Tired of the Heavy Days

I'm trying to look for silver linings. I really am. I'm just not doing a super amazing job at it. I want to say they're simply aren't there, but it's probably a vision problem.

The world -- I think there are enough voices yammering on about that that I don't need to add my own to it. But it's super hard not to despair -- to look at the things going on (or at least the voices that are shouting the loudest) and wonder what on earth is going to be the future available to my kids. And maybe the point is that there won't be one. I joked -- except neither of us were really joking -- with a friend that we were hoping for the giant trumpet in the sky for the 2020 elections.

Of course, it has to get even worse before we get there.

Living through the end times has never been on my bucket list.

I can pull back, some, and disconnect from the insanity of culture. Except that then I'm smack dab in the middle of family trauma. My sister's 90 day post treatment PET didn't really show the "cure" we were hoping for. So they'll do another in August - but a different test last week showed active cancer so really, we know it's still there. And we know they threw everything they had at it in the fall and that leaves...what? Toss in the struggle she's having at her job and her mental illness and honestly I'm just waiting to discover that she's simply ended it all. We've been here before with her - not for the same reasons, obviously, but that space of waiting, scared to breathe too deeply lest you tip a balance too far in the wrong direction. 

It's a horrible place to live.

My dad's not doing well. Health wise, he's fine. Mentally, he just seems exhausted with everything. And he misses Mom. And for Dad to SAY he misses Mom? That's unheard of. Dad doesn't name emotions. Ever. So if he's doing poorly enough that he'll talk to me about how he feels, I know he's doing very poorly indeed.

And I don't know how to help. Or what to do. 

Hubby's mom and dad are starting to show their ages as well. And as much as I have always been willing to have one or both of my parents come live with us if needed, the prospect of making that same offer to his folks makes my blood run cold. We'd do. Of course we would. But neither of us want to. Right now, they wouldn't want us to -- but if some of the difficulty finding words and responding properly to questions that his dad is having blooms into the dementia that his family seems prone to, it may not be a choice.

It's days like this -- weeks ? months? -- that I understand the idea behind ostriches. But I suspect all burying my head in the sand would accomplish is making it harder for me to breathe.