Yesterday I felt like giving up. It can feel like swimming upstream, maintaining a good attitude about how weird I am. It can be hard having different needs and getting misunderstood all the time. Misread motivations. I felt done with people.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a hermit. I daydreamed about living alone on a green hill in a small wooden shack. I think in this daydream I was kind of a man–I had never heard of a lady hermit.
I really wanted to be alone. Later I saw part of a kung fu movie and saw a man living alone in a shack, and it seemed deliciously familiar to me, although I am not a kung fu master. A simple life, quiet, me and the wind.
Where did my fantasy disappear to? I have too many friends now, spread thin, and people come and go all the time. But secretly I have another life inside me, the imagined life.
We picked someone up last night. We were given the wrong address. I knew it was wrong too because I told Ming googlemaps was showing the dot in the middle of the street. The address did not exist.
When we finally found him, the guy smelled strongly of weed, and I was annoyed. If you’re too high to txt your correct address or have a proper conversation with Ming about directions to your apartment, maybe you shouldn’t get so high.
Being lost and all that added a lot of time to our trip. So this morning, up at 4, I would ask my body to do things, and it wouldn’t obey. “You haven’t taken care of me, so I won’t do what you say,” my body told me.
Luckily helpers came at 9. They did a lot of work, making vegan sandwiches, dicing avocados, carrying stuff, washing celery and carrots.
I entrusted some cute little pink scissors to my friend K and asked her to snip open the packages right before lunchtime. I also entrusted her with the gluten-free bread.
I still feel like giving up. But I never give up. I’ll rest. Later when Ming returns, we need to shop again with the donated Walmart cards, ingredients for the vegan risotto a new walker is cooking tomorrow in the Goddess Temple guesthouse.
“Just bear with me, about this,” I told Ming. I’m single-minded about replenishing the snack boxes. In past years I didn’t do well with that, so I’m obsessed with doing well now. And bringing out toilet paper for the portapotties. And do they have enough whatever.
“I’m done being a person,” I told Ming. “I tried really hard for 42 years, and it didn’t work out.” He was falling asleep. But when I woke up in the morning, I was still a person.