Breathe

This is hard work. This trying not to fall apart is really hard work. I try to side step the feelings, the feelings of intense resentment turned into rage, into something a little more sane.

I've gathered about me a few books I know have 'medicine' in them, A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, Choosing Happiness - Life and Soul Essentials by New Zealand Writer Stephanie Dowrick and a few other basics, favourites really, such as the The Holy Bible and Tao Te Ching.

Just having my books beside me on the bed remind me that all this is not my life. This is the reality of another and has absolutely nothing to do with me. Both my grandparents have a story together that has been in existence long before I was even thought of and without any interference from any of us, it has to play itself out. And each of them, maybe, I don't know -- be accountable or at least responsible for their actions -- But there is a part of me that says that's bullshit. Papa is in no condition to participate equally in these attacks from her, defenceless in his own dying and completely helpless.

She sits alone and 'sharking' at the kitchen table and neither CG nor me can speak to her, let alone look her in the face, to do so would be to engage her. The fucking silence is deafening. 'The heavy influx of pain and negative emotions'--

O.K. -- I now stop, and remember I have a choice in how I feel, who and what I give my attention to, and I remember my self talk. Breathe Sass, breathe in and out.