now you can't say I haven't tried...
but after waking up at 4 PM in a pool of sweat and tears I've decided not to sleep tonight so I can feel like a princess tomorrow... well, today... in a couple of hours
a princess with dark eye bags, a princess with a weird way of walking, a princess just awake enough to go to the fuckin' meeting...
oh these are so fun! You should come with me sometime!
we see all the broken people, all the misery of loneliness and dementia... What a fun ride it usually is. I can never wait for the next one!
there is this lady... this dying old lady... she's beautiful, you know?
she is 95+ years old and she has MAJESTIC white hair... Lots of strong hair... all white as silver can be...
her skin is so wrinkly everywhere that it's almost as if someone has been pressing down some of those fishnet stockings on her forehead... Her skin goes so deep! I've never seen skin like hers...
she is lovely, she is quiet and she is very, very beautiful. I've told her that and that was the only time she seemed to understand something - she smiled at me and I could see her eyes smirking as well...
yes, there they have an old, old lady. A very silent one. And this lady has about 10 kids and dozens of grandkids and great grandkids... but... she has been abandoned...
this lady, whose stories I'd love to be able to hear... whose life was surely very worthy of love in her final years... she's all alone.
i've only known her for 2 years but in those 2 years no one from her family has ever visited her...
sometimes I am the one who goes and talks to her, adjusts her bed sheets and tells her how beautiful she is that day.
it makes me feel better knowing she feels *something* from *someone* but I can't help imagining to see one of her family members and.... break their fucking legs.
there are many, many things I cannot accept in today's world. Abandonment is one of them.
fuck, I can't even see a fuckin' cat outside without bringing it some food and shelter!
but... a Mom? A Great Grand Mom? She is not worthy of love and caring in her final, silent years?!
you see, there will come a time (if nature runs its natural course) when you will see your loved ones, the ones who made you WHO YOU ARE go to this sterile places...
and... nothing against. I don't mind that if their passing is near. But when weeks become months and months turn into years... You start to develop ... what I'd call "paradox skin" - you'll have a thick skin to be able to face the realities of what we do ... ourselves really but you will also develop (if you are an empath) a very sensitive skin... you will hurt when you see the amount of pain that goes on everyday, unnoticed.
this paradox is the trigger for inner conflict in dealing with problems such as dementia, alzheimer's, altered states of consciousness...
one has to develop a strong sense of self - you need to be able to know who you really are in order not to let yourself dissolve in nihilist ideas or to prevent living Schopenhauer's problematics.
but... again, one as well has to be able to be soft and gentle enough, compassion assured, to be able to understand and help out these souls who are truly lost.
and by soul I mean consciousness.
the cross roads I've been traveling about are all mind bending in their grey areas. A smile is what? A physiological sign of being comfortable. Think again - it can be a nerve reaction. Screams usually mean pain and agony. But they can also be the only means of communication a certain old man with dementia.
the growling, the heavy breathing, the stench of bleach and sterile materials...
truth be told, I've always loved the sense and smell of hospitals and "sterile" tools. Those black out the senses so I felt really comfortable where I could smell alcohol or bleach. I felt really safe.
that was before... because for now, the smell of bleach reminds me of the efforts to keep the smell of death away. Death smells horrible... and I've read that one of the scents a body releases minutes before dying has an "acetone" accent to it. So... there's no escaping the damn sterile/bleached/alcohol cleaned shit.
it is present when you are ill, it is there until you die, and when you die some scent resembling "acetone" will be released from your pores and lungs.
bleach was safe. Silver tools were sterile.
now everything is tainted.
everything is tainted - ruin for good.
04.30 AM - HEY!
i don't want this meeting... I don't want to be the only person saying hello to the old lady whose stories I'll never know. I don't want to smell the bleach used to clean the beds... I don't want to see the tube in the throat nor the eyes wandering for something she might recognize as familiar...
i don't want to say nothing more.
i want death.
there is life. There is death. No in-between.
because altered states of consciousness are not life. And they're not death also.
Ahhhhh
easing up with some early (as fuck) cuppa coffee .... good morning everyone
