Life is so good. It’s a miracle there are medicines that can treat my condition. I might even get off the k some day. And then I’ll be clean, with nothing but good vibes. Fullness. Wholeness. Completeness. Love.
I’m so blessed to be offer the opportunity for recovery. Some have illnesses that are terminal. But you never give up the fight. Scientists fighting like hell for cures. People die every day. A lot. But we all pull together and do the best we can.
It’s so weird, in restrospect, to survive the death of the cat. That’s the first significant death in my life. The death of the parents will be a blow to me. When my mom’s brother died I was too young to understand the significance, only that she was devastated. When all the grandparents died, too, I didn’t understand. I didn’t mourn. I hope I’m not superficial for it.
A deep 10-year-old mourning the loss of his grandparents. I didn’t have strong ties to them. They all lived in Ukraine.
Mom has a friend in Ukraine. She is struggling with money so mom helps fund her. The system there is broken. Her government stipend (sort of like social security) is less than her housing rent. So it’s fucked. It’s really fucked. This probably goes on in a lot of countries. Of course, it’s pennies to the dollar compared to the money transfer in this country, so a little goes a long way from us to her. I like that mom has a friend from old country.
Dad has no friends. He’s alone. But he’s also weird as hell. =/. He only has the immediate family. Apparently his mother abused him when he was young. He had good relations with his father. He didn’t and doesn’t talk about it much. Now that I think about it, he doesn’t talk about how he defected from the USSR anymore. Used to be his spiel, his go-to story, takes a good half hour to get through, or longer, and it was nonstop. I’m glad he stopped. I had my ears talked off when I was younger.
I’ve survived a lot. Not a war. But. I think a lot.
I won’t talk anymore. Not in this post. I’ve said what I wanted to say.