Existential Crisis

i find myself in a particular state more often that i thought possible.  i’m not certain if there are increasingly more triggers or that the same ones that have always existed happen to be more prevalent in my life, but this state of frustration i visit regularly.  i wish it were a destination i rarely happen to make it to, but it’s more like a weekly & sometimes daily excursion.  every so often i can revisit this place several times within a 24 hour period so maybe it’s a matter of my only thinking that i left when in fact i just happened to be on the outskirts. i wish i could spend less time there.  it’s not like a Caribbean getaway, unless that getaway occurred during the peak of hurricane season with a category 5 about to hit followed by a tsunami and mudslides.  occasionally i find myself drifting towards the location all day long, fighting the magnetism and finally giving in only to find that i want to SCREAM, but i’m surrounded my people who still seem to think i’m relatively sane (they don’t know me that well) and would not be able to handle the nervous breakdown i feel entitled to have on a regular basis.  i would go to the doctor to see if there was something wrong with me, but that would require that i have medical insurance so i’ll continue to self mediate with my favorite bottle glass of wine that doubles as an iron absorption enhancer among other remedies…

i have a propensity to procrastinate (say that ten times fast).  perhaps i avoid the things i really don’t want to do, or more problematic, i postpone the necessary because i’m afraid of failing–which will ultimately happen with a lack of planning and execution.  i should stop and ask myself, self, do you realize that in stopping to write this blog post you are essentially practicing the act of procrastination rather that counteracting it by actually doing work…as i said, i should.  i won’t because that may be productive and that would no longer be procrastinating.  if nothing else i am consistent.  (i just had to take a moment to examine my hair to see if i have split ends and could justify a hair cut tomorrow–more procrastination).  it’s now 11pm and i rarely stay up this late.  i could have gone for karaoke because it would have been fun and i didn’t get the paper written anyway.  hmmm.  if i didn’t drink that WHOLE pot of coffee i would go to bed.  i’m not awake, i’m not able to sleep…i guess this is purgatory.

I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love. -Leo Buscaglia

I’ve spent a significant amount of time over the last few weeks thinking about death.  I am not grieving, I have not recently lost anyone, but I know someone who has.  Death is an inescapable reality, but somehow it remains a difficult concept to comprehend.  The absence of life is easy, but death itself is more complex.  While some argue that after life the only existence left is the memory of those who remain I choose to believe/hope that there is more.  I’ve spent years engrossed in poetry that dealt with death, loss, suffering and grief.  I still have hope.  Regardless of the suffering I’ve seen or experienced I still have hope.

on thursday afternoon our dog sam was put to sleep.  it was painfully obvious to all of us that the time had come, but it was still hard to have to say goodbye.  on wednesday night he lay in the dining room wretched in pain.  i cried as i watched my father holding sam trying to soothe him to sleep.  it was then that i said goodbye, i rubbed his head and told the big old grizzly bear good night.

even though he’d gotten old and crotchety over the last few years when he was ready to have some fun he’d grab a ball or toy and give it all that he had.  sometimes i can’t help but wonder if the last two years with our new puppies took all that the old man had left in him.  perhaps it was his painful puppy past that came back in his old age as he hovered over his food, growled at you if he had a bone and you walked past, or held onto toys like he’d never get them back if he let you have it.

regardless, we have many fond memories.  he was like our own air bud.  he’s catch the ball with his front paws while standing up on his hind legs.  he helped to raise my nieces-laying down to watch as they napped, pushing his way in front of them to keep them from crawling up the steps, and always willing to help them clean their plates.  i remember when tridaija was born.  she was premature and came home looking like a skinned rabbit.  she was still a wee little thing when she fell off the couch and sam caught her in his mouth.  he just held his mouth open waiting for someone to scoop her out and lay her back down.

that old man had personality…i’m going to miss him