I'm doing lots of renovations these days. The work I put into my home seems like a wiser investment than romance, and I have something to show for my efforts. It's rewarding, and a smarter use of my problem solving skills. Its calming and physical and gives me something constructive to focus on. Little by little, I'm fixing things, and soundproofing my home finally. (!) It feels like progress. You guys, the sirens are already so much quieter, I could cry tears of joy.
I'm also doing fun genealogy research which is always meaningful to me. It's a pleasant way to spend free time too.
Outside my safe little bubble however, the last several weeks were emotionally exhausting. Between a schizophrenic's meltdown, two alcoholics' meltdowns, and my methhead half-brother's meltdown, I had my hands full. At least I was warned about two of them, so half of the unsavory behavior I witnessed wasn't a total surprise.
After all the addicts finally wore themselves out, I gave myself a few days to dry my tears and recuperate, and finally had a chance to speak with my mother who just survived another surgery. She complained about Methhead's temper as soon as I said hello, and said she doesn't want anything to do with him. (Well that makes two of us!) She said she loves me and I said I love her. She said she can't tell my brother about me because she needs to protect me from him. Her intuition surprises me at times. I won't even repeat the vile things Methhead said. I'm just relieved my mom is recovering and in good spirits.
I had a good conversation with my dad too. He said I never gave him any trouble, that I surpassed everyone in the family in wisdom and virtue, including himself, and he said he was proud of me. Maybe he felt guilty. He spent the rest of the time telling family stories (which I absolutely LIVE for) and said I'm so much like my great grandma. It was a good talk.
I was invited to my musician friend's milestone birthday, and I actually don't want to skip this one, even if I'm the only one wearing a mask, the only sober one there, and the first to leave. He wrote too beautiful a description about aging and music and life. Never knew he had such a poetic heart. The soul of an artist. Always my favorite type of person. Live music doesn't hurt either. A little lighthearted fun will be good for me.
11:48 p.m. - 2022-10-14