Not where you left me
They say write drunk, edit sober. The thing is, I tend not to follow through with the edit sober part. A few drinks, and I start posting things willy-nilly, leading to hyperbolic, overblown writing. Also, drinking while feeling miserable is the most abysmal, rotten thing you can do to yourself. There is zero good to it other than a few hours? of respite. But I guess we all fall through sometimes and make bad decisions.
This morning on my morning walk, I thought of my dad. Nine months ago, when he first got diagnosed, he was so overcome by fear that he wanted to commit suicide. I called him one morning while he was driving his truck. I asked him where he was going, but he wouldn't respond. It took seconds for my confusion to swivel and realize what he wanted to do.
Again, a few weeks later, over the phone, he said he bought a rope, that it was in the back seat of his truck, and was driving out of town. I talked him off a metaphorical ledge twice. Would he have really done it? I don't know. Maybe he wanted to test his limits. The sheer desperation of not wanting to see the madness through. But he did. He made it through until the end. I'm proud of him.
Chatting with my sis yesterday, she said that when the people we love die, a part of ourselves dies with them. We almost have to mourn ourselves in a way; the people we were with them are also gone.
I've been keeping busy lately by working on a new email blog (I don't want to call it a newsletter, lol). Will it replace this blog? I don't know yet. I need to try it out and see. It's not Substack though. It's been fun tinkering with it. I like the option of being able to write private posts if I feel like it. I'll let you know when it's all set and ready :))
Anyway, I have to go sing for my supper now.
Anchorless -The Weakerthans. Love these guys. They're from Winnipeg, where I was born ;)