One Wave Short of a Shipwreck

When I decided to do the Year of Resolutions thing, I had no idea what was coming my way. Clearly. Had I, I never would have ventured forth with the project, no matter how brilliant an idea it was for me.

I just figured that I’m better with bite-sized chunks, rather than full-blown permanent resolutions. One resolution, 30 days, no biggie. And at the end of each month, to quantitatively know if it’s been a success or not – or even a relative success (because I’m far from perfect) – is pretty cool.

But almost three weeks in and I’m going slightly mad. I’m sleep-deprived, stressed to the gills, not to mention stir-crazy. It’s only been a week, folks. Mom broke her kneecap a week ago Monday and I’m already melting down. There’s a long road ahead still.

Yes, to be fair to myself (something I’m not very often), I have other birds and kettles of fish in the bush (or whatever). It’s not just caretaking Mom that’s stressing me out. Nevertheless, if I don’t find a rhythm soon and pace myself, I’m seriously going to be fucked. I mean, more fucked than I was twice the past week with my diabetes episodes.

I have snapped at some of my favorite people on Earth recently. I’ve said things I regret. I’ve made a record number of poor decisions and judgment calls the last week. I’ve even pulled passive-aggressive bullshit that would infuriate me from anyone else. I’m not slamming myself  here (mostly), I’m just stating facts. I’m not happy with myself since Mom’s accident. My emotions seem like exposed nerve endings, raw to the touch. I’ve come perilously close to bawling my eyes out. Sunday night, in fact, I had what can only be described as the “dry heaves” equivalent of crying.

Couldn’t make them come.

Here’s how messed in the head I am of late. Monday, I came *this* close to shutting it all down. Deleting EVERYTHING…Twitter, Facebook, my blog…all of it. So overwhelmed by my own assininity that I just figured it’d be easier to say “Fuck it all!” and never worry about social media again.

Fortunately, a leveler head was in mine *somewhere* and I realized that would be stupid. First off, out of all my years blogging, I’ve only seen one person successfully (meaning, permanently) shut down their blog. Everyone else is pretty much full of shit. They come crawling back, usually within a week. “Oops, my goof. I’m back. Please disregard that whole 2,000-word rant about how I’m disappearing forever and deleting everything FOREVER. I couldn’t stay away.”

And that’s the thing. I KNOW I can’t stay away for long. So I followed the advice I usually reserve for my idiot friends who are overwhelmed and ready to shoot their online identities in the face at point-blank range.

That advice? Don’t post. Don’t tweet. Don’t do any of it. For now. Come back when you’re ready. Anything more drastic than that, and you’re gonna regret it.

I have enough regrets already, I don’t need any free refills, thanks.

On top of that, I’m actually (slowly but Shirley) finding a new blogging rhythm. I’ve blogged more this month than I have in a long time. And I think that’ s a good thing. For me, at least, and isn’t that what matters?

What I have done is create an anonymous blog that only *I* know about for the sorts of things that I can’t (or won’t) say here. Don’t ask me for the URL. I don’t care WHO you are, you’re not getting it. It’s for me, and me only.

Then there’s the YOR. I started it, I need to do my best to see it through. It’s daunting, but it’s far less daunting than telling myself at midnight as the big ball drops down in Times Square that I’ll never smoke a cigarette again. That’s the whole point behind my YOR concept. You can do almost *anything* for 30 days.

In order to really make the YOR effective for me, I need to blog about it. Not only does it help me keep a record of my progress (and setbacks) but it also keeps me accountable. My friends read this fucking thing (for some reason that often escapes me). I have a Prick Buddy, one of my favorite ladies on Earth, who swaps blood sugar readings with me via text and Tweets. That helps a lot. So much so that I’m going to try to find a way to have a Buddy for each of the 11 Resolutions to follow this year.

Here’s where I bring up the fact that I do a great ostrich impersonation. My primary method of coping throughout my life has been avoidance…pretending it’s not happening. That’s not healthy. I’ve dropped off the grid many times and I made a promise a while back to Hilly (one of many victims of my sudden and thorough disappearances) that I would NOT disappear again. And I may make a lot of mistakes, but I do try hard to stick by my promises. Not always possible, but I go by the motto: “Make very few promises, and bust your ass to keep the few you do make.”

So I’ll reiterate, if only for my own clarity and peace of mind (fragile as that may be at the moment). I won’t completely drop off the grid. That’s not to say I may not stop posting for a while, if necessary. Or that I won’t stay off Facebook and Twitter for a while at a time. But I won’t totally ignore all of my email (permanently) or phone calls. And I’ll make an effort to stay in touch with my friends to let them KNOW I’m taking a social media breather. For now, though, you’re stuck with me.

I have spent relatively little time on Twitter of late, less than usual. That’s not likely to change soon. I’m still myopic (perhaps more so than when I wrote that post). Mostly, I send out Tweets and only respond to those who address me first. I don’t ever sit in front of Tweetdeck for 45 minutes and spend time interacting, really…reading other people’s Tweets. Not feeling Twitter that way, and I don’t feel guilty about it, either. Twitter is a tool and I’ll use the tool however I want. Heh, I said “tool.” Twice. Well, three times now, actually.

My friends know how to reach me, anyway. You’ve got my number. I sure as hell hope you’re not waiting for ME to call. I’m a little swamped, in case you  haven’t noticed.

Today is January 20th. I have 11 days to figure out what February’s resolution is going to be. Open to suggestions. I have one in mind that seems very fitting to follow up this month’s, but with 12 resolutions in 12 months, I need all the help I can get.

Last night, I was given the chance to get out of the house for a while, and I took it. My TNT girls came over for Tuesday night dinner and they kept Mom company, while my best bud and I went to go see “Youth in Revolt.” It was truly what I needed, a respite from…well, everything.

Lots of laughs (till we were both crying). And as an aside, how come I can be so fucking funny OFF my blog but can’t ever seem to bring it here any more? Dunno. But we ate in the mall food court so we could mock people watch. Then we saw a really good movie.

“Youth in Revolt” has been one of my all-time favorite novels for over 15 years now. I picked it up at a Barnes & Noble and laughed out loud on page 1. Within 120 seconds, I owned it. And there were a LOT more laughs after that. Funny as shit, and very smart comedy, too. I’ve bought that book at least a dozen times over the years, only to loan it out to friends and never see it again. Usually, because THEY loan it out to THEIR friends…it’s a vicious cycle. And I don’t care because it’s THAT good.

The concessions stand guy was talking about “Revolt” last night, saying that the movie seems to have a “cult following.” I didn’t even snicker at what a cult following in Sebring might look like. I just said, “There *is* a cult following, because it’s one of the funniest books I’ve ever read.”

“Really?”

My bud agreed, because I’m the one responsible for getting HER to read it and subsequently chomping at the bit to see the film.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like Ferris Bueller on steroids.” I was pretty proud of that summation because it’s apt and rolls off the tongue well. At any rate, I think I have 3 more converts to the books of C.D. Payne. Yes, people, there are SIX books in the Twisp series and they’re all good.

The movie? Fantastic. I’ve waited over a decade for this flick and I’m happy to say they do the first book justice. Sure, there’s a lot missing, but they did a really good job condensing it down into a 90-minute flick (not to mention modernizing a book that is nearly 20 years old). I’m impressed with screenwriter Gustin Nash, who is also responsible for the sublime “Charlie Bartlett” a couple of years ago.

The casting was superb. Michael Cera nails the part. Steve Buscemi? Ray Liotta? Fred Willard on shrooms? Rockin’.

If you haven’t yet met Nick Twisp, the 14-year-old protagonist of “Youth in Revolt,” I highly recommend you get to a bookstore or library and pick up a copy. It used to be an obscure thing to find, but with a movie out, it’s probably a lot easier to get a hold of. I snickered at “Confederacy of Dunces,” but SNORTED with “Revolt.” Many times over.

Laugh out loud expel liquid through your nose funny, people.

On top of the movie and the company, I had a really amazing texting session with a very dear one and that helped to calm me, too. Temporarily. Which I’ll take.

Yes, I know this is a long post, but seriously…can you really be surprised? You’re at MY blog, after all. Maybe it’ll help you to know that this was originally supposed to be two posts. Nah, probably not.

Gonna wrap up with the doctor updates. This morning, I went in for blood (and pee) tests. First step in correcting my medications. It occurred to me, while peeing in a little cup and trying to keep my guggenheimer from actually dipping into my own urine, that I have NO idea how WOMEN do that shit. And I don’t want to know, either. I’m just going to assume it gets done somehow, probably by magic Urine Elves or something.

I go back Friday morning for my follow-up, after my blood test results are in. We’ll make adjustments from there. For now, I’m supposed to test my sugar FOUR times a day. Ugh. Before each of my three meals (oh yeah, I’m suppose to eat three times a day), and then two hours after dinner. And I’m off long-acting insulin and one of my diabetes pills till then, too. Which is good, because I’ve already been doing that. Something about crashing twice in a week has made me pretty skittish about taking insulin before bedtime.

Odd part about that is – much as I fantasize about blinking out of existence with nary a POPping sound – I actually fear NOT waking up. I can’t say I’m happy to be alive, but I CAN say I’d rather not be dead. I suppose that’s something.

I also have the Matrix Therapist Friday afternoon, first time in over a month, I think.

AND Friday morning is Mom’s surgery for her kneecap. Lots of friends to sit with me in the waiting room, even stay while I go to my own doctor appointment. Much as I’d rather be at the hospital the whole time, I’ve got to get MY proverbial house in order so I can take care of Mom. So I’ll keep my appointments.

Yeah, another (of many) lessons I’m learning lately: ask for help and don’t hesitate to use it when offered. That’s a biggie for me. I’m not a guy who easily admits he needs a hug, let alone help.

I’m still hurting. A lot. But it’s not quite as bad today as it was early yesterday morning when I started writing this diatribe.

Thanks to all of you for your texts, Tweets, Facebook love, emails, and phone calls. I may not be the speediest to respond, but I do see it all and appreciate it.

Now I need a nap. Mom is sleeping and I should take advantage of it.