Foundation cracks

Doctors appointments galore right now. All in an attempt to find out what is wrong with me. The doctor today examined me, pointing out this scar and that. Each one had a story. And, with every story, he seemed to remove himself that much more. 'How did your husband die?' I guess that is a safe question for a doctor. I guess I could have said, 'oh, I killed him' or something like that. What difference is it? I told him, 'well, it was suicide'. "Oh, wow" he replied, quite non-doctor-like.

I'm very familiar this week with what is wrong with me. I am aware of the cracks and crevices that make up my landscape. I know repairs are needed, here and there. But, insurance only takes care of the structural problems, not the cosmetic. That isn't as important.

I was up late last night watching the movie,'Sideways'. I decided what I liked the most about the character of Maya. She never assumes to know anything about anyone. She is comfortable enough and has done the research on, herself. She never would be caught saying, 'oh, I know what you mean'. It is more that she knows exactly how SHE is, but takes the time to listen to hear from those that interest her.

THat was 3 a.m. last night. Afraid to go to sleep. Afraid of what might happen. Bad television. Bad dreams. Or, even worse, no dreams.

I've never been heavier. Great. The jig is up. I can't fake being healthy. I feel like an old house that has tried to 'look' ok, but, at some point, the foundation is damaged enough, that it all just sags. Crap.

I am not giving away anymore of my good, just to be understanding. Just for the sake of keeping things going smoothly. I have lost touch with my dreams, desires, fears. I need to focus on my foundation work. Fuck the porch and the color of paint and the flowers. Eventually, the cracks all start to show.