Monday, March 4, 2013
I am a clown. A certifiable circus freak. A bearded fat lady, wolf boy, fraud. A deceiver, a fool. I hand out wisdom and suggestions like nuggets of gold found in the Colorado streams of my mind. Two young neighbors came to my door, separately today. One was struggling with what she desperately wanted that she saw others getting, and is out of her reach. Another is struggling with newly discovered serious mental health issues. I took them into my home and warmly panhandled my advice. My sage homilies. Not two hours later a recent immigrant came to my door asking for such advice, as she had mined at this profitable stream before. Eureka!! Her pouch was filled with treasures of ideas as well. I prepared meals to take to church for distribution for the homeless. I called an ailing friend to make plans to visit, so she could enjoy looking forward to a little something. (Oh yes, this prospector is righteous as well!) And I am a complete and utter fraud. I know nothing about what to do for myself. Nothing. I find myself shrieking nonsensical things like, "what makes you think you can wear pajamas?!" And, "why are you looking for what isn't lost?" Sometimes I fear I might actually be losing my mind. My old cats continue to decline, reflecting the gradual departure I am living through. My son's girlfriend--whom I love--left him again, as he can't make the kind of commitment that is reassuring enough for her. Another body blow of loss. I can dress the part and wear the hat and talk a good game for others. But I can't deliver. Not for myself. Not for him. I know not how to alleviate this terrible pain and I can't stand the feelings of constant and complete loss.