58 and 11

As I write this, it's mid September.  Long time readers know that I hate September more than Green Day does.  I was thrown out from my family very late August (that counts), I last saw Lisa Empanada in September, and she died Sept 17.  Then there was the funeral. All of these events were in 2013: eleven years ago.  But there's another reason I hate September that repeats every year so far- my birthday, which this year fell on a Friday.  Friday the 13th.  Insert joke here.  Oh, in case you're interested, I was born on a Tuesday, not Friday, despite my bad luck.  

Friday, September 13, 2024

I'm now 58, a fact I don't hide.  So many don't get this far (Lisa was 52.)  I don't deserve to be this age.  I planned to exit quietly when I turned 50, and a few times before that (like when I was 24.) I absolutely wanted to drink myself to death before I was thirty.  

What have I accomplished this past year?

Absolutely nothing.  

I am still at the exact same point in my PhD studies now as I was at this time last year (I wrote about that here.)  In fact, with the exception of a presentation I did on LGBTQ history at Penn State, I haven't written anything aside from the occasional blog entry and a sparse amount in writing notebooks.  I've sat in front of my computer, staring at the IRB screen for hours, blankly.  I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, or hugging a pillow for dear life.  I no longer have hobbies.  My therapist no longer takes my insurance.  I spent Christmas night in the Emergency room in agony.  No more gall bladder.  Over $10,000 in medical debt.  A Group of coworkers turned me down for a job for which I was very qualified (and, when I re-applied after the job was re-posted, HR said I "wasn't qualified.")  Oh, and 45 has a very real chance of winning the election and implementing his fascistic "Project 2025" which will mean suffering and death for many, including people like me. (Yes, I've read the whole 900+ pages- and I urge you to do so as well.)

Ok, but as several people I know would say- let's look at the positive.  I received a fellowship which covered fall tuition.  That helped.  As a last resort, I started a GoFundMe for my debt which raised almost $5,000.  That didn't cover everything but combined with settling up payment plans, it made the medical debt almost manageable.  Using the fellowship, I was able to purchase student insurance that covers so much more than what I had previously- including dental, which means I can get long needed dental work.  I've lost over thirty pounds which put me back into pre-diabetic stage (and means I can fit in a few things again.)  I saw Wife and daughter this weekend, and we had a nice lunch.  

So it is, the positive and negative.  

I often wonder what Lisa would be like today, had she lived until now.  Would she be happy?  Would she be at peace?  What would she think of the world today, and the situation people like us face?  What  would she think of me now, and who I have become?  

Lisa and Ally (who posted this pic), undated.

Obviously, no one will ever know the answers.  Tuesday will mark eleven years since Lisa was found.  For nearly all that time, Lisa's earthly self has resided in various urns and small amounts of ash scattered at various locations.  Those who knew her can only guess, wonder, and endure.  

Eleven years.  Yes, time has assuaged some of pain.  Time does that- it's one of the few favors it allows.  There is still, and will always be, an empty part of my soul, and what is left of my heart.  That part was ripped away when she decided to die.  She died alone, as she planned, with none to stop her.  

This week, I remember Lisa, and also cope with age- something she never had to do.  

Be well.