The Chocolate Abattoir


I ought to continue with the projects I am working on, however, I feel as though I need a little time at Ye Olde Lustratio.  I need to be here in the way that I get to be here.

The boss may or may not be facing some major medical issues.  It would not surprise me if that were the case.  I…I find myself cursing this year, and cursing yet another insane blow to just..fair and orderly living.  And yet, I cannot raise my fist to the sky and let my heart be consumed as an empath perhaps might generally be inclined.   Instead, I feel worried and frustrated for everything and her health is not only a part of that, but also a cause of that and I just have to back away so that I can remain true to myself about it.  I said that I was behind her 1000% and…in that moment, yes.  But enough to spread myself another milimeter out on the carpet, to give more than I am when I’ve already decided I’m out of the solar system of these particular problems.  I don’t know yet and it feels hugely fucking callous to even contemplate blocking out worrying about someone in your life’s medical suffering – particularly in light of how wildly and total and utterly I find myself bound by my emotions when it comes to my mom’s health.

I want to think of myself as wide open.  As vulnerable and soft and open to the suffering, rather than cold-hearted.  But this is a new place for me.  I can care, but I can’t feel pain for others, I can’t burn myself hot enough to kill someone else’s cold.  I am only me.  So I hope she gets taken care of, I also hope I find another job. Trufax.

+338 words elsewhere.


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