Well, I know y'all are getting sick of surveys and quizzes and whatnot... or maybe you prefer those, in which case hang on and I'll get back to that eventually. But I've had a weird couple of days, and a weird day today in particular, and I thought I'd write it down and see what I thought about it then.
The most pressing matter is that I've been sick. It started Sunday night (como siempre!) with a sore throat, but then I woke up sometime in the night freezing, just completely freezing, and with wildly aching legs. So I got up and took some medicine, and put on three pairs of pants and three sweatshirts, turned the heat up, and huddled under two blankets until I finally fell asleep.
Monday morning, as you might expect, was not the most fun time ever. I was feeling really determined to go to work, though, because we have a show this week, so I dragged myself there. But I was really spaced out the whole time, and really did next to nothing. Todd even came into my office and said to stay home on Tuesday if I felt horrible. So... I did. Even though Tuesday is opening night and I really wanted to be there. I decided I would sleep awhile and try to go in for the afternoon. I did; in fact, I rode the bus all the way there, and then felt so yucky and disoriented that I turned around and came right back. That was hard for me. I realized I feel inordinately insecure about my work. I never think I'm doing enough/a good enough job, and therefore I feel called upon to make up for it by extending myself whenever I get the opportunity to do so. It's really strange... I mean, a strange feeling. I think I became more aware of it because I was reading this book my mom got me called Radical Acceptance (book post to follow! :) ), which is basically about using Buddhist principles and meditation practices to open yourself to awareness and acceptance of everything you feel. So I was more conscious of what is going on beneath the surface, and I realized I just have this frantic feeling about work sometimes, like I'm going to be caught as a not-good employee and thrown out. Kind of like the feeling I used to have as a student, in fact. Or the feeling I sometimes have in my personal relationships, even, that if people know/understand such and such about me, or see that I feel this or that, they won't like me anymore. I also tend to think that sickness somehow says something bad about me... maybe because there have been times when I welcomed it so that I could rest. I think it's also because my mom used to get mad at me when I was sick, because she was frustrated at not being able to "fix" me.
It was fascinating, in this book, when the author talked about how all the feelings we hate about ourselves, all the petty things and the weird things and the jealousy (spelling?) and anger, aren't signs that we're spiritually deficient or missing the boat or something. It was a new idea for me to regard feelings in general as not "belonging to" or "becoming" me, but rather something experiential that I move through. Of course, then there's the whole "I" thing, the whole not having a self thing, which I have heard plenty of times, but I'm not sure I get it. Does it relate to the times when I have been looking at something, a very ordinary thing like my hands or whatever, and suddenly my perspective shifts, and there's a voice saying, "I'm alive," and it both is and isn't me? It used to happen to me fairly often as a child... less so now, but maybe different things happen now.
Anyway, so this morning as I was debating whether or not to get out of bed and go to work this morning, there was a moment of clarity when I realized there really was no right or wrong decision. It may sound simple, but it took a lot for me to see that! Or, it didn't really, it just happened. But it hadn't really happened in this matter before. So, I decided to stay home, and it felt very kind, to me. A kind thing to do for myself. I went back to sleep, and was awakened close to noon by a phone call from my dad.
I had been reminded yesterday of the CDs I made for him for his birthday, and called to ask if he'd gotten them, and he called to say he had, and he really liked them. And also to tell me that my grandma (his mom, will be 90 April 15th) is now in a nursing home and has dementia, and that my aunt Lisa (his sister, substantially younger than he, adopted from Korea) has had an operation on her spine for some kind of tumors. He also said that my aunt Susan (also adopted from Korea, and, I think, the youngest) is handling everything well, meeting with lawyers and everything. She's been taking care of my grandmother this whole time, in fact. It's amazing, because it would be for most people, I guess, but also because Susan is mentally ill. Also, his older brother Richard (12 years older, in fact) is having some trouble with his sciatic nerve. But apparently other than that he's ok.
And then he asked me if I wanted a laptop for grad school, which I think is incredibly generous of him. And then he had to get off the phone and get ready for work. (He works evenings, as a nurse's aide, and his floor is mostly patients with dementia.) So he did.
I feel confused about all of this information. I did actually hear a brief outline of it from my mom on the answering machine, before, but I just got all the details. I don't know what to think. I haven't really been close to my grandma in years, though I liked her very much as a child. I feel guilty that I didn't make more of an effort to stay close to her. And I wish I had more time to get her stories. I know she was an actress and a storyteller, like me. I know my father was very ambivalent about her, probably still is. He got the impression from her that a man was a bad thing to be, and that's a rather hard thing to put aside. And my aunt Lisa was always my favorite. When I was a child, she seemed like a dazzling personage. And last summer she was very kind to me when I needed a place to stay in NY. And this summer she came to see my play. But she seemed... different. Distractable. Ill. Old. On the phone, her voice sounded like my grandma's, actually.
Memories about each of them:
Grandma: She promised one year to take me to Wendy's for my birthday, but for some reason she couldn't. But for years she remembered that she owed me a trip to Wendy's. She got on well with my other grandma, and they did a big puzzle of the Smithsonian Christmas tree together. She sent me a tape about boxes tied with silver ribbon, and not dying with the music still in you. I often did not know how I was supposed to relate with her. She got me a beautiful nativity when I was small, piece by piece. She seemed to care a lot about making herself available to me, if I needed help or anything. I wondered if she was remembering her own life as a young woman, but I don't know. She came up for my graduations, from high school and college.
Aunt Lisa: She seemed like the coolest person ever. When we went down to Florida for my grandpa's funeral, she gave me an anklet. I treasured it and kept it on until it broke. She always wanted me to visit her in NYC by myself, but my mom said no. She was sort of wild and had boyfriends and was thin and pretty. She sent me pictures from Italy. I like her boyfriend now, Martin, and I hope he does well with all of this. She seemed less and less shiny every time I saw her, lately, but always kind to me.
Uncle Richard: He was sort of a little scary, and said things that hurt my feelings, like calling me slowpoke and laughing when I was nervous about the cows in the meadow, but I knew he liked me. He used to come up every year for the Fair, and I liked that. He would always get a shirt, and that's why I started to get them, too. He was big, and he would pick me up and say, "I know you. I know you." At the time I knew it was supposed to be special but I didn't know why. But the best story about Uncle Richard was how we went to Disney World together, and he was late coming out of the Mickey section, and we were waiting for him in the little train, and he came out all breathless and said that Mickey had called him back, and asked about me, and given him Mickey Mouse ears to give to me. That was the best. I felt so special.
Aunt Susan: I was a bit nervous around her for a long time, but very curious once I realized she was sick. She is a great artist, I mean truly excellent, but she hasn't done art in a long time. She grins and laughs and talks to herself, and engages in odd behavior around the house, but apparently she can keep it together in front of strangers. Once, they tried to have her in an institution and she escaped and walked home! It was a long way, too. She always calls me "Beck." Her Korean name was Rosanhi. I thought that was just beautiful and fascinating as a child, and I named a doll I had after her. I still think it's beautiful.
Well, that's all for now. That side of my family hasn't been very close for awhile, really. So, if you pray, say some prayers for the Fullans, and if not, just wish us all well.
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