Strangest thing. Going to see my mom sort of centers me now. In all this uncertainty, cell phone charger in the warehouse I am staying in SF, bike and flip-flops in a friend´s house in Oakland, my negatives and photo paper in El Cerrito, not-really-boyfriends away on trips, work that isn’t my work and pays badly.
Today I took a nap and awoke panicked and anxious, convinced that I needed to join the marching band in Rio or learn the piano as soon as possible or I would certainly go my own degree of nuts. That I had to have a heart-to-heart with someone and tell them how much they meant to me. With my best Oaktown girlfriend who hasn’t been able to see that her eccentricities are her superpower. With that secret boyfriend I had 4, 5 years ago. Tell him that even though we needlessly kept it from everyone at the time, and even though we see each other every week now and pretend it never happened, that our year together wasn’t nothing. That it happened, and that it made a permanent mark on me.
Then I stopped by mom´s to pick up my negatives and to spend a little time. I sat down next to her and she put her arm around me. We were both completely concentrated with that gesture, into the point of a pin. I realized this was the best form of communication I have with anyone right now. That this moment was the most useful and true one I´ve had in at least 48 hours.
How could this thing, this bizarre illness that continues to twist and turn my mother´s mind, that has been the source of all above mentioned instability, that has caused me to give up everything I worked for, that has caused me so much sadness; how could sitting with her be what gives me the most peace?
Beats me.
3 comments:
cool blog. im dealing with a person, my new father in law, whom alzheimers. never been around this illness before, and have no idea where to begin, or end with this cvool old brother. i go for my wife yolanda, thats all i can say. the old guys fucked. (sorry) i believe in his moments of lucidity, he knows it to. 69 years old, spanish, and proud as a warrior... i'm am american living in spain a long time now, and this is the hardest... read my blog
jlevel77.blogspot.com its fun---jess
I kinda believe there arent problems of a needed especificity for them not to be understandable for anyone. in a way human drama has no form and still theres no doubt our problems are our problems and no one elses, if theres something we can be sure about, its that. so, finally, we get to the point where it doesnt help or matter that anyone can get it, its the fact that we feel them that really kicks in the guts. so, from this side, its not relevant alzheimer or whatnot, its the idea of what u feel that becomes a message to be read.and, i guess, from your side (this including any kind of distance, us, arg, mother, doughter..) u shouldnt care about any of this but the presence of others, those you claim kinda get something when speaking or listening to you...
so, no answers but sharing the same questions...
and....
i get to read your blog, both languages!.
lovesya,
jimmy
You badass, you. Now I feel a LITTLE better about calling you Jimmy instead of Jaime.
Yes, i think I have been very befuttled by why the process of keeping this blog seems so helpful to me. It didnt really make sense that publishing my daily sad confusion without a predetermined goal felt so goddamn good.
But maybe it is just what you say, knowing that maybe someone kinda gets it. Especially in this situation that seems so uncharted and senseless and abstract and fucked.
Gracias por las palabras Jaime. besos
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