’t know what to do.