Well, those, and insomnia. A 3am wake-up call from my brain.
As I always say, there's certainly fodder, just no time. Or ambition. Which, as I also always say, is ironic, since I love to write.
Or perhaps, loved to write.
Anyway...
I have spent the last two and a half horrific weeks at the hospital bedside of my best friend.
Which reminds me of the countless awkward conversations I've had when new hospital staff members come in or join her team...
"Hi, I'm Dr./nurse so-and-so. How are you related?"
"I'm her best friend. Wait, no, scratch that. She has a lot of best friends. She is my best friend."
And they usually laugh. Or look at me funny.
But it's true. She has no shortage of best friends or people who absolutley adore her.
Unlike myself. I have only her.
She (unnamed, out of respect for her privacy) is very sick , and has been fighting for her life since she was admitted last month.
Many days, we thought she wasn't going to make it. Then there would be a glimmer of hope. Then a backslide. Then hope. Then... back and forth, and back and forth. It has been a terrible rollercoaster.
Much of this time, she has been incoherent, unconscious. She was intubated for the last week, and we weren't sure if she could be successfully extubated. But she survived that, and it gave us more hope.
I'd say I've been praying, but I am not of the faith (much to my mother's dismay). Although, I did ask my mother to put her on the prayer chain, or whatever that thing is that she and her religious friends do. I also told her to pass along a message- that I'm really fucking mad that he's taking my one best friend.
I'm sure my mother understood I was speaking from grief.
Earlier this week, she began to wake up. She only wakes for short periods of time, and is not quite lucid when awake. She is speaking, not always complete sentences or cohesive thoughts, but it is something. And it has stoked that glimmer into a bright glow. We are still trepid, but we are hoping. She is still very, very ill.
I was having a conversation with another one of her visitors this week... I told her that I don't really have any friends. Partially by choice, partially by circumstance.
-By choice, I limit my relationships with other people. It's more than just "keeping my circle small," as some would say. I probably don't even have a circle. I simply don't experience the kinds of connections that others do.
Sometimes, it's not really even a choice. Sometimes, it's purely biological. I just... can't.
-Which inevitably leads to by circumstance, because people sense those things about me, and interpret them as me being mean or snobbish.
This other friend of her's reminded me that there are plenty of people who consider me a friend. And perhaps that is true. But as I said, it is also true that I don't (or, can't) connect with most people.
Don't get me wrong; that doesn't mean I don't care for others. There are a lot of people in my life that I genuinely care about.
But I do often wonder why I have such a difficult time forming (and maintaining) relationships.
Sometimes I even lament the lack of connections in my life.
Sometimes.
Which brings me around to the title of this blog.
The other day, on my way home from the hospital, I was quite perplexed by this.
How is it that I am an empath, that I feel things so strongly (SO MUCH more strongly than I would like, it's a friggin curse), and yet, I also have such a palpable disconnect from most (almost all) of the people I know?
How is that contradiction possible?
Maybe I'll ask my shrink.
It reminds me of a phrase I heard recently in a show (or movie, I can't recall)... "Two things can be true at once." That simple phrase seems so prophetic. I've applied it many times since hearing it.
Anyway... Otherwise, life is generally fine. I guess.
My granddaughter is the light of my life, still. And soon I will have a grandson to add to that light.
I am well (as well as I can be). My family is well.
I got engaged (I know, gasp). No plans for a wedding anytime soon, but eventually.
We have a seasonal campsite on the water now. This summer has been amazing. Albeit hectic, living in two places. My house is disheveled, to put it mildly.
Work is fine (although I have worked considerably fewer hours these last few weeks). And even before this latest crisis, I find myself less interested in it.
Music is fine. Still fun, for the most part. But like work, I don't possess the zeal for it I once had.
Life is... fine.
My children, grandchildren, fiancé, and being by the water bring me joy.
Everything else is just noise.