Warm Embraces

1.21.24- I haven’t heard my mother’s voice since she left Colorado prior to the New Year. I am not proud of my behavior preceding her departure. I was sharp. short, and just kind of nasty. She was in my home. How could I not show her the grace that she has shown me for 31 years. How could I not at the very least be patient and courteous. When you’re in the moment it is hard though. You are trying to balance the expectations of others with your own well-being. I was worrying about others when I needed to be worrying about myself. I didn’t need to entertain them. I didn’t need to worry about meals. I needed to worry about how I was feeling and how I could get myself feeling better. Instead of stressing, I needed to be relaxing. I’m not exactly sure why I couldn’t relax. The almost trumpet like sound extending from the proboscis of the situation is deafening. An elephant exists.

The morning takes a brusque turn. I’m watching the re-play of the Laax Open presented by Grendys and the Bombhole and I’m overcome with anxiety. At first, I’m like up, pacing, wondering what I should be doing to be productive. It’s pre-7am. I am able to settle back in. About a half an hour later I am overcome with emotion. I don’t know what brings it on and I can’t really pinpoint why I am so sad. I am in my mind. Do I feel something in my back. Can I pinpoint an area of discomfort in my left and right abdominal region below my rib cage. I truly don’t know. My mind says yes but my body says no. Or is it the opposite. I’m not sure. Megs wakes and calls me to come to lay with her. I instantly lose it. I need her embrace. I need her to squeeze me. I tell her of my discomfort and she attempts to soothe me. It helps. I’m out of control, but her embrace helps. I take half an Ativan. I need some help today. There are so many things to think about. So many relationships to consider. It pains me, but I try to let go. I try to close my eyes and focus on my breathing. It helps, but there are bouts of sadness, bouts of anger. I come too. I calm down. I am lucky to have embrace. I am fortunate to be able to squeeze. I am encouraged to let go, and for this I am gracious.

When we took a stop from skiing yesterday we had a drink at Windows deck. Just a beautiful afternoon for a classic vista. We were enjoying a table on the deck when a large group came strolling in. Before we let them take over we needed to assert our position in the Vista and get a quick picture. Surprisingly, I know the first guy who comes rolling up, a skier. Gretch asks him to take a photo and he waivers like the huge coward that he is, but agrees, shakingly. We get it done, and another dude comes up to say what up. This dude is unique. Max, we’ve both been in the valley for a long time and are seemingly about the same age. He’s really happy to see me as I am to see him; We don’t know each other that that well, but we’ve rolled in the same circle for a long time. He boasts of his return to Michigan and how he doesn’t love it, but is making a plan with his life. Max is a good dude, a grinder. At some point I share with him my struggle with the Capital C and he expresses his condolences and encouragement. Then he looks deeply at my face. Asks me my age. I tell him about to be 32, and he stone cold says something like, “yeah, I can see the disease has taken some toll on you”. He means no harm and is really just brutally honest in nature. I try to stay strong as we keep conversing and I show my excitement for his new ventures. It is hard though. All I can think about is my appearance. Do I look worn, do I look like I’ve aged years within days. Maybe it can be that I’m not wearing sunblock. Whatever it is, it was evident to him, and probably evident to other people. I don’t want sympathy, I just want my health, my youth. I am not old! I am not aging because of this disease. I am perpetually young. I love you Max, but fuck you.