16 September 2017

Forever chasing that elusive present moment, while instead I am dwelling on the past and fearing the future. I can do that really well, multitasking etc.
In between sunny spells it has been raining hard, like some angry god throwing sharp pebbles down by the handful here and there.
Visitors are on their way, their train is on time, beds are ready and R is cooking. This will be a first for me, entertaining with vertigo. Or very early good nights. I often think of the people I know who suffer from  migraines and how much we have in common. Right now, it is the fifth attack in three months and it won't be the last.
There is no other word for it, I feel under attack and yet my body is doing it all by herself. After the last reprimand from the expert (be proactive, never mind prescription rules and side effects) and begging my bones to please remain strong, I am now helping myself to generous amounts of cortisone - I am not stupid, there is a protocol,  I will do this only for four days.

Last night, R was out having fun with friends who asked about me and he described me as social recluse. When he told me, long after midnight, I got really angry a bit upset and ready to protest. But yes, that's what has become of me. This disease has too many surprises to pretend it doesn't change the way I live. And it is me who sends R out into the world on a Friday night. And it is me who waits for him to come back with funny stories and pictures and the smell of drink and laughter on his breath when he kisses me.

So what. Did I mention that he is cooking right now? Something with porcini mushrooms and Spanish cheese. Last night I finished book 17 (Single & Single) of my annual challenge of (re-)reading all John le Carré novels in chronological order. Seven to go, plus his autobiography. Don't let it be known that life isn't good here.

Earlier, my father called and made a most generous offer. I tried in vain to refuse (so far) and I am hoping he'll forget. It involves money, obviously, and in my dysfunctional family, this could develop into (legal) warfare.  He has a point,  but one that will never be accepted in court.
Also, my sister has stopped communicating with him or maybe he did. Both claim to be 'immensely' relieved with this dreadful situation, while I can feel their hearts breaking.
I wish that my heart was cold and hard, that they leave me out of it, that they let me mediate (never!).
But most of all, I wish we could stop dwelling on the past, fearing the future. That we could all find the elusive present moment where nothing else matters.


My life so far said...

Families seem to be able to hurt each other in special ways that strangers could not.

The big guy are both social recluses. We rarely go out but it seems to work for us. Glad you'll have company this weekend to enjoy.

A Cuban In London said...

I hope you get better and that you have a nice time with your visitors. I love Ray LaMontagne. Thanks.

Greetings from London.

37paddington said...

i hope your company is easy, and that you go to bed when fatigued, and begin again tomorrow. love.

Colette said...

This is such a good post. I didn't want it to end.

Ms. Moon said...

Sometimes it is physical problems which cause us to be more reclusive, sometimes it is the other kind. And oh! How they can get together and work in tandem! I went out today to a very dear friend's house for a little party for my daughter who is going to have a baby and there were only eight people there and I love every one of them and it was the most relaxing, lovely time and yet...while I was there I started getting hives on my leg and on my arm and by the time I got home, my inner arm was aflame with red-hot itchiness and welts. I've been home for less than thirty minutes and it's already much better.
I swear- I can just laugh about this because it's so obvious and silly but this is the way my body reacts when I go out, even to the most innocent of activities which should be the very least stressful.
I can only imagine what it must feel like for you to go out with your physical symptoms. I hope this latest attack dies under the cortisone quickly and leaves you feeling better.
And families...ugh. They can be the most horrible, can't they?

am said...

Interesting to think that in some ways you are a social recluse and yet in this realm where we meet and converse, we all go out regularly and maintain active social contact through writing, in the same way letter writers used to do. It is occurring to me that one of the times I feel most in the present is when I am reading and thinking about what blog friends have written and writing in response. Music puts me in the present. So does time spent in the woods and by large bodies of water. Looking at Orion rising early in the morning. Reading a good book. Good food. In good company. Moments of being in the present between remembering the past and wondering about the future. Now I've remembered a book that I'd like to read again. Moments of Being, a collection of autobiographical essays by Virginia Woolf.


Maybe you've read it.

Steve Reed said...

Oh my. Families!

I'm not sure you would blog if you were truly reclusive. After all, you're sharing quite a bit of yourself here. It's more like your mode of socializing has changed, to fit your present circumstances.

ellen abbott said...

I'm a social recluse though the word I use is 'loner' though it's by choice as opposed to a result of a disease. 30 minutes of social interaction and I'm ready to flee.

Anonymous said...

I tend to be a social recluse here, visiting with actual humans only when absolutely necessary. I entertain myself with the beauty of our planet, and when then lets me down... I am really really down. Families push every button we have. Someone told me once it's because they know where they are.. they helped put them there. Take care, Sabine.

beth coyote said...

Beautiful post, Sabine. Family fuckery is, well, fuckery. We here in the USA know all about that right now!!

And it is raining here, praise the lord of storms. Finally after a terrible dry summer and many huge forest fires.

Carry on, dear pilgrim.


Hattie said...

It's tough. I'm having a bad spell right now because I have to go off a great cortisone drug that makes me feel like a happy normal person. Now I just feel like a gassy, congested invalid. Since I'm in the same bind as you can't offer much useful input, I guess, just understanding

Ajax said...

We'd change a bajillion lives if we could find a more simpatico alternative to steroids. Such a catch-22 drug.

(Gah, I could have sworn you were added to my reader feed already, but i've come to realize not so! Haven't commented anywhere much, but I thought i was up-to-date with my blog reading - catching up here now.)

I *love* that song. By all accounts and figures it should have tired on me now, but no siree, still as sad and haunting as ever.