i just wanna collect bones and pick cloudberries. fuck's sake. i haven't spent a single day of the summer in the deep woods yet.
i hope i can go camping this weekend despite all the bullshit, ugh. if nothing else i want to sit inside the camper in complete solitude somewhere deep in the woods, fighting mosquitos, taking pics of trees, listen to some folk music and get my drawing on.
"Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy." -- Pema Chodron
I wrote about the good time I've been having with the comic Stages of Rot by Linnea Sterte (http://turndecassette.tumblr.com/) from Peow Studio. I hope you'll give it a read, & support Linnea's work!
more family stuff, fatigue, negativity Show more
there are *certain* members of my extended family i met off-the-cuff today and i am just...so flat & awaiting a fatigue dip.
there's just this certain energy around them, it's cloying and makes me feel faint. like a muggy attic, all the oxygen in the room is gone.
you know these upper middle class white families where everyone has a stick up their arse, cold and hollow inside but try to hide it behind smiles & fake pleasantries? yeah. it's exactly that.
cancer, atrophy, death of family member Show more
i wanted to tell her that she's allowed to go, but i don't know if it's my place. the fluid pressed on her lungs (they drained it last week but it keeps coming back) and i could see that every breath was a struggle, her fingertips blue with cyanosis.
we shared a banana, and i told her about some nice memories.
she still smells like childhood safety, but she also smells sweetly with death now.
i want her to go. there's no point in being here anymore.
cancer, atrophy, death of family member Show more
between nodding off from the morphine grandma was happy to see me. her mouth didn't smile but the rest of her face did and she squeezed my hand and told me how comfortable and warm i was.
her distended belly, crowded with tumours and fluid, along with the rest of her body wasted away, was a grim reminder of my own mortality.
she moved to a nursing home today. dad and i got her some furniture and her curtains (she really wanted her curtains)
it just doesn't fucking matter in 100 years, nothing does.
wether we turn to dust, ascend to the heavens, return to the source, become reborn as another creature, whatever you wish to believe...
...you have nothing to lose and everything to gain letting go of fear & judgement of yourself and others.
love grows the more it is shared, and it starts with forgiving yourself fully & thoroughly. the rest is mirrored and will come automatically.
we are all hurting. be kind. become rich from giving.
cancer, death of a family member Show more
the oldest people are now around their late 50's/early 60's and i think about the day i have to clean out my parents stuff.
i guess it will be easier with the passing time, but i would want someone there to help me, too.
we spend such a short time in this form, whenever confronted with death i want to shout to everyone "stop being so fucking mean to one another! it doesn't matter in 100 years, we'll all die and everyone just wants to feel loved & supported!"
cancer, death of a family member, funeral Show more
my mom has no siblings, so i will help her out cleaning my grandparents' house (grandpas stuff is still around from his passing ten years ago) and funeral preparations if it's too much for my dad to handle.
it will be rough & draining, but there is a part of me that feels honored to do this. i will get a chance to be there for mom, and get catharsis & closure.
with her, all the 'older' people are now gone from my blood family.
cancer, death of a family member, atrophy Show more
two years ago my grandma got pancreatic cancer and the fact she even survived this long is a miracle in itself. i thought she would die in march, but she's still kicking, albeit getting weaker as the growing tumors made her abdomen swollen and filled with fluid.
docs estimated she has two weeks left now, and i am seeing her today, presumably for the last time.
spent my whole morning meditation crying.
i hope she'll pass gracefully in her sleep soon.
If you need help, you have every right to ask for it. The world is cruel and seeking out kindness is not a sin.
it's such an unusual feeling to not feel crushed by that ever-present leaden feel of depression. i'm still nowhere near "well" but my good days have increased from being a rare occasion that i need to cherish tightly, to something that became a near-norm the last few months. i still have bad days, bad weeks. but they are rare like the good days used to be, kind of.
i can't even begin to describe how thankful i am to be able to feel enjoyment, inspiration and hope for an even brighter future.