As I was waking up today, I kept trying to figure out if it was Monday or Tuesday.
My driver for Tuesday is a good friend of mine, the one I text silly things. She hadn’t said anything about driving so I figured it must be Monday.
It was a good half hour before I realized it was only Sunday.
The further in this nightmare with my dad I go, the harder and harder it is stay connected to things like calendars.
I used to be so curious - because I’m always curious - why so many talented artists end up dying young. Why they often struggled with so many mental health issues.
I get it now. Not that I’m so talented. But I definitely get the struggling part!
People get so weird about spirituality. Even though so many people will spend $200 on a concert ticket for someone who openly admits that a lot of their inspiration comes through in dreams or other ways like that.
When you open up those channels to allow the inspiration in, it’s hard on the head. The more art that comes through, the harder it is to stay grounded.
The closer to the edge you live, the harder it is to find reasons to stay.
Watching my dad go downhill so quickly isn’t helping.
I recognize that my relationship with my parents is not the healthiest. We’ve been a fucked up little triangle since I was a kid and I served as their extra pair of hands. Not uncommon in large families, or any family really.
Which I AM SO OVER. Don’t get me wrong. So much of what I’ve been working on these last couple of years is figuring out WHO I AM. And quitting job. I’ve literally told them that: I quit as the family servant. Done.
I’m not unique in this. It’s the lifelong pursuit for most of us humans. Figuring out who we really are, stripped from cultural and family expectations.
Damn it ain’t easy.
It all feels wrong now. Him being so weak. No matter what he was going through, he was always so physically strong. He walked around the hospital floor after he LOST HIS STOMACH. Of course, he had an epidural in his back but still! He had those strokes (there was more than one but my mom and I agreed to just say “stroke” because people got so upset when we mentioned that it was multiple) and kept on going.
Like so many humans, I’ve let fear rule too many things in my life.
People say I’m so brave. But I often don’t feel brave on the inside. I do crazy shit, but the whole time, I’m like what the fuck am I doing!!? Don’t do it Julie, but it’s too late. I did it. Then I step forward to the next crazy jump.
Most of the time, I feel like that insecure, neurotic girl with the bifocal glasses and her nose in a book. Do any of us ever really let go of those versions of ourselves? I wonder that all of the time.
When I spoke with my friend yesterday he kept saying: you sound like you!
I realized all those posts about how I’ve changed have confused people. I’m still ME. I’m still silly and joke and love to converse. It’s more of how I handle things, tasks, move through life that has changed. I’m not as sharp as I would. I’m not as certain about things - I used to be such a know-it-all, so annoying - now I’m like: don’t listen to me, I can’t remember jack.
I guess what I should tell people is: imagine me at 85 years old. Still wise-cracking, talking too loud, all of that is still there. But I’m forgetful, I’m physically more wobbly but also can do exercises that will trip people out, I can’t drink or eat! I’ll say what I’m really thinking now. I’m a little old lady. If people think of it that way, I think it will be easier to make the transition.
I think, in the end, I’m a better version of myself now.
I’m more compassionate for sure. I’m not so quick to judge, or tell someone what I think they should do.
I’m more fragile.
And more strong, at the same time.
My spidey senses are definitely hyped up more these days too.
It’s not usually clear. I just feel tugged in a direction. So much of how we stay alive in this house is because my mom and I banter back and forth about what’s going on medically (she is the one that figured out that my skin had an infection. I’m the one that connected it to my gut. We shall see how that plays out, it’s not a new theory, but it keeps being proven correct).
Things will either fall into place or they don’t. For example, when I started that cancer teacher blog, things kept going wrong with the website. Until finally, a dickhead on Fivrr fucked up the back end for good.
It was the same site that an asshole in San Diego tried to charge me ridiculous rates for when I was in chemo and not thinking straight. Because he was a friend of a so-called friend, he gave me back some of the money.
Anyway, the point is that the project falls apart when it’s not supposed to work. I remember being bummed but also thinking: well, I guess that’s not it.
Then I look at how the podcast is working and how the idea came to me so clearly.
I have a note on my bathroom counter reminding me to post the racism episode in a bunch of activist groups on Facebook.
I haven’t done it yet.
I’ll admit, I thought I wanted to be more known. I thought I needed / wanted the accolades.
Now, I realize, I just wanted the people closest to me to give me some props. I’ve felt invisible for so long, it makes sense that I feel this tremendous need to feel * seen * and appreciated for who I am.
Maybe I’m healthier now. Maybe I’m just fucking scared. But I don’t want to be known anymore. Not beyond where I’m at. I’m still at the place that I’ve always been. Known in my own professional circles, some regional connections.
I like this level, I’ve found. The next level terrifies me.
Damn I don’t like being dependent on others. I’ve mentioned that it really boils down that little girl inside me that’s still thinking: dammit, I can do this BY MYSELF! Lemme try! I want to do this on my own!
I don’t want to be reliant on others for however long I have left. I fucking HATE that idea. It’s in large part why I didn’t settle down. Sure, there’s some trust issues. But it’s not really that because I know a lot of really lovely dudes. Or, maybe I’ll find a woman who would make me super happy, I don’t know. I don’t rule anything out.
I didn’t settle down because i wanted to see if I could make it on my own.
That was really, really important to me. Still is.
I know it’s hard for people to understand this. Especially those in my close orbit, who would love to see me safe and sound in a little house with someone whose insurance I could get on.
I can’t. Not now. Maybe one day. But it HAS to be because I WANT to, and not because I HAVE to. I just can’t. That goes against everything I am.
I go for the gold. I think about my ex. The one who was the professional athlete and died on a mountain the same week they find the large masses in my ovaries. We were actually too alike. There were a lot of reasons we wouldn’t have worked out in the long-term. Most of all, our lifestyles were completely incompatible.
Both so stubborn, wouldn’t give up until we reach the top of the summit. Even if it meant dying in the process.
Fuck. It’s all too much. All of it.
I’ve had these two parts of me battling for so many years. The one who wants stability, and the security of being part of hive.
Then there is the other part of me that’s like FUCK THIS SHIT, let’s fuck some shit up!
One of my improv classmates in the first 100 (I took the same class twice because I missed so much of the first session, and slept through other classes, literally in class, I nodded off while they did skits) said to me after the last class: I like how you’re always fucking shit up.
You never know what’s going to pop out during improv which is so much of the fun.
I kept having characters that were doing something like off-loading boxes onto a ship late at night. That was my offer. Someone else suggested they were human butts! Then I said something about the Kardishans ordering them. That was a funny one. Or, I’d randomly arrest people, or be the robot trying to mess things up.
I don’t want to push myself out further. I’m just making that clear now. Here time-stamped on June 9, 2019 (ha! Funny inside joke with bestie about June 9, 30 years later, still makes me smile).
It always made me roll my eyes when the haters would try so hard to knock me down in the online activist groups. Or when people try to hold me back in some way.
I’d think: do it. Take me off this path. I’d welcome it. I’ll go find a boring house and a boring life and live my life doing boring things.
It sounds absolutely lovely.
We always want we can’t have, right? Age old.
I watch my kitties eat and sometimes, they try to eat out of each other’s bowls. It’s not even human nature. It’s just nature.
If we have curly hair, we want straight hair.
If we have straight hair, we want curly hair.
I’ve said it before. Bad things happen when I try to get off this road. It’s the only reason I’ve stayed on it this whole time. That and the part of me that wants to fuck shit up has gotten stronger.
I got a text late last night from a young person - not related - saying how much they appreciate what I do to fight, for them, for the Cause. There’s more to it but all I saw was the very last line until today.
Did I mention that we can’t leave my dad alone? It’s been so hard on my mom. I guess his running buddies are over visiting with him now. They love him so much. That’s been such a source of joy for him. To not have that in his life….
I remember yelling at the surgeon who was going to take out his stomach. I told him: you can NOT cripple this man so that he can’t do his work-outs anymore. Make sure you only take what you need to. He won’t want to live if he can’t do his work-outs with his work-out buddies!
ASHGHGHHGHGHH! I want to hide under the covers and listen to my stupid Pandora. I want to run into the woods, find a beautiful little cabin and write stories. I want to escape all of it. I’ll trade bodies with ANYONE, literally anyone that has functioning insides. The shell doesn’t matter to me. As long as it gets me from A to Z, I’m fine.
I didn’t finish Altered Carbon, too violent for me. But I loved the science fiction storyline (though, why are there still gross Patriarchal things happening well into the future like how they abuse the women? Also in Westworld! Seriously, can’t these men think of anything else to do with that kind of technology and power? Besides abusing women? So fucked up). That people can switch bodies and download their personality or brain or whatever into any body.
If I have the option and the human race is still around, I’m coming back as the most basic person ever in my next lifetime.
The kids tell me I’m not even close to basic, which I guess is a compliment. It’s taken me at least two years to attempt using that word.
I love it though. I love having them keep me up to date. I like when they make fun of me, so I know what’s stupid and what’s not. I don’t mind when they tease me because I still have to be somewhat of a grown up. But I like knowing WHAT it is that is stupid.
These kids. It doesn’t matter if I want to hide.
They need adults to speak out.
I never understood how important it is to experience more of the world. So much of this is the problem in this country. Across a lot of demographics, one of the main things the voters all have in common is their exposure to different demographics.
There is a reason that New York City is so damn blue. And REALLY blue. Not fake blue.
It’s hard to maintain stereotypes about people when you’re practically sitting on their lap on the subway, and watching them with their kids, and sharing many lines per day with them listening to them do regular shit like order coffee.
We’re all so fucking human.
I talked to a lovely old friend yesterday which made me very happy. He finally moved out of New York City last week! He’s been wanting to for a long time. We talked a lot about the different cities. He’s traveled a ton, and his parents are from other countries so he gets it all.
We talked about how Seattle used to be super blue collar. I hadn’t thought of it in that context before. But he was spot on. Seattle DID used to be so blue collar. My dad was higher up on the food chain then because he had his own business.
Now, it’s different. I think Seattle is having an identity crisis. Well, shit, the entire country is having an identity crisis. Let’s get real.
Who are we? What are we?
We’re a bunch of fucking humans trying to get through the day. None of us more important than the other. None of us BETTER than the other.
I keep thinking about that doctor, who saw this other stoic, powerful doctor get cancer and was crying in his hospital bed sobbing: I didn’t know how bad it was on this side, I didn’t understand.
We’re not that different from each other.
I’m tired of hollering. I’m tired of not being believed. I’m tired of living in a body that doesn’t work.
I think my next podcast will be: I Don’t Want to Die
I have to make sure the title fits in the little cover art. I like the parameters. I like a challenge. I always have.
But geezus, even I need a few things to not be SO hard.
Anyway, I want to explain why I shared what I shared on Facebook. So many people don’t get it.
They get all upset when someone commits suicide! But so many don’t want to talk about hard feelings or hard things
Um, you can’t do both.
You can’t prevent suicide and also have your head in the sand.
That’s why that text from the young person made such an impact on me.
They get it. They feel heard when I say things like this. They feel less alone. They know it’s ok to SAY I AM NOT DOING OK. THIS WORLD IS FUCKING HARD AND SCARY AND PEOPLE ARE CRUEL I DON’T KNOW IF I WANT TO BE HERE.
I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one feeling that way these days!
Tiring. So tiring.
I know I need to finish my story I started yesterday. It’s a good story with a good ending.
I’m praying that my dad has a few more of those.
How stupid to worship a pile of paper.
That won’t be worth shit once clean water is hard to come by.
We will inadvertently become a gift economy.
Water. Food. We’ll end up back where we started. The chaos and fighting depends on us.
Depends on so many things that are decided now. So much to do.
The kids need to feel prepared. I think I’m going to offer them some classes on how to do shit in real life. Give them some actual USEFUL skills. Besides ordering Uber on their phone.
They are so anxious. I believe they want to learn. They want to feel like they can survive in the world that we’re leaving them with. Instead of vacations, I wish parents would take them to areas of the country to rebuild areas damaged by weather / climate change. Help rebuild houses. Plant trees. Teach them to give back, and learn useful skills at the same time.
Not sit on the beach. Or sit on the beach AFTER doing something productive, or a once in awhile trip.
I’m very practical.
They want honesty. They want real. They want to feel like they can share what they’re really feeling.
I posted that on Facebook for them. I don’t have many following me.
But that one text was all I needed to know I’m on the right road, in that respect at least.
I can’t be afraid anymore. I know people wouldn’t want me thinking this way, but I’m worried if I don’t push myself out further, that the bad things will happen to my dad, not me, this time. (Though I worry it’s too late….)
I can’t have that.
When people are letting me wither away, that’s one thing.
BUT MY FAMILY!!!!!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!??!???!?!!??!?!?!?!??!!?!?!?!??
That’s the last straw.
Whatever chains the Patriarchy still has wrapped around me, are coming off.
FUCK THIS SHIT.
He did it all right. He did it all right, and still got fucked in the end.
People prioritizing money over lives.
Oh, they’ll say it’s another issue they’re voting for. A country in the middle east, for example. Or guns. Or abortion. Or they hate liberals, or whatever download they’ve chosen to believe from the Internet, take your pick.
It’s because they won’t admit the truth.
We CAN pull this off if the leaders on this side can get their shit together and let go of ego.
20+ candidates [shake of the head] instead of working TOGETHER. No, let’s divide ourselves and our resources in the fight for HUMANITY.
All right, I gotta finish my other story and I’d like to record my podcast today if I can get it together. I’m hungry which means the recording will be a good one. I know, super fucked up, but there’s a reason why fasting is so intertwined with spiritual pursuit.
Easier for the words to come through. I’m hungry a lot of the time anyway so might as well as create some art while I’m here. It’s too early for eggs anyway. I can’t eat them too early, otherwise, I’m foraging through the fridge at midnight. I’m so SICK of puddings and ice cream. I stupidly bought this disgusting vegan ice cream yesterday. Blech. I’ve really been trying to keep the weight on and coconut ice cream is the best way to do it. BUT I AM SO SICK OF IT!
What I would do for a big pile of vegetables. Mmmmm….nope can’t go there.
I really need to have more bandwidth so I can create better foods for myself.
Can’t do that! I have to spend too much time doing shit like tracking down the paperwork for food stamps! Maybe one day, maybe one day soon….