a long breath, inhaled -
nothing, and everything
changes - i stop, pause.

I didn't realize I'd been gone so long from my blog - even though I write haikus every day.  I've even gone so far as to submit one or two for publishing and contests. No dice.

Part of why I'm not posting - and perhaps why I should - is my anxiety.  I'm struggling with the new-normal, no matter what I wrote 3 months ago.  Here's a snap shot: 

Today we decided to go out for the day and began to get ready.  Bob fell in the washroom - which derailed us.  He was hurt, but not significantly.  I had to drag him to the shower, shower him, and then drag him (literally, on a towel) to the bedroom to help him get up (we have a system - he's strong on top and can hold his torso on bed while I grab his legs and swing until he's prone on the bed - from there, he can sit and manoever to his chair).  I then had to wash the floor and move his clothes and go back to making breakfast.  During this, he was deeply frustrated and barking orders at me, my son and his girlfriend were queueing up for the shower, and the dogs were yelping to come in.

By 11, we were in the car and on our way - the stress behind him but not me.  By 11, the kids were off having breakfast somewhere.  My family of origin doesn't speak to Bob, and doesn't speak to me about Bob.   My friends and I have decided I either need a drinking problem or a counsellor to help me get through this - and since the gin and tonic is not taking the sting out of my normal anymore - I'm going to layer on counselling to see if I can make this work.

I don't go to church, because it reminds me of my childhood and I no longer have the energy to chase away my nagging doubts about a religion that seems to be based on favouritism and elitism and whose followers don't seem concerned about a world of hungry people staying hungry.  And enslaved.  And ignored.  I sat through a sermon where I heard that homosexuality, suicide, and abortion were sins and realized that I don't believe that shit anymore and needed to leave.  My interpretation of the Bible is one where Jesus makes room for folks, not closes the door on them - so I'm kinda over big fancy churches and their big fancy arrogance.

On Thursday, I fed a homeless guy that reminded me of my youngest son and I spent the weekend missing him worse than I have in a year.  A child's mental illness is like a death that you can't get over - I keep hoping for the best, preparing for the worse, and hoping that whatever happens doesn't happen on a day I'm dragging my husband from the bathroom to the bedroom on a towel.