Chaos and beauty
June 3, 2013
Get used to it! I cut the ugly rosebush to the ground so now I can get out of the driver’s side door of the Westfalia. I filled the green bin, put out the trash, recycling, all the old court papers. Not all–there are boxes more to go through. So many boxes of books and papers I need to clear out. It seems impossible. Little by little I am making dents here and there.
Still in a state of despair and dread. The uncertainty as to where I am going to live, or if I can keep my home of 20 years with or without struggle, crisis, subterfuge, is poisonous . Would that I could just grieve and work and live and pay bills in a normal manner without this underlying deception and ugly, negative bullshit! My landlord is truly a criminal.
As time moves on, the fear and anger dissipate a bit. I can do little tasks, but it is so hard, and then grief explodes. I consolidated his two small bottles of aspirin-wracked by sobs and sorrow . A little while later the pain wears off and I can go back to that medicine cabinet and find something I need, dental floss, neosporin, and throw the empty aspirin bottle in the recycling. Everything is like this, a herculean task. I washed and folded all his clothes and put them in boxes. Sweats, old, worn t-shirts, shoes, socks. It’s just too much to sort, to decide. How can I deal with real things if I can’t throw out his paint-stained sweat-pants? How can I use these as totems to heal, to answer my prayers, to solve the mysteries of life and death? Time will reveal all if I just push through, watch, and wait.
So many different enormous tasks and struggles to face. Doing normal things, working, paying bills, eating, sleeping, driving, playing music–these are not so difficult, I have practice. They are grounding. Dealing with all these new issues is terrifying–a vampire landlord, hospital bills I can’t and shouldn’t have to pay, unreadable forms I don’t know the first thing about approaching. And then there are two worse-than-useless cell phones, the ancient computer on the verge of crashing.
People keep saying, let me know if you need anything. How do I match them up with things I need doing? That will be my mantra: yes, I need help with . . . this thing!
Can I lose myself in my art? maybe tomorrow.