Add to that the cancer thing. It has taken the last week for me to come to grips with the "terminal" aspect of late stage cancer. It is really so much easier to simply remain in denial, as I have done with my uncle. I’m not actually sure that he is terminal at this point, since it has been kept pretty quiet, but ignorance is bliss and I haven’t really wanted to know. My buddy has been thrown right in my face, and I couldn’t handle it for a while. It totally ran me over, and I’m still not sure that I can handle it, but at least I am aware of the fact of how deeply it is affecting me. Now I find out that another close buddy was told that his father has terminal stage 4 cancer as well. I guess that December wasn’t really a good month for stable cellular growth.
At least I have lost some weight recently so I have a few pounds that I can pack on with all the booze I am drinking.
My wife has been trying to point out to me that another freind of ours who was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, with 6 months to live, has been stable for a year and a half now. When you get really down and depressed, you start ignoring those folks who want to help and bring you out of your depression, like, for example, your wife. I am really sorry for that.
It’s a lot easier to simply wallow in your own filth that take the effort to actually have hope.
I remember some NPR story about a Jewish holiday where you are supposed to be happy, no matter how things actually are. This may be a manufactured memory of mine, since I can find no information about this on the internet, but you should never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
The point being that if you acted happy, or forced yourself to be happy, it became contagious. Much the same way that being sad and depressed brings everyone else down. Funny how easy it is to forget these things when you don’t want to remember.
Along with our move, my daughter started at a new school. We have been pretty nervous about this, as she has Selective Mutism. The short form of that is that it is an anxiety disorder that means that she cannot speak in some situations. Specifically, she is in second grade, but has not spoken a single word at school since preschool. Not. One. Word.
She talks fine everywhere else, but it is a situational disorder.
So when we filled out the paperwork for the new school, we added all the information about this and explained to the teacher what to expect. On her first day, we walked her in and introduced her to her teacher. Her teacher looked at her, smiled, and asked her her name.
She replied, "Sasha"
That was the first word she had ever spoken at school. I almost cried. She kept answering the teacher’s questions while we were there. After we left, she was talking to the kids in class, and after class.
We had visited psychologists for months to help her with coping skills, and t see what to do, but changing the environment was the breakthrough. You begin to think a situation is hopless, until something gives you hope. In this case, it came to us because of other actions.
Maybe we need to manufacture a bit for the other problems.