"Through The Shattered Looking Glass...." July 3, 2000

"Through The Shattered Looking Glass...." July 3, 2000

Early Evening...

....and there is a great deal I would like to write about to sum up these last few weeks. Many words I would like to employ to immortalize the vast gamut of emotions and experiences I have had in such a short time. Where many are not so pleasant, I hesitate. Perhaps I am just a coward. Perhaps I am just lazy. One thing I know to be true is how tired I am.

I am tired of being tired. I am tired of being tired of being tired. I am tired of sounding like such a crybaby most of the time I write.

I am tired of putting on facades.

It is not merely a matter of physical exhaustion. A solution cannot be found in a few more hours sleep at night. It is mental and emotional exhaustion that prevents me from doing the simplest things, even if I were to possess boundless energy. Even sitting here, typing on the keyboard, was something I had to drag myself to do; it seemed like such a monumental task.

I have had to force myself through life these last few weeks. I have forced myself to get out of bed. I have forced myself to work. I have forced myself to keep trudging along in the hopes of a more positive outlook, in the perhaps vain understanding that things have to get better eventually.

Unfortunately, the only one who can make things better is me, and my optimism and zest for life have been on hiatus.

A few weeks ago, I had to stop taking my medication. More specifically, the rather potent anti-depressant Paxil. The decision was a necessary one, yet one made without much forethought. One of the more nasty side effects, that being sexual dysfunction, crept over me slowly the last few months, climaxing (excuse the pun) earlier in June. Not only had I lost all desire in sex, but was having a difficult time even getting through it. It was forced, it was not pleasurable.

So, I stopped cold turkey taking the meds. In the dawn of my thirties, I was not willing to sacrifice my sexuality for mental wellness, especially given the desire to father a child in the near future. Since giving up the meds, while things are much, much improved in the performance department, other aspects of my mental and emotional well being have taken a heavy blow. It was not a good idea to not wean myself off, I believe in retrospect. I suffered headaches, nasuea, body tremors, insomnia. While those have petered out, I am left with a big emotional black hole that is ever expanding. I have been able to deceive my loved ones up to now, but I am not sure how much longer I will be able to hold out. I am not sure what the solution will be, for I have tried other medications in the past that did not work as well as Paxil. I have been giving St. John's Wort a try, but given the nature of my depression, am rather pessemistic that an herbal remedy will be of any use,

I know that I am in denial. I know that I have to do something. I have wished for a long time now that I was not the recipient of this genetic legacy. I hate feeling like a basket case so much of the time. I hate not feeling normal. I hate being a constant burden to those that care about me, and so seldom being able to give anything back to them beyond the occasional phone call or coffee get together.

Unfortunately, The Goddess has not helped matters much. She is in her own funk, too, and has less will to push through the day than I do. The funny thing is, she is still taking her meds.

Before she moved back home, myself and others worked long and hard, and at some expense, to make a home for her, for us, to create a sanctuary she could feel was her own little palace. A lot of paint was spread, a lot of labour was performed.

Little has been done by way of maintenance, though. Don't get me wrong, it is not like I feel it is solely her responsibility. Nevertheless, she said herself when she moved home that until she became employed, she wanted to take on most of the household maintenance. She said, through tears over the home we created, that she would not let things go.

Well, the bathroom never gets cleaned unless I do it. Dishes pile on the counter for days and never get done. She'll wash some for maybe five minutes, take a twenty minute smoke break, and then wash some more. They never just get done and over with; they are always there, just rotating. Her garden is still not finished, and now it is too late to plant anything more. Half of the sod I turned lay there, just a big pile of dirt. I have to vacuum every day, or almost every day, for she "has issues" with vacuuming, and with four pets, it has to be done all the time. The bed never gets made. In reference to laundry, see dish washing.

And today, she got up at eleven, watched television until two, and then slept again until seven. Her excuse was that it was a holiday. Housework aside, she made it clear that sleeping the day away was of greater priority than spending some time with me on my day off, too.

Our sanctuary is now officially a dump, and I loathe living here, especially after seeing what it can be. It exacerbates my depression. Most of all, it makes me very, very sad a great deal of the time. Since I see clients every day, I just do not think it fair that I do the majority of the housework. Call me chauvinistic if you want. I know otherwise. If she was working, too, then things would be entirely different. I have tried talking to her about this before, and she becomes defensive, angry, sulky, cries, says things she regrets, and then we do not speak for a day or two. When we are friends again, nothing has changed.

Several other little projects lay scattered, hither and yon, only half completed, or even just started. They lay abandoned, collecting dust, being in the way.

I need a happy place. I need a peaceful, semi-organized, fairly clean environment. I cannot do all the work myself. I should not have to get her out of bed every morning, especially on those that she has her own engagements. I should not have to make suggestions as to what could be done during the day. With a bus stop right beside the house, I should not be expected to take her everywhere she wants/needs to go. I should not have to prod her to look for a job. I should not have to set her bedtimes. I should not be expected to not let her nap too long. I should not have to tell her to stop chain smoking, given that she has chronic bronchitis. I am her husband, not parent.

Just after I stopped the meds, it was a couple weeks ago now, I received a phone message. It was from a collection agency, a mister so-and-so quoting file such-and-such. Having been divorced, self employed, and doing contract work that pays only semi-regularly, I have gotten used to these calls. I usually put them off a day or two. Something about this one was different, though. There was an urgent energy surrounding this call. So I called back, only to find out that my car loan went to collections, and that I could expect it to be repossessed any time that day.

Fucking banks. I have had this loan for four and a half years now. It was 80% paid off. Because of the nature of my work, I had been in arrears before. They always got their money. Well, with only half a year left to pay, and only two months behind, they decided to arbitrarily send it off to collections without a by your leave or a thankyou for the thousands I have already given them.

The bottom line was that the collection agent gave me until Monday morning (this was a Friday), to come up with $3200.00, and thus avoid repossession of the source of my income.

To top it all off, within ten minutes of that call, The Goddess found out that she did not get the job in child protection that we were really, really hoping for.

It was a banner day. I almost did not make it through that one. So I called Alyx.

To make a long story short, Alyx, being the dear friend he is, helped us get a loan for the $3200.00, and the car is now ours. Making lemonade from lemons, this affords The Goddess and me the golden opportunity to restore our shattered credit ratings. Even sweeter, the actual amount owing on the loan was $4300.00, and by doing it this way, we were able to screw the bank out of some thousand dollars or so. The loan we got is one where we only have to pay a small amount of interest every month, and have a year to to day to pay the principle back in full.

And that, we will do, mose assuredly.

The incident also forced us to sit down and take a long hard look at out financial situation, and our goals. We developed a budget, we discussed our dreams. We have the resources to make those dreams reality, but I must say in all honesty, I fear that unless The Goddess takes control of her life, those dreams will be scattered to the wind.

Lowlandz celebrated his birthday this passed weekend. I'll not reveal how ol...I mean young he is. We threw him a surprise party at a pool hall here in town, and I believe a good time was had by all. I most certainly did; it offered me a short break from feeling so shitty.

Happy Birthday, man.

Alyx is almost ahlfway through his chemotherapy, still sporting a full head of hair. It is something of a medical mystery, this is for sure. Nevertheless, the treatments are making him more tired, and undoubtedly this will continue as the treatments do. We are all anxious about the next round of tests that are coming up to detemine the effect of the treatments thus far. Given his youth, vitality, and beautiful soul, I am sure things will be fine. I am also sure he is going to take steps to ensure that we do not have to keep reminding him to take things a bit easier. He and his wife are having a few of us over for a BBQ on the 9th, under the guise of thanking us for being there for them. Given the people they are, it has not been a difficult task, no thanks are necessary, but I am looking forward to my first steak of the summer, so I am not saying anything.

Things have been really, really great among Sis, myself and The Goddess recently. This is all I can say about that. It is all I want to say, lest I jinx things. I do want to add, however, that I feel very badly that her roommate is parting ways with her. I fear the financial strain this will put on her. The Goddess and I have also had to borrow money from her recently, and I fear that she will interpret the progress we have made as a means to get something from her. This could not be further from the truth, but old patterns and beliefs are hard to change sometimes. We have enjoyed her for her, and no other reason.

Mom still isn't talking to me.

As for the new version of Spiritual Journey, it is on its way. I promise. Most of all, I promise this to myself. Despite how trying things have been, despite it often feeling like an insurmountable task, I have enjoyed this experience for the most part. My journal is a constant friend, always there waiting, ready for something new, ready to be worked on as I work through life...

...as I continue trodding down this path.

But right now, my feet are hurting something awful...