Rolling Downhill
Posted Fri, 01/01/16
My blog Irish Eyes is now officially ten years old. It's hard to fathom I've been writing blog posts for a decade, which for the most part chronicle my writing, the book business, politics on occasion, my pets and bits about my personal life. Unbelievable.
I didn't notice the milestone until I added another year to the Archives page, also adjusting the copyright information in the bottom footer. Ten years! What I wouldn't give to go back ten years, to redo certain aspects of the past decade with hopefully different outcomes.
My first blog post (01/06/06: Reading Sway) was all about my love for the book Immortal Queen by Elizabeth Byrd. At the time, Foofer and Wilbert were still alive but we didn't have Rainee or Kiki yet. I was destined to leave Spokane in 2007. If I'd stayed, perhaps I would have realized Wilbert was sickening sooner and forced him to a doctor. On the other hand, if I hadn't left Spokane I might not have been there for the onset and progression of Mum's Alzheimer's disease. Foofer died regardless of my choices, something I still have difficulty talking about.
And now my hopefully one-time personal venting session begins . . .
The hatefully exhausting Murphy's Law ball of wax began after I left Spokane, and it's been rolling downhill ever since. There have been very few positive points along the way (apart from 2010 when I received multiple publishing contracts with Club Lighthouse), leading me to believe there is some sort of unrelenting vendetta against my family perpetuated by God or perhaps Murphy himself.
Most of the events have been medically-related: my two surgeries (one of which was botched) and endless infections, Dad's heart surgery and generally declining health leading to his death, and Mum's lung surgery and onset of Alzheimer's disease, and her death. In between all of the medical events - always extreme and never typical - there have been the usual runs of bad luck: cars breaking down, pipes falling apart in the house, electrical systems going kaput - the list goes on and on. The bad doings seemed to follow one right after the other without reprieve, something many people around my family were witness to. In other words, if you hadn't been there to see the unfolding crappola you would never believe it in a million years. And I'm just mentioning the tip of the iceberg, folks!
I always tried to reassure myself our luck would change, but it never did. Murphy - or God - have already taken their pound of flesh and then some (so to speak), so why not move on to someone else and leave us alone? When is it enough? The trials and tribulations have tested my already sketchy belief in God, by the way. Prayer doesn't work, and blind faith is not something I ascribe to on any level. If there is a God somewhere, I'm just about convinced he'll not be happy until he exterminates my entire family, including me. For what reason, I'll never know or even try to guess.
I may sound like a raving lunatic (or perhaps be "half a bubble off" as my father used to say), but I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting the daily battles. Something that should be simple and quick always evolves into a messy, excruciating struggle. Just going to the grocery store wipes me out for the day, which certainly isn't normal. Being in constant pain (via my hip and lower back) doesn't help, either. I have no more emotional or physical strength left to maneuver my way through it all. Each catastrophic event seems to weaken me further, probably because I'm never given a chance to rebuild my inner resources before the next disaster comes along.
This blog post is not even remotely meant to be red flags toward suicide. Taking my own life is not an option; it's not something I'd ever do. As tired and weak as I continue to feel, there is still a ball of red-hot anger deep inside that presses me forward. I don't want bad luck to define my life, even as it persists.
Somehow, some day soon (knock on wood), I'll claw my way out of the bad karma mire and float to the top. I can't think of my future any other way. If I don't cling to positive shreds on a daily basis, it's quite possible I'll finally surrender and allow myself to go round the bend once and for all.