OK. I have a lot to say, but I can’t. I spent the best part of my youth being told: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.” That lesson , of course, was usually intended to re-enforce the opinion of the advisor, but I find it has come from the past to block my attempts to write my post for this month. I usually write about the things that have occurred to me in the days before I begin, but the last few weeks have provided only things I probably shouldn’t put down for any or all to see.
First and foremost there have been medical problems to deal with that are not mine to discuss. They’re my family’s, but not mine. They provided much concern and nervousness, and a few awkward (for me) adjustments that I should have taken in stride but couldn’t. Seems I’m not the cheerful, supportive “can do” guy I once was. I struggled with the logistics involved in helping where independent family had always emphatically NOT needed help. Suddenly, help is not only needed but relied upon, and I’m just not used to anticipating the needs and wants of others. I try, but like my favored Cleveland Browns, failure seems to have become a way of life. I constantly have to ask when the next appointment or treatment or medication will be due, and usually forget anyway. I’m getting a little better at preparing meals, but my limits mean the menu is limited and probably getting boring.
But there have been other concerns as well: There’s the political atmosphere surrounding us now. It’s hard to bite my tongue that hard, but I don’t think yet another opinion would appeal to anyone (least of all to me) so all I can do is try to ignore all the grand pronouncements and endless analyses, and continue to urge people to learn Canadian, no matter WHO wins the race.
There have been bereaved relatives whose loss is private and need not be mentioned here. The challenge of how to help in their grief is a problem that talking (writing) won’t ease. There has been the heartache of a friendship betrayed that has in many ways complicated all these other things, but, again, not my place to describe or detail openly.
And I’ve spent entirely too much time watching the woman I love above all else be in pain, and that is messing with my head. I get angry at odd things; I forget what I’m doing when I see the flinch cross her face; I even catch myself ignoring or dismissing others whom I love because I don’t want to drop the ball in another area.
So I had better not write about any of these things because I really don’t have anything nice to say about them.