I. I almost didn’t make it for my first day because I am in the midst of a family emergency that meant I tossed some things in a bag and Ubered to Kitchener from London at 3 in the morning and *of course I forgot my laptop charger*. Once I did everything I could do here to be helpful and get the family emergency under some semblance of manageable, I called around to see if anyone had the correct charger, but it was already 7 p.m. by then, and my only hope was Best Buy, which was closing at 8. Into another Uber went I because I have to have this laptop charged up to run my business AND do day one of the blog along and I’m going to be here in Kitchener until sometime tomorrow.
II. On my way home, I looked at the packaging and thought “Oh, wait…this is the wrong charger and felt utterly deflated and full of OMGDOOM but it works fine. It has a different look to the one I was using, but it is FINE so I’m all charged up and oh hey HI. Day one of the blog along is getting done under the wire.
III. GG went off his meds again, so that’s what I’m navigating. He is fine with me sharing this because he gets that the Internet is my home town and you are all my fam and you love him, too. This break has been costly because you know what happens when people lose touch with reality, right? They don’t pay their rent. So, bank of mom had to crack open the vault and that has been a bit OMG DOOM given the time of year.
By next month I’ll be fine AND my peeps are showing up in small and large ways, so truthfully, I’m fine now, and so is he.
We’re going to be okay.
IV. Mental health in Canada is such, though, that a schizophrenic can skip FOUR MONTHS worth of his anti-psychotic injections and two weeks of the other meds he’s supposed to be taking and no one seems to fucking notice and this infuriates me. It is known that keeping a person with psychosis on their meds is the most challenging part of this kind of diagnosis. It would be nice if the system helped that happen, but no.
We won’t even talk about the ex that actually lives here who promised he’d been checking in but stopped months ago because I DON’T KNOW WHY MEN?
I am bitter.
V. I am having my annual Pay What You Can sale. Here is the email. It ends on September 5th, so if there are classes in my archives that you’d like to get in on, you’re in luck! And also this will help with the cracking open of the bank of mom + the insane cost of Ubering from Kitchener to London. Thank you in advance.
VI. I arrived here at about 4:30 a.m., sat up with GG till 5:30, and then caught a little snooze ’till ten. Flew into action getting programs up for September 1st, wrote up the PWYC sale stuff, touched base with everyone that needed to know what was going on, got GG off to the pharmacy to pick up meds and on the phone with the doctor to schedule his injection, and then dug the kitchen and dining room out of the depression nest that it has become in my absence.
Dishes are always the hardest part of all this because it’s hundreds of crusty things that need to be soaked and done in stages.
It’s meditative, though, and it gives me a sense of having something to do in face of the most powerless I’ve ever felt in my life.
VII. GG is doing much, much better already with meds on board and can face what’s left to do to dig himself out. His place is secured. He is employed. He is going to work tomorrow, and once I get my ass home, I will, too, but first I’m going to curl up in bed with the dogs and a friend who will pet my hair and tell me I’m amazing and have a little cry, because whoa.
VIII. Can we talk about how much more important it is to get your hair pet and hear how amazing you are vs. getting laid anymore?? I know the latter is important, but the former is priceless, and it’s all I want. For now. The rest – sex, romance, coupling up, partnering and being partnered etc. feels too fraught and complicated and full of fang and claw and blood and dragons.
IX. Be careful how you bend me.
X. Image of GG for tax. This is his favourite photo of himself, which I took. It was one of those glorious evenings. There was a gorgeous backyard fire, and I talked about how firewood is stored sunlight and how that’s why so many religions have fire festivals – it’s all sun worship and his first response was to scoff and tell me I was wrong (because that is what sons do with their moms before they grow up a little) and then he stopped mid-sentence and made the “MIND BLOWN” face, sound and hand gestures because he realized that I was absolutely spot on.
His sheepish and admiring smile was one of the best things ever.
When they figure out that they got their genius from you as much as their brokenness, the real friendship between parent and child can begin.
P.S. Everything is going to be okay.