Sunday, May 12, 2019

The Reservoir

I have been of late trying to figure out coping strategies for the final six months in Nashville.  My tentative date of departure is October 15 at the latest.  It all hinges on how quickly we can finish the last part of my dental work and in turn how well I can pack and go.  My plan is to start now and I have no problem myself doing the heavy lifting but it is when I have to rely or depend upon others that my resolve falls away.

I am not sure if my depression is just the frustration over the teeth. It is difficult to function and to feel comfortable, I cannot eat what I want and I feel exhausted just dealing with all the issues that surround the care and maintenance of the tissues and the denture as I wait for the next phase to begin. That is when the implants are uncovered, capped and the impressions made to begin for the final teeth to be crafted and in turn installed.   At times it sounds like a car being prepped for repair!

Then there is the frustration this process has alighted, the issues of my temper and my snark to lead me to say things that I should have not, suggesting that a gun to my head would expedite the process and perhaps at least allow for better communication.  Again I tried to manipulate the situation playing victim in a place that lives for victimhood so it led to the Cops coming to my door at 7 am to do a "wellness check." That threw back most of this a couple of months for me to calm down and try again to find some level of communication that would work.  And that actually never happened as once again I was hauled into a room and asked why I was always alone at my appointments and how did I get there?  Seriously is this for real?  Do I appear incompetent? Apparently.

The struggles began early when I went to the schools, I have written extensively about how horrific those are but I realized that is where much of my energy and passion comes from, children.  To have that one source of energy that filled my reservoir taken has left me depleted in ways even I did not realize.  The trauma, the poverty, the long standing legacy of racism and generational ignorance has affected the culture here like a cancer that cannot be treated let alone cured.

I tried volunteering and found the same smug territorial-ism that I encountered in the community, the eye rolling, the ignoring and the lecturing about how something was done wrong and rarely a kind word or genuine attempt at bonding.  Offers to go for coffee were met with the passive acceptance but later excused as unavailable.  It became a constant push pull to try to meet people and when any offers were made it was to attend their Church, a house I had no interest in visiting.   But I did go and no offers were made to come to lunch, brunch or again but prayers were proffered and I accepted them with the intent they were given, with grace.  But once over I was alone again.

My days were spent futilely and desperately between Yoga classes, long walks, online shopping, book reading, and sitting at varying coffee shops reading the New York Times and harassing the staff for laughs.  When bored I would go through my endless stash of no longer fitting clothes, things I did not want nor need and pass them off, not to buy friendship but to stave off guilt for my sitting there for hours having nowhere to go and no one to go home to.   I would have gotten a pet but when I knew I was here for the short time there was no way I would make that kind of commitment and I watched how people here seemed to connect and relate to their pets - they had them and they walked them, rarely cleaned up after them, the dogs and even cats seemed desperate for attention and they too glommed onto each passer by as a potential friend.   I saw myself in those animals and felt what they felt.

I have tried drinking too much, crying not enough and mediation to stave off the anger, the rage, the sadness and the like and it never did more than make me feel worse.  As I watch my reservoir deplete I worried that it would one day take a torrential down pour to refill it and then it would overflow and burst as a result changing the landscape forever.  My greatest fear seemed to get closer with every day that passes and as we have come to learn with global warming it can snow in May so I am on full Weather Alert between now and my time to depart but every day seems to bring more rage and anger.

I worry that my personal reservoir can never be full enough to be sustainable and as a result I am permanently damaged in a way that further closes me off.     Every effort to try to build a friendship or some type of healthy relationship has led me to hit the proverbial wall.  One can only hit a wall so much before the cracks lead to total collapse.

Withdrawal and retreat is a tactic of war and of sports only the idea is to rethink one's strategy and find the opponents weak spot in which to wring out defeat.  You wring out dish clothes and rags and I am one rag of a towel.

A loner by nature is not of nature as we all have to eventually find a tribe, a pack, a school, a colony, a swarm, a collective in which to belong and to feel a part of a whole.  I cannot even find a half anymore.  I laughed when I saw the #SexStrike. Really? Can you strike from a job that you do not do anymore?  And was it a job?  At times it felt that way and the times it did not I could walk away I would cross that picket line.  I miss sex but its men I don't miss or maybe its just the men I used to know. 

I used to say it is not the size that matters (take that however you want) but it is the quality of that which you take or is given to savor and take pleasure from.  Well I know at age 60 there is no one who wants even a taste.  The water has sat to long in this reservoir to be of use, it is stagnant.  Funny water is deep as am I.

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