life before i knew even the outline of a bigger picture

for more years than are knowingly countable, time went by without a thought given to the bigger picture. how it would be, what it looked like, even. in the urgency to subsist within all i thought i knew, it never registered as something to think about. and while overthinking what i think i know is one of my most aggravating human faults, using only imagination instead has never been a strong suit of mine. certainly as an adult, at least. as with so many of the greatest pieces of my life, though, the universe thankfully has showed me that it is still adept at employing that skill, and when i finally got to meet my person, it was logically quite accidental.

through another, it was a chance encounter that stemmed from a long-standing relationship that was mostly friendly. she and i had worked together for years, and while in that setting there are almost always dissonant perspectives to be had, there was also always a strong undercurrent of love and appreciation that usurped any momentary tensions. ails and grievances big and small were always discussed openly with us, when we knew what they were, and regardless of that framework, all the needs of our own and those of our charges were unspokenly met and attended to.

she and i had a lifetimes-before-this-one kind of kinship. even when we couldn’t describe it, though we didn’t always trust each others’ verbal articulations of what were seen to be efforts at logic threads, deeper understandings existed in both our hearts that silently let us know that behind whatever we saw, the intentions of the other were only good. and, whatever the circumstances, we thusly acted accordingly. the magic we encouraged by that and what we made happen together spanned far beyond what we could conjure even in our dreams. and in a resounding testimony, a lot of what came out of it remains intact and strong to this very moment.

but to both my obvious and not-as-obvious detriment, what look to be the more standard, generic, logic-that-we-know-of-oriented notions of others have mired my own purview recently. an acute awareness of the fearful emotions i apparently should be feeling are aggressively pointed out to me time and time again, while those that i actually have are dismissed. the help i finally learned how to ask for gets ignored as it is overtaken by any differing thoughts of those from whom i seek aid. and while the caring sentiments are appreciated, their agendas aren’t mine. and what draws and stymies the attention has ultimately proven to be some of the most dastardly distractions from what i am endeavoring to accomplish before i vacate this life.

in what is a heavy-handed mirror of a past life of mine from this lifetime, others’ itineraries of how they opine my existence to be have dominated far too much of my time and energy. in what is perhaps my greatest frustration, that i have neither to spare also somehow gets overlooked all the time. the sense that i am screaming for help alone in a fishbowl, and the depression that accompanies that blatant social dismissal, cycles and grows like a spiraled seashell with each occurrence. every time i gear up to try again, i watch my body deteriorate starkly with each failed attempt. but as long as i’m still here, i will push past as many dark days as i can to find and gather whatever strength i can muster to continue. how many more rungs i have left to climb isn’t pondered from a scared place, just a real one. my own emotional understanding of the situation is in tact, however bleak it appears to those coming from a place of the unknown. and in my personal experience at least, almost no one asks, so they can’t actually know. even when they say they do.

word choice has always had legitimate consequences to my life. with a career in entertainment public relations, before my world
became as small as it is now, we used language specifically to impart messages and direct attentions. but i see now especially, when transmissions have such a very personal bent, that nothing seems to have the meanings we used them for. academically, or professionally both. but isn’t life humorous how it rolls out. dictionaries were once used as the intellectual barometer of meaning. words, and their definitions, were used and valued as a currency of sorts. currently, though, it seems that we are imparting our deepest thoughts via images and twitterized sizings of text, but don’t know what we are actually saying or what is being said to us. even what we mimic.

messages are getting lost and becoming altered in their meanings, and how we can translate them is beyond my bandwidth to determine. emotional intelligence has always been wrapped into communications, but ironically now that we have none that is consistent, and lesser still that we outwardly share, that communal resonance is what we need more than ever.

stress and feelings of sadness and helplessness exacerbate autoimmune disorders, so with each need to restart, my condition worsens. listening and deductive reasoning in social interaction seem to be at an all-time low. in human evolution, our quietly built-in efforts that for whatever reason encourage us to play a subversive version of “beat the clock” in conversation, lead us to miss what we are literally being told. when the parameters to be worked within, especially those having been stated despite the most personal and vulnerable of circumstances, get summarily glossed over as an unproven shinier thing comes along, the results can be calamitous. there is a time and place for whimsey, but that doesn’t mean it’s to be focused on all the time.

hobbies to some are careers to others, which makes this a pretty cool place to live as well as
learn. but confusing the two can have disastrous outcomes. when responsibility chosen to be taken is shirked, for whatever reason, someone still has to rectify any fall-out. how to do that is not findable in a manual, whatever the cost or fancy coverings they have. what appears to be generosity to some is harmful to others, and vice versa. the accompanying emotional turmoil aside, our only true fault is in not adhering to the stated needs and desires of others.

writing this book has brought up all kinds of memories. parts of the life i led before were rough, but also vibrant. along with most of the aged population, i appreciate it more now than i did at the time. but while writing these accounts of the grueling nature of it and the fun we managed to find in it provide an amusing break for some, while the actual work of it is different than what i did before, it is still a job. and i’m more grateful with each moment to still be able to at least do that. asking for help to sustain it has been its own rollercoaster, and my stash of gentle kindnesses has waned greatly as people who claim a desire to be part of this ride have reneged on offers of all sorts. friendships have been tested, and many have been dismantled and my life rearranged, as they’ve shown to be fickle or false. there aren’t many left to draw from, which is difficult on some levels and freeing on others. but that puts only more pressure on myself and the very few i can count on. if there are even any left.

helping our fellow brethren is all we’re here to do. while that was a big part of my life before, i saw it completely differently as it was also the undefined part of my day job. but i am sure of that as a proper purpose now. this kind of existence isn’t for everyone, but neither was the one i had before. when i interviewed potential assistants over the years, every conversation revolved around the lifestyle the scope of it dictated. few realized all the facets of it, and hiring was as tedious and confounding as dating. that was not a position many could meet the challenges of. but, neither is this. at least i learned parts of what that public lifestyle entailed early. and luckily, before i knew i could just look around for it, i had fascinating human scenery to boot.

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