The Forever Funk

September 13,2024

Dear Always,

Time for a tbt with yours truly! Are you ready for it? No this time I wasn’t making a Taylor Swift reference. Or was I? Just kidding, I for sure wasn’t.

I’m freaking out.

I say I don’t care but I do. I say it doesn’t bother me and that it doesn’t hurt but it does. Just like I cracked all those jokes and made all the valid points about the surgery before I actually had it and now that I’ve had it (the port placement) even though I know that it’s helpful and I needed it… I’m having panic attacks nearly everyday again.

I wrote something the other day while trying to focus on my book here let me share: “It’s just a funk they tell her as she contemplates what it’d take to kiss death again as he was her one sense of peace. “How could I keep going?” She asked the girl in the mirror. “It’s all so much.” She whispered as his hands caresses her body assuring eternal safety in his embrace. “But they need me…” She mutters.

I don’t know that I ever told anyone just how often I referred to you as my angel of death. It seems counterintuitive I know. But I kissed your lips in a dream, though I was confident that was my reality. And my family was fighting to keep me alive. Fast forward… The next time I kissed you, the next time I felt you, I was laying in a hospital bed, fighting for my life again, though you told me that I had more to live for. So you are my angel of death but in that you are my angel of life.

Without death there is no life, right? Maybe it makes no sense to anyone else… Maybe it only makes sense to me, but please? I sleep better knowing you’ll visit me in my dreams, knowing you’ll kiss me one more time? Even if it kills me. You’re mine. And I’m yours. Forever, in every life time, every dimension. I trust we’ll find each other.

I suppose this time of year causes the mind to overflow… That and to be completely honest looking at things, and memories with a clearer lense? Well, it’s a bit shaking to see how truly messed up your brain can be when you aren’t getting the things you need (health wise). I mean all these years… jeeze. I’ve seen other chronically ill creators talk about the fear/anxiety of getting better well not better… but to a baseline. And I knew it was a real thing, I was terrified of it before it ever even became close to happening… And now here it is, in arms reach?

One of the things I wanted most, to live a life that was fufiling. Yet, I’m over here shaking in my boots at the thought of it? What do you mean I don’t have to go to the doctors all the time? The most regular appointments I have are infusions? BUT! What about this? Or this? Or this? Then anyone who means well is going to combat with oh gods got it or you look amazing! Or something like give it to god? Bro… if I knew how to just hand it over and not take it back don’t you think I would? Don’t you think I’ve tried that?

I think that’s what I hate the most about my roots. I know what I should be doing… but it doesn’t feel like anyone understands just how hard that is? I know people do understand. It’s just frustrating at times because I want nothing more than to be able to give it all to him like I would when I was a child. Hand it all over, give him the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the misery! But it’s not as simple as they want to potray it? Or am I just that jaded now?

There’s a story in the bible that I’ve yet to touch again. (Sorry I know this letter has been all over the place, I just have a lot on my mind and you feel like the easiest person in the universe to talk to about all of it. Even if I don’t know you lol.) Jonah. The story of Jonah. I think I might have deleted the post when I went through on my most recent revamp. But I had a cat, who was named after Jonah the Runaway prophit in the bible.

You’re probably thinking why would you do that? Well, I didn’t actually name him, my dad did. It was because we were going through the book of Jonah in sunday school and this little kitten showed up one day… well, he was a runner. Wild. And he was never really fully “civilized” as I liked to call it. Every year, until he was about seven, he would sneak outside and get freaked out so bad that either I would have to sit patientently and wait for him to come close enough for me to catch him, or we’d have to trap him. But 99% of the time I was the one who was able to catch him.

Until one day he went out and came back in with no problem. He always knew he had a home with me. He would always come to me directly. Back in the days when he was under the house hiding, I would sit with a book, or my laptop, cans of food. He was for sure where I learned patience (though I’m still pretty impatint when it comes to some things) but he wasn’t feral, or a lost cause. He was timid. I remember so many times my parents would give up hope and be like he’s probably not coming home (he also had health problems) but I knew he wasn’t a lost cause! Sometimes I would feel that way too…(I was ten when I first found him). But he’d always come to me. In his time.

In his time he learned that he could always come back home. I was thinking about this the other day. Jonah from the bible eventually did what god told him, but only after the storm and all the other things? Don’t quote me on this, like I said it’s been a while. But we always joked that my Jonah and Jonah from the bible were one in the same because of the runaway thing, I’m probably reading to much into a joke but I don’t think it’s the running…

My Jonah was used to teach me quiet a few lessons that were key in my spiritual life. And Jonah was sent to Niniva? (Again please do not quote me on this) To have them repent… and essentially teach them.

I had some of my best and worst times with Jonah. Forever will I stand by the fact that animals are to pure for this world and that we don’t deserve them. Though I never realized how much I learned from one little beautiful kitten with planets for eyes that I met one day when I was ten years old. A kitten who would test my skillset to the max. And leave me questioning everything I’ve ever known when he left in March.

To wrap it all up… I don’t know that it’s just a funk. Maybe my brain is just in love with something different? It’s not to say that I don’t love life… but adjustment periods are difficult and hope is hard to find. But it does exist? I think? I mean kittens are cute and so are puppies and cotton candy skies.

XOXO Forever