13 gods hate me, blind gramma, strong women, new moon magic

07-19-04 Mayatime: 12.19.11.8.3 8 Akbal 6 Xul (portal)

I have this sneaking suspicion that the gods hate me. All right, that’s negative thinking and I’m trying to banish that. The gods LOVE ME so much they’ve added another fun test to make me even stronger and more like them. That’s the way to look at it.Today is 8 Akbal, 8 Darkness. I am a child of darkness, a 4 Akbal baby. Seems appropriate that today I write about my new test, my new bit of learning. Last night my grandma, you know, the one who’s sharp as a tack, told me she’s got macular degeneration. That’s when you go blind from the center out. It’s like reverse tunnel vision. You can only see things around the edges, and that black center keeps growing. And it’s genetic too. What a cocktail I have in my DNA spirals. Another reason not to have children.

Yesterday was Beth’s baby shower so I spent a fun afternoon taking digital photos of the event and today I cropped and re-colored them so I can give her a digital album. It was a pretty good day, and then I went to Grandma’s for dinner. My mom was telling me how much my father’s Acricept (however it’s spelled) costs (over $120 for 30 days supply but the insurance paid for part) and Grandma hands me a package and says “this is my new medication” and while I’m looking at it, trying to figure out what it is, she says “I have macular degeneration” (only she calls it “immaculate degeneration” for some reason–her friend Jenny has it too). She was very calm about the whole thing.

I asked her about driving, and she said Jenny drove for six years after she was diagnosed (she’s had it for 12 years) and my grandma was going to give up driving when she was 92 anyway.

I know the first Reiki principle: “just for today, do not worry” but how can I not worry when both my dad and grandma are still driving? In my heart I know they are still capable, but there’s always that core of fear. I know I don’t trust the universe enough. I can only put so many bubbles of white light and clear light and silver-blue-violet light around them for protection.

I am just so sad. I feel so beaten down. It’s ridiculous, I know. Grandma can still see, Dad still knows who I am. I was up until 2 a.m. crying last night (and got woken up at 6 when Will got up, and at 7 when he went to work, and at 9 when his sister called to tell me Godsmack’s coming with Metallica in October to Boston) so I got little sleep.

Willy pointed out that the women of my family are strong. I’ve already talked about Aunt Bert, how she took care of her invalid husband for over ten years, did all her own yard work and shoveling and then walked 5 miles for fun after dinner. My grandmother took care of her mother when she was blind (glaucoma) and unable to walk (broken hip) for many years, and then took care of her husband at home when he had cancer (with the help of Hospice).

And if this sucks for me, think of my poor mother–it’s her husband and mother that are affected.I am hoping that my grandmother’s disease will progress slowly and she will be able to live alone (well, alone in her apartment–the senior citizens there are never really ALONE like Aunt Bert is) for a long time. I don’t know what will happen with my father. I envision selling my house and my mom’s house and buying a large house and living in a 3-generation 5-person commune. I guess I’d have to learn to stay dressed all day again–which I hate.

My dad is still mostly himself, nothing new to report. Someone from Alaska who posts to the Yahoo AD group said her father is very lovable, and has no sense of time–he thinks he’s in Alaska for a visit and has only been there 2 weeks when it’s been months. My father’s always been a nice easygoing guy. Dare I hope he will stay that way, like this lady’s father?

I read something else cool on that group. I told Will about it and he agreed that it would work. This woman’s father refused to give up driving. So she took his car keys and filed down the ignition key so it wouldn’t work. (She kept a good set.) When the key didn’t work, she said, “If I can get the car to start, I will drive” and of course switched keys and the car started fine. It only took a few days for him to stop trying to drive. Very clever, no confrontation, no loss of face. Obviously if he can’t get the key to work, he can’t drive. Problem solved.

If I can’t stop being so sad, I am going to have to go to the doctor and get put on anti depressants. I wonder if there’s one whose side affect is loss of appetite or weight loss? I won’t take one that makes me gain weight. I feel so muzzy in the head, “mimsy in the borogrove”, when I cry all the time. It makes me stupid. I can’t write when I’m stupid, and writing is what makes me happy. I am unmotivated to exercise, or even to work on this journal or my web site or apply for jobs.

I feel so, old, used up, and it doesn’t help that due to reduced financial circumstances I couldn’t celebrate my birthday. Will bought me an Isis oracle on sale for $8 (which I picked out) and I got myself the Cthulhu book, Beth took me to the $5 movies, and my parents took me to dinner. Will’s sister Sue gave me a fart card saying I was an old fart. My astrologer friend Janet Booth sent me a nice birthday card with a note about my dad’s condition. A couple of on-line cards, that’s it.

I saw my college friend Michele this weekend; she had a tag sale. There is a job opening where her husband Pat works. It’s not a buying job (although sourcing is part of it). I applied this morning. Hey, maybe knowing Pat will help me get in the door. Will really wants to work there, if I can get a job there maybe I can get him one too. Pat makes bucoup bucks as a programmer. Actually the building is right next to where Will works now. It’s an internet company which sells DVD and music CDs.

I’m feeling terribly selfish. Will tried to remind me that he never knew his dad, that my dad is still walking around, even if it is at reduced capacity. That his most beloved Grandma Ag lived in Florida and Michigan and he didn’t see her at all between when he was about 8 and 25, and then he saw her only twice before she died. (That was his sucky birthday in 2000–I was released from my Hell job on his b-day and his Aggy died 2 days later.) He had a Wallingford grandma (Neena) who died right after we got married. (I didn’t have 2 grandmas, of course, I had Grandma & Aunt Bert. And Big Nonnie, who was my mother’s maternal grandma, and Big Poppy who was my mother’s paternal grandfather.) I did not want to hear his arguments, his problems. I know that complaining to him just makes him feel bad or angry or both. There is nothing he can do to help me. There is nothing anyone can do to help me–except publish my writing for gobs of money and/or give me a job making gobs of money so I can take care of all the expenses for these various ill relatives of mine. Or give Will a programming or gaming job making gobs of money so he can take care of me and my family. I know lately he’s been really glad he married me. Could you hear the sarcasm there?

I have been doing Jan Spiller’s New Moon Astrology stuff since last September and this New Moon on Saturday was part of my Grand Daddy Power period so I got to make extra requests to the universe. I’ve had some luck with her methods and I am trying to stay positive, although I feel so heavy (mentally & physically) and like I’m caught in mud that it’s difficult.

Some good news-Beth wants me to go into the delivery room with her and do reflexology on her while she’s in labor. I am terrified of course. I don’t want to watch the child come into the world and I know they will make me. That is more information than I need to have about my best friend! It’s one thing to change into bathing suits together at the gym and another to see a kid popping out. I want to stay close to her despite her new child and if this is what I have to do, I will do it. She also wants me to teach the girl how to read. I think this is premature since she’s not even born yet! (1561)