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I took a little break from dumping my garbage onto the internet. You’re welcome.

On Saturday, I took an incredibly confused and incoherent woman on a plane to a safer place to stay in Florida. At a certain time, this woman was my mother, but I’m not entirely sure she even remembers that in anything more than sketchy memories with faceless protagonists. She picks up threads of conversations from long ago and speaks in pieces of them. Like world’s worst game of Mad Libs.

The trip was at all once surreal, gutting, and in no way cathartic. Instead, it was an experience that felt like something between a nightmare and a strange daydream that runs away from you before you snap back into reality.

At best, maybe it was like a weird, low-budget independent film starring a bunch of lesser-known comedians. The movie would win awards at festivals you’ve never heard of and disappear after three weeks in the theater. Maybe it would find a following on Netflix.

The levity was hard to find at the time, but I did catch myself laughing as I related a small disaster to my wife after getting home. It’s fascinating how we cope; how we process information in a way that allows our minds to survive traumas. I can see very clearly why the loss of that ability to properly process is so overwhelming. A person can short circuit and be in a state of perpetual glitching. Nothing works the way it should and the neurons fire off the wrong pathways.

Frankly, the idea is terrifying and worse: it’s something I need to put a lot of thought into.

How do we plan for something like that? How do we possibly know every angle, every possible scenario, that we could collapse in? Cynicism isn’t enough to dull yourself to those worries. There’s an overwhelming sense of foreboding and as time marches on, there’s nothing I can do to properly ignore the potentials. But then, what if I obsess? How do I prevent becoming swept up in the possibles while ignoring the good things that are here right now?

I thinking maturing is the process in which we realize there are no epiphanies and certainly no solutions to every problem. In my 20’s, I had answers. I had moments of realization that wrapped everything up in a nice little ribbon – all aligned with my current world view. Now, shit, I got nothing. I have no idea if what I do is right or wrong, I only know that it makes the most sense when I give things thought. I only know that this trip was necessary to get this woman into a safe space to allow me to deal with other affairs that require attention in order to secure whatever future she has left and whatever future there is for me and my family.

The worst part? I want to wish I had it bad here. I want to wish my hole was deeper, but I know that’s not the case. I know we all suffer in silence and I know there are so many of you out there that have your own pain and trauma ongoing. It makes me feel selfish to get sad or to collapse into self pity but we need our time to process and heal, right? Its why I’m bothering to write this, to parse this “out loud” so I can find some kind of sense to it. No solutions, really, but something that feels less like chaos, I guess.

There’s perspective there, though. An understanding that I need to find the balance and do as much right as I can so long as I strive to remain kind and to do as good as I can for the people depending on me.

That’s all we got.

 

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