Carnivore Dreams – Divorced

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Grief. I always thought (or thought I knew) it took about two years to (not get over) but get used to a death. Or other stressful situations.

I might have been wrong.

I think it takes a lot longer to get over divorce because these horrible people live on instead of (you or them) being mercifully DEAD, and you have to deal with either yours or their betrayal, the leftover anger that hovers over a life that doesn’t happen with a death. Yes, there are things unfinished–especially in sudden death–like when my mother died. But rarely is there the type of anger and betrayal that lingers after divorce.

I haven’t been “divorced” in the traditional sense, either, and yet I’m fairly certain of which I speak, since I’ve ended relationships in the past and can imagine a divorce is like that times ten.

But in the last four/five years, I’ve been divorced from my identify, my writing career, and even from my job/identify as professor at the university. I’ve been “divorced” from dozens of people as well — as a result. Most of them acquaintances but some a big part of my life. And of those, four of them were part of my intimate support system. Luckily for me, none were in my immediate family, and I didn’t lose my closest friend.

And I’ve made some new friends — neighbors and bloggers.

But I was wondering today if I would feel as betrayed as I do by these people if I were a floor finisher or an electrician–even if politics has affected other walks of life–like restaurants–I’m just not sure I’d feel quite like I do in any other walk of life. But I’m a writer.

Or I was.

For a writer to be silenced would be like a singer being muzzled. Or perhaps having their vocal cords ripped out. Those people I thought were so close never could have been–they couldn’t have known me or cared about me–they believe it’s ok to censor people and they should be arbiters of Truth. Like 1984. It has come as quite a shock since I am of the “I don’t agree with a word you say, but I’ll fight to the death for your right to say it” school.

That no longer exists and, in some ways, perhaps neither do I. Or I’m not sure anymore quite how I exist or how to reinvent myself. Or, no, that’s not quite it– I have a slight idea how I might do that if I could get some emotional wherewithal back.

But I’ve been in the middle of a massive “divorce.” Even when you think it’s for the best, the world is till upside down.

And my father is in the hospital again. I’m exhausted and sick of talking to doctors and my father needs a shitload of electronic devices: oxygen machines, ventilators, nebulizers, a heart monitor for his pace-maker– that’s also hooked to the internet and monitors that equipment. So to prepare for (I hope not a nuclear bomb–but most of the “prepping” I have to do for extended power outages or supply chain issues is close to the same), I’ve been ordering back-up generators and gas a propane, we might get an extra propane pig out here — powdered versions of protein drinks, powdered milk, eggs, butter, a little survival food, frozen meat, to name just a bit of what I’m stocking –medications (not sure how he’d get along without Parkinson’s drugs at least), or me without a thyroid pill), stocking up not just the basement but the travel trailer–the camp in the UP is sounding better all the time.

But my kids are coming this weekend for my birthday. I should be getting ready, cleaning house, washing sheets, and instead I’m sitting in hospitals again. Just when I’d actually begun revision on my book. (My reinvention of myself involved self-publishing my memoir/woodfire cookbook, and then finding a commercial agent (as opposed to the literary field I’ve been divorced from) and trying to publish a book that’s at least more commercial — all time/dream films/books are somewhat literary because they have complex structures. But that plan entails at least some energy.

They cut me back on my thyroid dose which seems to have helped heart pounding and headaches, but I gained weight immediately and I’m tired. So might need to up that dose in between. I think I’ll take half a pill twice/week here to get me up to 128.

I’m not feeling real chipper here, and now as I write this, I hear these idiots are pushing for a no-fly zone over Ukraine. Good Lord. I guess I better up the plan to nuclear bomb preparations. What assholes these people are.

8 thoughts on “Carnivore Dreams – Divorced

  1. Remember back when we were kids, where you could differ greatly on politics and still be friends? When it was cool not to talk about what was going on in Washington? When the people on both sides of the political divide acttually had lives and interests, and were fun to talk to because you didn’t bring up politics? When your employer was more concerned that you did your civic duty and voted on election day and didn’t give a hoot about who you voted for? Wouldn’t it be great to go back to those days and to leave the shoving matches to the 5% of the population that has nothing better to do than argue politics for hours on end?

    Just thought I’d ask…

    1. By the way, I’m sorry about your father. Happy birthday sometime later this month (mine’s the 25th)!

      We’re also making preparations for when whoever’s using Biden as a puppet decides on a final coup de grace that will make our lives not worth living.

    2. Yeah, it was great. Really great. I would love to go back to my childhood. Although I wonder sometimes if our being quiet and under-estimating them led to where we are now. It’s partly me, I know. I’m getting intolerant of them, though I’d never censor them (hide from them maybe–God, I’d love to get away from them). It’s so hard to understand how people can support this totalitarian crap. But it’s THEM who politicized everything from sports to going to the bathroom and with whom. Seems like no way out of this now and it’s so depressing. I’ll need to read a LOT of your posts once I get my dad out of the joint. 🙂

  2. Hi John. Yeah, I’m just having a mini-melt-down. Just get pretty tired out. And then we have these idiots. What kind of prep are you doing? Really appreciate hearing. Thanks for the birthday wishes. 13th is mine. Happy birthday to you!!

  3. A divorce of any flavor is a death. Any kind of death takes time to process and grieve.

    My dad is 89; he has always been as healthy as a horse and as active as can be. He recently gave himself a hernia lifting something too heavy. During his pre-op, the EKG picked up something weird. A cardiologist diagnosed him with A-fib, and he will have to go through a bunch of uncomfortable testing including a nuclear stress test, which I can’t imagine will be comfortable with a hernia.

    I can’t help but wonder if the vax played any role. Coincidentally, his first wife had a cerebral thrombosis the day after getting boosted. The clot was the size of a pinky finger. She survived (including the two strokes she suffered during surgery), but will never live independently again. My poor sister.

    Anyway, we’re grieving our own losses here.

    Happy birthday to all the March babies! My husband’s birthday is the 31; his grandfather’s was the 16th, and his dad’s was the 1st. A fertile month!

  4. See, I couldn’t remember if I replied to this and I didn’t! Getting Dad home tomorrow, but he looks very tired.
    Living on borrowed time, I think. Wow on your dad! Them are some pretty good genes! But yeah, these vaccines are worrisome. Gees on those blood clots. Happy birthday to your March babies!

  5. Happy Birthday to you,Lynn. I understand you have your hands full. But hats off to the way you’re managing all of it. Talking about divorce, I’ve divorced a number of acquaintances and distance family for the purpose of my sanity and I’m fine with it. After all you have one life and you can’t keep everybody happy; so it’s best not to try.

  6. Thanks, Smitha. I haven’t been reading much of your work lately. Right now, I’m trying to decide if I transfer my dad to another hospital since he’s not doing well and our local one is so abysmal. But yes, I guess, it’s sort of life a divorce when you have to separate from people. A death would be easier. But in my case, it’s been necessary. I can and did wish them well, but we see the world totally differently. So it had to happen. It’s sad and the key is to be able to let go of it, of course. I do follow some of your travels. It sounds lovely compared to my prison here. 🙂 I can live vicariously. Happy Monday. Thanks for thinking of me.

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