This post is personal, not political. It’s little if any more than me doing my emotional laundry. Since I haven’t gone to church in years Sunday morning is a good time for it. Those of you who aren’t sports fans can maybe understand why so many of us say thank god for the NFL. But that’s months away. And BTW for those of you following Sealed With a Kiss, I posted another chapter yesterday.
When I was a psychotherapist long ago I often had to deal with suicides, or those that might be. There are all kinds of things you look at to determine lethality. And one of the worst is anniversary dates of deaths, divorces, and so on. The third Tuesday in May it will be a year since my former old lady told me she was going to divorce me. That by itself might not be such a big deal if I were a completely different kind of man or if I had found somebody else by now. But i’m not and I haven’t.
Here are two other things in assessing lethality: Chronic depression, which I’ve always had, and a great deal of hostility, I have always had. This is a highly lethal combination, and when I had a client like this I made a mental note to call them on early on that day just in case, talk to them for five minutes, and judge by their tone, not content, of what they say. I’ll never know if I saved any lives that way, but maybe I did. Most therapists are never close to giving enough of a shit to do that on their day off.
But i’m no suicide risk because of my narcissism. That trumps those three others. But I feel like on that day I need to do something. And from that came a consideration of rituals and tradition and their function in the human mind. Some are formal, some personal. Some are at least somewhat religious, some are purely secular, as is mine.
The best I could do is to decide to fast from sunup to sundown, close the blinds and keep it dark all day, listen to George Harrison, and meditate on the transience of all things. Tout des choses doit passer. All things must pass. It’s more awkward in French but much prettier. This is lame but it’s the best I can do. Maybe it will take the worst part out of the bite of that awful day. It does not help that she and I are now on as good terms as we could expect. We spent most of Saturday together and we both agreed that I have to stop ending up in the hospital, or sometime they may decide to stick me in the nuthouse and since she is no longer my next of kin she wont be able to protect me.
The problem is that both times I was in hospital the last ten months I was so sick I very nearly died, and idk how to not be sick any more than i’m already doing any more than there’s any way to teach somebody how not to fumble a football. It’s the nature of divorce to see things like this. Right now the world outside is not merely inimical but utterly hostile. So I have to stay inside as much as I can. Since I am privileged enough not to have to work I can organize things so I didn’t have to go anywhere more than once a month. But after a week i’d be crazy anyway.
Those of you who know anything about Mark Twain know I borrowed part of the title of one of his works, and why not? It’s catchy.
It’s getting close to elite eight time and I guess i’ll stop.
BTW, can any of you computer geniuses tell me how to get a picture from my tracphone onto WordPress and Facebook as my profile pic? Pretend I can barely use a computer, which is close to the truth. Auf Wiedersehn.