Journal 2/19

"This is ridiculous, what I am doing here, I'm in the wrong story!"

Musical lyrics get stuck in my head sometimes. Jarring phrases and dissonant music, mostly from those most discordant moments in the musicals which made up my high school experience. They were compatible with my soul at the time, and they only begin to echo when my life hits the skids.

Right now, my life is hitting the skids.

I'm lucky. It's not hitting the skids in the "I've lost my job, my house, and my hubby" kinda way. Rather it's the skid we all hit, if we're lucky enough to have a middle class lifestyle and parents who were there when we were kids. If we were lucky enough to be an 80's gifted kid. If we are lucky enough to reach middle age.

My parents are sick. My body is- well, it's not awesome. I haven't done any of the grand things I had hoped to do as a kid.

I am in the wrong story.

In my 40's things are supposed to be awesome. This is when I am supposed to have a job I love (spoiler- I do). A partner I love (spoiler- I do!), and be living my best life. This is where the timeline- the story fell apart.

I never understood those whose middle class lives seemed middle class awesome and yet they poked and prodded at all the corners looking for a way out.

I am going home (see above- congrats if you can figure out what tiny corner in what tiny town that is) to care for my parents. I haven't been able to spend any quality time with my family for a year. I know- none of us have been able to, at least if we give a damn about what happens to those we love. But this isolation, this separation has forced my brother to become the carer for my parents who, I believe, have long haul.

My brother always claimed that if he had to care for them, he'd find an iceberg to leave them on. He's been caring for them for 6 months. It's not something I can expect him to do indefinitely.

On top of needing to adjust to the new reality (gone from my comfortable day-to-day and caring for my folks in a town I swore I'd never move back to after the 4th time I moved back to it), my body is... well, it's shit. I have fairly severe Rhuematoid Arthritis. Last night, I had (granted) one too many glasses of wine and took a tumble. Today, everything on the left side of my body hurts. My fingers hurt. Fuck. My HAIR hurts.

I am currently unconvinced that I can care for my parents in any meaningful way. But I also know I can't put it on my brother any longer. I need to be at least in the same town.

I have fallen into a comfortable existence, and now it feels like I'm required to change all of it to care for those who gave me life.

I am a big, whiny, bitchy mess.

And I'm in the wrong story.