Saturday, August 25, 2007

Much Better.

Thank you for "listening" to my self-pitying bitching. I'm better now, and marveling again at Vi, who is always so wise and no-bullshit, and how she hit it on the head. I make a lot of people uncomfortable, I think, because I am living proof that you can do everything "right" - get an education, get a good job, work hard, buy a nice home, send the kids to college, go to the gym, eat right and take your vitamins - all those virtuous behaviors of the "upper middle class" aren't a protective charm that wards off ill health and tragedy. My husband was healthy until he wasn't, until he died a slow, awful death. I was fine until my brain exploded. I was so very lucky to survive, and to survive with relatively petty after effects. But the very wise Vi nailed it - when very bad stuff happens to people who Look Like Us and Live Like Us, it penetrates the magical thinking that This Can't Happen To Us, it destroys the illusion that things like this only happen to people who somehow "deserve" it, who made poor lifestyle choices, or otherwise "brought it upon themselves." We don't admit that we think that, of course, but we do, because otherwise we'd have trouble falling asleep at night, thinking about all the random bad shit that happens, even to People Like Us, so we try to find reasons - Was he a smoker? Is there a family history of that? And yes, I do think that there is an element of that in my neighbors' lack of neighborliness. They aren't bad people, but I think my story makes them uncomfortable. I will be much better off making a fresh start somewhere else, where I am not the Plucky Widow Lady Who Survived the Brain Aneurysm and makes people who knew us Before the Shit Hit feel a little oogy.

I am stalking the delivery of Knitted Kimono, Amazon thinks it will be delivered today. We shall see. And I bought the latest Interweave Knits, I believe this is the first issue with Eunny Jang as editor? I let my subscriptions to all the knitting mags lapse years ago, I buy one off the newsstand occasionally, but I may have to re-up with IK. I must make the Minimalist Cardigan, and the Cobblestone Pullover has my son written all over it. If I find two Must Makes in any knitting magazine, that marks it as a keeper. Unlike the Vogue Knitting anniversary issue, which had nothing I could imagine making.

It's supposed to be a gray, rainy weekend, and I am thrilled. I plan to spend my day puttering, watching movies, knitting, and not thinking about work. Maybe I'll even get around to blocking a couple of things. It could happen!

3 comments:

vi said...

sad but true
i see it here with my neighbors
you need to go where you will fit in
you've grown....you are much more then you were...... now you will attract like minded people...
people that CARE about what you care about

just remember....seriously....it's all a process.....

and while eventually we all do die...( suburban americans don't want to hear that- too negative)
it's what we do with our lives and our love along the way.....
and there isn't really any right or wrong way.....it is just YOUR way or my way

take good care kid

Martha said...

Miz C,
Could you hear me saying "yes" to you from over here in the Amen corner? I did that w/your last two posts & w/ the Vi comment to your 2nd post.
Vi has so many good points - how we live our lives can be a result of what happens & what currently works for us. And folks can be afraid of what they see other folks going through & that fear causes them to look away vs. stepping up to offer assistance or empathy or tender help.
Sending you hugs & tho'ts of rain.
XOXO

Janet said...

Yeah, totally true... people want to think that "doing all the right things" puts up a magic shield or guarantees success or what have you. Whereas, it's a crap shoot when tragedies and obstacles are being handed out. It's not BAD to be educated, try to make wise decisions, etc., of ocurse, but they certainly are only *something* of a buffer against the world. And nope, people don't want to think of that.

Fresh start -- very cool.