The Luxury of Death
What the fuck am I gonna do? We can't die. We don't have that option.
Twitter is a funny beast, isn't it? On one hand you can communicate with celebrities, get as it happens news and connect with others who have similar interests and life situations. On the other hand you can get obsessed with the details of the lives of celebrities, get invented news stories that serve to muck up a landscape already crowded with people who have "the truth" and "a balanced perspective", and become so close to those who have similar interests and life situations that when something serious happens in one of their lives, even though you have never met that person, you feel broken and sad, and weep.
Special needs parents, although being part of a world which has many inhabitants, often feel like an astronaut without a tether, endlessly floating in space, alone. I don't get out unless it involves a necessary grocery trip or a medical appointment for one of my children. I don't get to celebrate holidays, I don't get to have a drink with "the guys"... I missed out on a chance to meet KISS, for crying out loud! A lot of sacrifices made in the name of love, the love of a father for his son and daughter, a love that willingly makes sacrifice after sacrifice but feels the loss of them all the same.
In cases such as this social media becomes that tether, connected to the lives of those who can honestly say "I know how you feel", a tether that often provides the life you need to get up in the morning one more day, clean poop off of the walls and get kicked in the kneecap as you navigate the process of school preparation. I wake up, I turn on the computer, and I check my Twitter feed to see who actually got to go out on a date with their spouse the night before, whose child had a meltdown-free day and whose child had to be medicated that night because they just wouldn't calm down.
We can't die. We don't have that option.
Who is going to take care of our children when we pass from the scene? Sure, some of those children will grow to be adults who can maneuver the daily routines of life, with assistance, perhaps, but maneuver they do. Others require a level of care that leaves their parents exhausted, with no one they know who they could trust with the care of their children, or even someone who would be willing to take on such a burden. Those parents do not have the luxury of dying. The irony is, the stress of their situation may bring on such an end before they normally would reach it. Kind of hurts to get kicked in the kneecap over and over again, you know.
I have breast cancer.
And those words acted as a metaphorical kick to the balls, rendering me unable to give a shit about The Interview or Rajan Rondo or whoever hates the Duggars that day. What the hell, Lord? Do I have that many friends that you think you could hit one of them with a hell of a disease and think I wouldn't notice?
Good God, that sounds selfish, doesn't it? A close friend gets a diagnosis that overturns her world and I'm concerned about how it affects my life? Who the hell am I? It isn't my story! I should be concerned about her husband, her daughter, her future, and yet I am weeping because my close friend's illness is going to overturn the applecart of my life? I mean, WTF?
But you know, I've always been one who looks the issues of life in the face and say "Let's cut the crap". I cannot pretend that the illness of a close friend whom I have never met, and whom I may never get to meet, has not hit me hard. Harder than it should? Well, I'm not taking on that cause today. Tomorrow isn't looking good either.
Find Christ again. I need you to.
Well that leaves me in a bit of a quandary. My friend needs as many sources of strength as she can muster, for her and her family. Yet I want to tell Jesus Christ to fuck off. What to do? Do I stand my philosophical ground and not give Jesus Christ the time of day? Or do I stand with my friend who needs all the friends she can get to stand with her and for her, put away my lingering doubts about the presence of God in our lives, and beseech God to spare her the pain and heartache that cancer usually brings?
Find Christ again. I need you to.
I am not strong. Let's say that again. I am not strong. I am tired. I can't listen to my son hurt himself day after day after day with the doctors that could help him scheduling us for a month off. I can't bear to hear my daughter cry when my son screams, which causes my daughter to cry even harder. I can only get 4 hours of sleep so many days in a row before I emotionally collapse. This life is not easy and I am not Superman.
Find Christ again. I need you to.
Hey, Jesus? It's me. We need to talk....
Twitter is a funny beast, isn't it? On one hand you can communicate with celebrities, get as it happens news and connect with others who have similar interests and life situations. On the other hand you can get obsessed with the details of the lives of celebrities, get invented news stories that serve to muck up a landscape already crowded with people who have "the truth" and "a balanced perspective", and become so close to those who have similar interests and life situations that when something serious happens in one of their lives, even though you have never met that person, you feel broken and sad, and weep.
Special needs parents, although being part of a world which has many inhabitants, often feel like an astronaut without a tether, endlessly floating in space, alone. I don't get out unless it involves a necessary grocery trip or a medical appointment for one of my children. I don't get to celebrate holidays, I don't get to have a drink with "the guys"... I missed out on a chance to meet KISS, for crying out loud! A lot of sacrifices made in the name of love, the love of a father for his son and daughter, a love that willingly makes sacrifice after sacrifice but feels the loss of them all the same.
In cases such as this social media becomes that tether, connected to the lives of those who can honestly say "I know how you feel", a tether that often provides the life you need to get up in the morning one more day, clean poop off of the walls and get kicked in the kneecap as you navigate the process of school preparation. I wake up, I turn on the computer, and I check my Twitter feed to see who actually got to go out on a date with their spouse the night before, whose child had a meltdown-free day and whose child had to be medicated that night because they just wouldn't calm down.
We can't die. We don't have that option.
Who is going to take care of our children when we pass from the scene? Sure, some of those children will grow to be adults who can maneuver the daily routines of life, with assistance, perhaps, but maneuver they do. Others require a level of care that leaves their parents exhausted, with no one they know who they could trust with the care of their children, or even someone who would be willing to take on such a burden. Those parents do not have the luxury of dying. The irony is, the stress of their situation may bring on such an end before they normally would reach it. Kind of hurts to get kicked in the kneecap over and over again, you know.
I have breast cancer.
And those words acted as a metaphorical kick to the balls, rendering me unable to give a shit about The Interview or Rajan Rondo or whoever hates the Duggars that day. What the hell, Lord? Do I have that many friends that you think you could hit one of them with a hell of a disease and think I wouldn't notice?
Good God, that sounds selfish, doesn't it? A close friend gets a diagnosis that overturns her world and I'm concerned about how it affects my life? Who the hell am I? It isn't my story! I should be concerned about her husband, her daughter, her future, and yet I am weeping because my close friend's illness is going to overturn the applecart of my life? I mean, WTF?
But you know, I've always been one who looks the issues of life in the face and say "Let's cut the crap". I cannot pretend that the illness of a close friend whom I have never met, and whom I may never get to meet, has not hit me hard. Harder than it should? Well, I'm not taking on that cause today. Tomorrow isn't looking good either.
Find Christ again. I need you to.
Well that leaves me in a bit of a quandary. My friend needs as many sources of strength as she can muster, for her and her family. Yet I want to tell Jesus Christ to fuck off. What to do? Do I stand my philosophical ground and not give Jesus Christ the time of day? Or do I stand with my friend who needs all the friends she can get to stand with her and for her, put away my lingering doubts about the presence of God in our lives, and beseech God to spare her the pain and heartache that cancer usually brings?
Find Christ again. I need you to.
I am not strong. Let's say that again. I am not strong. I am tired. I can't listen to my son hurt himself day after day after day with the doctors that could help him scheduling us for a month off. I can't bear to hear my daughter cry when my son screams, which causes my daughter to cry even harder. I can only get 4 hours of sleep so many days in a row before I emotionally collapse. This life is not easy and I am not Superman.
Find Christ again. I need you to.
Hey, Jesus? It's me. We need to talk....
posted by The Man at 9:44 PM
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