Fall

The cup falls. The tea
is spilled. Milky brown spots stain
the carpet. I weep.

_______________________________________

It’s fall again. Late fall, when I am at my peak energy levels for the year. But I seem to be filled with grief. For what, I do not know. Reading the news makes me sick to my stomach. I watch “Come See Me in the Good Light” and wonder why we don’t want to see them in the bad light and does the love between Megan and Andrea portrayed in the doc really exist. I attend a Trans Day of Remembrance and during a musical performance the grief seeps out thru my eyes.

While watching “The American Revolution” on PBS a detailed description of tar and feathering makes me wonder how humans can be so inhumane to others that disagree with them. I wonder what my ancestors who came over during the time of the Mayflower were like. Were they as evil or were they some of the kind ones?

I struggle to find joy, to laugh. The one thing getting me through is the “Handsome Podcast” which makes me a bit of a dangerous driver as the banter has me laughing hysterically at times. The Chicago Bears hold my interest as do my former high school and college football teams. I look forward to calls with my mother, to talk about the small stuff. I chat with my therapist, refusing to go deep about anything bothering me. Isn’t everything bothering everyone right now?

I read science fiction,“The Children of Time”. I read books about octopuses and birds and wonder how advanced of creatures they really are.

I listen to music over and over; Brandi Carlile, The Beths, Rodeo Boys and random dance music.

I lift weights, walk, cook healthy dinners. I have dinner with my ex, and miss her love and wonder how to transition to becoming close friends with her. I wonder how to be close to anyone as it does not come naturally to me.

I don’t know where I am going with this writing thing, but I write almost every day in my notebook.

When Andrea Gibson talks about their depression lifting once they received a terminal cancer diagnosis, I wonder if it is because they were no longer responsible for keeping themselves alive. Is it because the cancer and the doctors took that over for them?

I don’t know Gibson but I identify with them. I feel some kind of kinship there like I am some version of them and they are/were some version of me. I wonder what it will take to get my shit together or understand that I already have it together, it’s just clouded over by some innate fear.

I read this over and see there are too many I statements and does that make it less interesting to other people.

Do other’s feel like me too?

Leaf on a walk in October, by J just J

This was just a stream of consciousness writing with barely any editing. Hope you enjoyed it even though it is a bit on the down side. But that is how it is for me right now. Happier days ahead I hope. I always hope.

Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, if you celebrate. I know some people do not for various reasons.

I give thanks to all who read this and subscribe, or read this and don’t subscribe :)

If you made it this far, comment with what things you are grateful for this year.

I’ll start. Grateful for my family, my health, and my church family who are still warm and friendly to me even though I stopped going for now. Good books, good poetry, good tv shows and movies. A warm house and food on the table.

I’ll leave here with the video from the song “Salt then Sour then Sweet” by Sarah Bareilles featuring Brandi Carlile. Enjoy.

J