DNR

DNR

Today I got a call from my dad telling me that my grandmother isn’t improving. They are taking her off all life support and basically letting her go.

At best my grandmother would have been in a wheelchair and need constant taking care of. She never would have wanted that. My grandmother has been the most independent woman I’ve ever known. I wonder if I get some of my wisdom and power from her?

Her husband died years ago, and one of her children. I don’t think she has many friends left, and at best they are the kind that randomly call just to keep in touch.

I wonder what death feels like. Is she trapped in her body right now, unable to communicate but just see what’s around her? Can she even move her eyes to see anything anymore? Maybe she’s just floating above her body, waiting. I wonder if this like when you are really excited to go on a vacation, sitting in the airport, waiting for boarding. She is just waiting for her plane to take off. I wonder if she is trying to say good-bye, and excited to say hello to her dead family and friends again?

Where do we go when we die? Do we just evaporate into air and our energy gets spread out? Do “we” actually go somewhere or just carry on? This isn’t a question of God, because God exists in all these ideas. How can everyone that’s ever lived die and yet me know so little about it?

It’s raining in New York City today, the rain is pouring down. It’s the kind of day that you just sit inside and hope it stops soon. Being in the rain reminded me of how great it feels to let the rain fall on you. I took my umbrella and let the drops cover me. It’s this feeling that everything will be ok. Everything can be washed away, and we can all start over. My grandmother will never stand in the rain again. She will never feel the drops hit her skin and feel like everything is ok. She will never smell flowers again. My grandmother will never sit in front of The Price is Right and yell out the prices, or turn the page of another bad mystery novel.

I think she is ready to go. I think she has been ready for a while. I wish I could have known my grandmother as a person, I wonder what secrets she has and stories that she’s never told anyone.

The last time I spoke to my grandma was December 2nd, and only for 5 minutes. I told her that I bought my plane ticket and couldn’t wait to see her. She was excited and told me that she loved me.

I guess I’m going to be waiting for that plane longer then I had expected.

My Grandma is Dying.

I am supposed to go and visit my grandma next Monday. Not in 4 days, but in 11. I've was planning on going to visit her a few months, but I kept putting it off. It's not that I found reasons not to, as much as that I was going through a break up and then I started a new job.

I've been working on the Artist's Way and part of that is grabbing life by the balls. I've been trying to keep in touch with people that I've lost touch with and stay connected with those that I love. I called my grandma and bought a plane ticket to go and visit her for Christmas. My plan was to leave on the 21st from NY, visit her for a few days and then head to Michigan to see my parents and sisters.

I got a call today.. my grandma is in the hospital. My aunt, that I haven't had a conversation with in years, found her laying unconscious on the floor. She wasn't moving, but she was alive. She called an ambulance and now my grandmother is laying in a hospital bed. She isn't talking, or moving, and I don't know what that means. Is it a coma, can you be in a coma at 90?

I feel sad.

But I also don't feel much of anything. I love her. I have had some great conversations with her, and I'm 25. I've known her all of my life, so why do I feel so little? Should I feel more? Should I be crying in a corner? Should tears be streaming down my face? Why do I feel guilty for feeling less?

My grandma was married once, he died before I was born. She never remarried. She lived the rest of her life alone, what if that happens to me? Am I dead inside? Sometimes I think so.

She loved mystery novels, the really shitty ones that only old people read. She LOVES them. She would read them all day long, I think they were her family in a sense. She made me want to read. I saw how much she loved them and how much she took away from them. She made me want to explore the world, explore things beyond my backyard.

I never saw my grandma cry.

Why aren't I crying now? Is it a missing gene? Why can I cry over some stupid relationship that didn't work out, but when it comes to death in the family I am like stone? Why do I feel like I'm outside looking in?

My grandma loves chocolate covered cherries and those dry cookies that come in a tin.

My grandma asked me a few years ago, "Do you have a special friend?" She knew I was gay and cared enough to ask me if I had someone special in my life. I didn't. I told her so, and I could see sadness in her eyes. I reminded her that she didn't have a boyfriend either, she laughed and said that she had enough romance in her life. Can you ever have enough romance in your life?

What if I'm 90 and die alone on my kitchen floor?

Finally, some tears.

Blueberry Muffins

So, I'm making blueberry muffins today. And I'm very excited. It's been a while since I've made them and I love them to death. Might not seem important, but, I'm really dorky. So, it makes perfect sense! :-)

T

Crushing

I just had this idea
Maybe it was a vision?
I saw the same place
Maybe a couple new windows
A dog
A life
An idea
Honestly, I thought it'd fit really nice
I was under the influence
Maybe you could change
Maybe I could leave myself
Again
Maybe abandon it all
Again
I thought maybe
Under this influence
I thought maybe we could be the dream
This idea
This thing
This everything in the world that says we can't
That's what I wanted from you
I wanted you to complete my fantasy
And now I know
It's completely unrealistic
Its not your fault
It's all me
I wanted it perfect
I wanted what you showed me
I wanted what you said you could be
Not what you showed me
I wanted life
I wanted fearlessness
I wanted your freedom
I wanted to help you and share your pain
I wanted to be there for you when you were sad
I wanted to hold your hand
I swear I did
And life seems unfair
With every snowflake I see
I keep thinking you might be hiding
But you're not
I keep thinking
A snowflake
We'll call it a sign
I keep thinking one day we will be safe and sound
But like every flake
Every piece that I see
We are both fragile
And we both clearly break at every seam.

Life... or Something?

Lately I've been on this self help kick, self recovery. All those crazy new age things, and honestly, THANK GOD. I am tired, but I feel emotionally and mentally worked out. Usually I just go to the gym, but lately, it's been a full body thing, mind, soul, all of the above.

I've seen my arms get larger, my chest as well. I've seen my legs grow in size, but only recently do I feel my heart and my soul expanding. It is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. I can't believe that I'm 25 and just now finding all these wonderful things out.

If you've been wondering where I've been, I started doing The Artist's Way and I started a blog with one of my friends. I try to update everyday and have so far been doing really great. Check it out if you're into it. If you have any idea what The Artist's Way is, then def chime in.

I might not know you, but if you're taking the time to read any of this random blog, then I'm sure part of me loves you.

Thomas

http://www.2ArtistsWay.blogspot.com

Why I Blog

I blog because I love it. I blog because it is an outlet for me. I blog because it in a small way allows me to put part of my heart out into the world. I blog because I love to write. I blog because when I am finished I feel better about everything and everyone in my life. I blog because it is what I love to do.

Everyone blogs, I just choose not to live in my head with it so much. I'd rather put it out into the world.

Psychologist?

Today I went to my second session with a psychologist. I've been in and out of therapy since I were a child and my parents got a divorce. I don't think there is anything wrong with therapy at all, in fact, I truly think that EVERYONE should do and talk to one at some point. But, this one did not work for me. In fact, she ended up making me feel as there really was something "wrong" with me. She told me that all the creative empowering work I've been doing is just to cover the surface, I'm deluded and simply choosing to ignore who I really because I don't want to change. HUH? I walked into her office feeling great, my day was awesome, and I have been working really hard to turn all my negative thoughts and emotions into positive ones.

I told that ultimately, I want to wake up in the morning and be happy. I realize that this is semi ridiculously and that no one is happy all the time. I don't mean that I want to walk around with a huge smile on my face for the rest of my life, but simply that I'd like to have a rather sunny outlook in general. She told me that all the meditation work, the light work, the Artist Way, it is all just covering my real issues that I clearly don't want to dig up and discover. I guess she is partially right, I don't feel like talking about how I don't feel like made my father proud growing up. I already know I feel this way, I can't change that, but why is it so bad to want to simply change how you look at it? She is right, I don't want to cry about every incident that happened to me when I were 5 years old and so on. I don't want to rediscover true pain, I don't want to leave an office every week feeling like shit.

I want to be happy. i don't care how I get there, but yes, I want to be happy. What's so wrong with that? I am carving out my own creative path and starting to really feel good about myself inside, so why was she making it sound as though it is pointless? She told me that there is nothing she can do for me, that I clearly don't want to change, that I have walls up, and its my own choice. She told me that I would take years and years of deep psychological treatment to deal with all my issues and that I don't have the commitment to do so.

Ummm, I know I'm a little complicated and that I can be depressed, but to tell me that I have years and years of issues to deal with seems kind of extreme. She then basically told me that I needed to leave, that there was nothing she could do for me, and that if I wanted to just be happy then I should contact a cognitive behavioral therapist. When I asked her if she had one that she might recommend she said, "no, I don't work with those types of people". At no point did she show any emotion at all that she cared about what I were going through or trying to change. In fact, our session ended twenty minutes early, I paid for the entire thing, and on my way out I said, "have a good night, thank you". Her reply, "Shut the door on your way out, I have a message here I need to listen to".

As I've said, I've been to many therapist, and none, NONE, have ever been to cold hearted and seemingly judging. I understand that there are different types of therapy and that all "specialist" specialize in different types and kinds, but I feel as though the way she addressed me was not even as a human being.

Overall, I just feel as though it was a huge waste of time and money. I went in there thinking that I get a little depressed sometimes and I want to make it better. She left me feeling angry and mad, as though there is some deeply rooted psychological issues that I will never overcome and my entire life will be filled with darkness, and it's all my fault.

Basically, I think she was just a cunt.

Meditation

I just did an amazing meditation. I haven't felt this warm, safe, and loved in a very long time. I am smiling ear to ear.

Flowers

I love getting flowers. This might sounds girly, but who cares, flowers are pretty and awesome. I was walking along the street today and I walked by one of the many deli's with flowers in front. I remembered a time when I had gotten flowers and it made me smile. I continued down the block and thought, maybe again one day. Then it hit me, fuck it! I turned around and bought myself flowers. Why should I wait for someone to to do something for me that I can clearly do myself? So now, once again, my apartment has flowers. And they make me smile.

To K: I hate being gay. I really do. I'm not even that drunk at all. But seriously, I hate being gay. I hate how petty people are, I hate coke, I hate how everyone cheats, I hate how people just want to look cool. I want a good job, a house, some kids, a car, a family. A fucking white picket fence, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that.

All I have left to say is, "you live, you learn."