This Body is Bullshit

It’s been a while. I’ve made attempts to get back here. I have these profound, important thoughts on the drive to work or on the way to my dad’s, things I wish I wrote down, and then the second I actually sit down, they’re completely gone. Every single one. Vanished. Just me staring at a blank screen wondering what I was so sure I needed to say.

I know and you know it was brilliant, of course. So here’s what I’ve got instead.

I’ve been burning the candle at both ends and then some. Not just work, work and then my dad’s most nights, which means I’ve also been quietly neglecting my friends. And I feel guilty about that because this has been a hard year for a lot of people I love. Physically, emotionally, marriages, health, money, just life. Everyone seems to be carrying something heavy right now. They need me and I’m stretched so thin I don’t always know how to show up the way they want me to.

For a while I was going to my dad’s in the mornings too, getting there before work to help Kathy with his first change of the day. That worked for a little bit. And then gradually, honestly, I faded on that one. Getting up and out the door has never been my strong suit and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

Sorry, Kathy.

I do try to get there most evenings though. Which is its own thing, because I’m showing up at night right around the time I used to be getting into bed. Remember when I went to bed ridiculously early Those were good times. My whole sleep schedule is a disaster now. I am tired in a way that goes bone deep.

I’ve also been trying to lift weights regularly, which I actually like. I like feeling strong. I just don’t give it enough time or consistency to do much good yet. And my joint pain is not impressed with my effort level.

My dad is different every single day. Some days he’s alert and we have something that almost resembles a conversation. He can’t really finish thoughts or sentences anymore, words disappear somewhere between his brain and his mouth but he’s present. He’s trying. Sometimes he even makes a joke. He always makes faces. Other days he’s angry and defiant. Other days he’s so far away that I look at him and think, oh gosh, and then just brace myself because this could be the end. And then I go back the next day and he lights up when he sees me and wants a hug and tells me he loves me and I think, okay. We’re okay. Today we’re okay.

It’s a mindfuck. I don’t know how else to describe it. I am constantly trying to prepare myself for something I have absolutely no way to prepare for.

The other night he was pretty out of it. Not really talking, not really tracking. Kept trying to take my glasses off my face. Then he started trying to remove my nose. Like, actually remove it. Just casually attempting to unscrew my nose from my face. He was completely serious about it too. He wasn’t hurting me. I thought it was one of the funniest things that has happened and also one of the saddest, and I sat there while he worked very diligently on my nose situation. Apparently the nose had to go.

That’s caregiving. It’s sad and exhausting and scary and sometimes so fucking ridiculous that all you can do is laugh.

The Florida trip fell through. Donna, Terry, and I are not going. Which is a huge bummer.

So I immediately texted Natalie to channel all that disappointment into Mexico excitement because right now that’s the only real getaway I have on the horizon. One hundred and ninety-two days. There’s something strange about counting down to something I desperately want while simultaneously wishing I could slow time down.

I want February. I want Mexico and Natalie and sunshine and the ocean and cocktails and to feel like myself for a little while.

But I also want tomorrow with my dad. Even if he doesn’t know what day it is. Even if we can’t have a real conversation. Even if he’s angry or asleep or spends twenty minutes trying to remove a facial feature.

So that’s where I am right now.

Trying to be a good daughter, wife, friend, employee, dog mom, and somewhere in there, myself.

Tired as hell. A little behind on everything. Probably forgetting something important.

And maybe that’s why all those profound thoughts I have in the car disappear by the time I sit down to write them.

My brain is full. My life is full. There isn’t a lot of room left up there.

But my life is full in other ways too.

There are people I love who need me. People I need. There are friends I want to make more time for. Trips to plan. Weights I’m going to keep lifting. Dogs who need something every five minutes. A husband I should probably spend some time with.

And there are evenings with my dad that break my heart and evenings where he makes me laugh. Sometimes those are the same evening. I don’t know how much time I have left with this version of my dad. I don’t know who he’ll be tomorrow.

I do know I can’t be everywhere. I can’t take care of everyone. I can’t fix many of the things that are hurting the people I love. And I definitely can’t slow any of this down. But I can keep showing up where I can. I can keep laughing at completely inappropriate times. And I can keep having something to look forward to.

One hundred and ninety-two days until Mexico. But tomorrow first.