And Then There’s This…

A couple of weeks ago when I had that bad breakdown spell, the thing that set me off was the smoke detector in the house going bad. Every time the furnace would kick in, the detector would buzz and then stop after a second or two. We knew right away there wasn’t anything wrong with the furnace. We have it inspected and cleaned every year. The problem was simply a first generation smoke detector that was slowly dying after twenty or so years of loyal service. And, at the time, I was worried about my hours being cut. How were we going to afford getting another detector hardwired? I certainly didn’t know dick about the things. It was just one more thing in a long list of things. I guess I didn’t handle the situation well, eh?

Then, last Saturday was the wife and I were getting ready to go to the latest bout for our beloved Naptown Roller Girls, we heard the sound of breaking glass somewhere in the house, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint the origin of it. I opened the freezer and saw a couple of ice cubes laying on the freezer rack and thought that they probably had been ejected from the ice maker at a high velocity. It happens. But then we heard the sound again. This time, I decided to check out the bathroom and that’s when I discovered the enamel in our bathroom sink had simply exploded and left a bare spot roughly the size of a half dollar right near the drain. There were pieces of enamel everywhere. Two days later, I was still finding little shards of the stuff behind the door and under the bathroom rugs. Again, it was just another thing in the house we couldn’t afford to fix. I hate to even look at the sink now.

A couple of days ago, I got word from one of my sisters that my father’s cancer is back. I knew the probability of this happening was 50/50 since my dad had eschewed radiation and chemotherapy in favor of a straightforward surgical route. That decision cost him one of his ears and a large portion of tissue by his temple. At the time, it looked like they had gotten everything, but during one of his last routine checkups, the doctor noticed a lump on his throat and was concerned enough to have it checked out immediately. Now they’re pretty sure the cancer got down into this one lymph node and they’re running a bunch of tests to see exactly how far it has spread. So far, I haven’t heard from my father about any of this. For whatever reason, he never wants me to worry from 1,000 miles away. Of course, now I’m worrying about how I’ll be able to get back home if something bad happens. Because, as I’ve already stated, the money situation sucks.

I often wonder at what point in life makes some people want to pack it in? Not that I’m planning anything rash, mind you. I’m just thinking out loud here. How much shit in life is one person required to take before they’re allowed to give up? Certainly, the word “struggle” has always been a part of my family’s vocabulary. I’ve made no secret of it in this diary. But, really, did it always have to be this bad. And now with the anxiety from the armed robbery, the looming financial crisis that is my job, and the possibility of a terminal family illness…I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to be the “sane” one in the family. Because, quite frankly, I feel more than a little numb and shell shocked right now. Every day, it feels like I’m pretending to be a person instead of living the life of one. And I don’t like that feeling at all.

Beth and I have talked over the phone more than usual this past month. Usually our friendship is maintained via e-mail or chat, but lately I’ve needed to hear her voice to feel like there’s an actual connection there. I’ve just needed somebody on the out side of it all to feel a little more grounded. Don’t get me wrong. Lynn’s doing a great job of getting my ass up and moving every day. And she’s trying to make progress as far as me feeling sorry for myself goes. But sometimes a person in my position doesn’t necessarily need a general. They need a friend. And when I first called Beth a couple of weeks ago, she said, “You’ve been through stuff just as bad before. You know what you need to do.” And, at the time, that kind of simplicity was just what I needed to hear. But as the days roll on and I’m still fearful about work and my future, there are times that I just feel lost. Utterly lost. Then I feel like a complete schmuck because it feel like I’m letting down the one person who truly believes in me unconditionally. But I wonder how much of that is just tangled up in wanting something I can’t have at the moment. I am, after all, now in my 40s and entitled to my midlife crisis, aren’t I? Then again, there’s never been any denying the chemistry between Beth and I.

So where does that leave me? Right now the only things I can say I truly enjoy in life are roller derby, music, and doing laundry. Roller derby only happens once a month for six months, then it’s over. Plus it doesn’t pay, but I’ve thought about volunteering in some capacity. Music pays just slightly better, but I don’t play anything. So I’m stuck writing about it instead. Needless to say, I’ve been doing a lot of laundry at home these days. It doesn’t pay anything, either. But at least I like the smell of dryer sheets and I get a sense of accomplishment after banging out three loads every couple of days. At this point, I’ll take what satisfaction in life I can get…

Me, the ultra cool Jane Ire of the Naptown Roller Girls, and my buddy Mike at the Feb. 9th bout.