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existential angst.
Jan. 7th, 2025 10:34 amposted photos of our beautiful lil organic cotton cloud futon that Josh wants to offload and nobody wants it. I'm secretly delighted because Avalanche sleeps on it all the time (it is covered in double sheets and a thick blanket and she's never marked it) and she uses it as a ramp for chasing toys and she would miss it the most of any of us.
...
I had this funny realization last night/this morning.... Ever since my mom died, I've been dreading the end of life experience and ruminating on it a lot. Part of this has become getting really scared at night in bed, when I see my pale skinned legs looking really thin and helpless. They are not - I am strong and capable at the moment. But at some point, they will be.
My legs look shockingly like my mom's. In those last 24 hours that my brother and I spent with her in her hospice home, I watched her angelic caretaker rub her down with lotion regularly. So I got to see these pale, helpless legs getting cared for. And they looked so much like mine.
I've been so afraid of this helplessness. I've tried to do all of these things to fend against it. Like sleeping with clothes on, with emergency shoes and bag close by in case of a sudden natural disaster and need to escape this apartment, a stocked prepped car for such an emergency, to get away in or live in for a short time, if necessary. (Emergency canned food and water, lights, blankets/pillow, sleeping pads, extra clothing, first aid kit, etc.)
But I realized this morning. There is no avoiding helplessness. It will come to all of us at some point. It would be nice to avoid it, to always be able to move around of our own free will, to feed and bathe and care for ourselves, that is the dream, but it is 99% of the time not the reality for folks, in the end. All I can hope for, I realized, being childless, is that I have good care, and that the period of helplessness is not very long or painful and that I am not too aware of what is happening, or too afraid. That I have people I feel I can trust around me and that they are kind enough to provide me some sense of autonomy, even if I don't deserve it because I'm not capable of self-care.
I have watched disabled folks burn through caretaker after caretaker, always unhappy, because the feeling of dependency on someone who doesn't do things exactly the way you hope for is such a painful experience. To be at the mercy of other able-bodied folks who have better things to do than take care of your every little whim. I worry about bedsores, something my mom experienced, though fortunately only once or twice and not at the end. But you know that feeling when you wake up in pain, with some pressure feeling wrong, like a blanket trapping a foot the wrong way, and just... the horror of not being able to adjust oneself to alleviate that pain, or to communicate with someone to help you adjust so that it doesn't hurt. I watched my grandfather struggle with this as a small child, in his nursing home, and it was so so so awful. People screaming in the hallways to be let out. Such a nightmare. He had eleven patents. He was an amazing person and accomplished scientist, with a quirky scientist and a loving family. And this was his fate.
My grandmother died this way also. And my father.
It makes one wonder how anyone could ever believe in a god of any kind.
Anyway.
I need to be less afraid to take my clothes off when I have my nightly hot flash at 3am. I am not going to stave off any old age by keeping my leggings on and suffering in my overheated state, unable to sleep.
I've watched too many family members die in too much pain, this is what my brain does most of the time, now. Especially when I've been thrown into survival mode by a waffling, vaguely disloyal partner, that I thought wanted to be with me forever.
My life is really good right now, it makes me more afraid to lose it, I guess.
I'll feel less panicked when I get over this infection.
I'm tired. Need to sweep the floors and go to silks. I should put an order together also, oof, so much to do, so paralyzed with anxiety.
There are much bigger problems in the world. I need to get over it and move on, I know. I will get there.
...
I had this funny realization last night/this morning.... Ever since my mom died, I've been dreading the end of life experience and ruminating on it a lot. Part of this has become getting really scared at night in bed, when I see my pale skinned legs looking really thin and helpless. They are not - I am strong and capable at the moment. But at some point, they will be.
My legs look shockingly like my mom's. In those last 24 hours that my brother and I spent with her in her hospice home, I watched her angelic caretaker rub her down with lotion regularly. So I got to see these pale, helpless legs getting cared for. And they looked so much like mine.
I've been so afraid of this helplessness. I've tried to do all of these things to fend against it. Like sleeping with clothes on, with emergency shoes and bag close by in case of a sudden natural disaster and need to escape this apartment, a stocked prepped car for such an emergency, to get away in or live in for a short time, if necessary. (Emergency canned food and water, lights, blankets/pillow, sleeping pads, extra clothing, first aid kit, etc.)
But I realized this morning. There is no avoiding helplessness. It will come to all of us at some point. It would be nice to avoid it, to always be able to move around of our own free will, to feed and bathe and care for ourselves, that is the dream, but it is 99% of the time not the reality for folks, in the end. All I can hope for, I realized, being childless, is that I have good care, and that the period of helplessness is not very long or painful and that I am not too aware of what is happening, or too afraid. That I have people I feel I can trust around me and that they are kind enough to provide me some sense of autonomy, even if I don't deserve it because I'm not capable of self-care.
I have watched disabled folks burn through caretaker after caretaker, always unhappy, because the feeling of dependency on someone who doesn't do things exactly the way you hope for is such a painful experience. To be at the mercy of other able-bodied folks who have better things to do than take care of your every little whim. I worry about bedsores, something my mom experienced, though fortunately only once or twice and not at the end. But you know that feeling when you wake up in pain, with some pressure feeling wrong, like a blanket trapping a foot the wrong way, and just... the horror of not being able to adjust oneself to alleviate that pain, or to communicate with someone to help you adjust so that it doesn't hurt. I watched my grandfather struggle with this as a small child, in his nursing home, and it was so so so awful. People screaming in the hallways to be let out. Such a nightmare. He had eleven patents. He was an amazing person and accomplished scientist, with a quirky scientist and a loving family. And this was his fate.
My grandmother died this way also. And my father.
It makes one wonder how anyone could ever believe in a god of any kind.
Anyway.
I need to be less afraid to take my clothes off when I have my nightly hot flash at 3am. I am not going to stave off any old age by keeping my leggings on and suffering in my overheated state, unable to sleep.
I've watched too many family members die in too much pain, this is what my brain does most of the time, now. Especially when I've been thrown into survival mode by a waffling, vaguely disloyal partner, that I thought wanted to be with me forever.
My life is really good right now, it makes me more afraid to lose it, I guess.
I'll feel less panicked when I get over this infection.
I'm tired. Need to sweep the floors and go to silks. I should put an order together also, oof, so much to do, so paralyzed with anxiety.
There are much bigger problems in the world. I need to get over it and move on, I know. I will get there.
