Personal Journal

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This is the hardest day I've ever had in my life.
I stop for a long pause while I think of other hard days.

The only day that compares is the day Jean died, and I was dissasociative that day. So *I* wasn't there. But I'm being forced to go back now.

"Her kidneys are beginning to shut down," the elderly nurse said. "We're in a 24-hour period."

What did I feel? I don't know. I felt something like a blood pressure cuff squeeze down over my soul, and I heard that voice from the mountain saying "Dig! Dig! Dig!" and I tried to find something more to give, some strength to push me. And I found it instantaneously, as though it were a quality of myself.

But it was not of my own being, because if it were, it would not be so ungodly difficult to find the strength to live day to day as it does today.
I want to quit.
Soldiers can surrender.
But people just can't die. Not even Jean could just die when there was nothing left to live for.
Let go of me lord, because it finally has me beaten.
I gave my best, and now I have no desires. Every feeling is anethma, perhaps with the exception of sadness.

Today I pronounce to the world that I am depressed. I don't think it's something I ever admitted before. I know exactly where I was 6 weeks ago to the minute. Praying for someone to die.

I was praying for the only worldly thing that mattered to me for the last 11 months to be gone from me.
I hate that I had to put into the position to pray for that.
I believe that we get a chance to ask god questions about our lives when we are done with them.
What possible spiritual, higher purpose can be served by praying for someone's death?
Why do I, and so many other human beings have to be put into THAT position?
This relates to Christ, I suppose, somehow, but I've never had the opportunity to think about it before now.

Sometimes I connect all too closely to the PTD I was diagnosed with the first time I was in therapy. I'm going to have to have a long time with Sandra tomorrow. I'm fucked up. I called into work today and just that tomorrow, I'm not going. I'm using vacation. I don't care what doesn't get done. I can't do it tomorrow.

Today was too hard. I can't do it again tomorrow. At 12:30 MST Friday a.m., Jean will have been dead for 6 weeks.

I'm speechless.


It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn