I got discouraged–kinda weird how some little thing can set me on a bad path, and I keep going from one sad thought to the next until I’m crying as Ming drives us home. I was feeling so sad, like nothing I do matters, and why bother trying.
I was telling Ming some ideas that were really important to me. This article I read, how to help the world, values, building bridges, everything I believe about peace. How if you only talk to people who are just like you, you’ll never find out how to make the world better so people don’t need to do the jobs that hurt others.
Ming was falling asleep. We were in a parkinglot by a FedEx, and I didn’t want to get out of the minivan. I felt he didn’t care. I felt like I was wasting my breath. If my own spouse didn’t even care what I was saying, what was I doing. But I know Ming has narcolepsy and can fall asleep many times.
Earlier I read this long post on facebook, some rich guy congratulating himself for decluttering his house, getting rid of five truckloads of stuff he didn’t need anymore, and how the emotional work he was doing corresponded to this physical work.
I told Ming–you know if this guy needed some products, he could buy five truckloads in a minute. He paid an organizer to help him go through his stuff for days, and kept mentioning a game room. What’s a game room?
I was thinking how if you’re rich, you can pay people to help you–support can come from more places. The post pushed a few of my buttons. A secure feeling is wonderful–too bad everybody can’t have it. The safety net of money.
Then I looked at the first few comments and saw people falling over themselves praising him for speaking up about mental health! I felt so doomed. This is good writing about mental health? So many people could relate to it? Arrrg!
Today a bill was passed in Las Vegas criminalizing homelessness. Ming and some of our friends were at City Hall to protest it. Homeless people can be fined or get six months in jail for sleeping outside, or even sitting. Wow, you gotta be kidding me. I don’t think they can hire someone to help them declutter their game rooms. Maybe someone should listen to them about mental health.
I looked again at the name of the guy who wrote the post. He’s a famous actor. I felt so hopeless. I’m writing my heart out about this stuff.
I need to find an alternate life meaning. My regular life meaning is helping others through intimacy–communication, connection, love, honest closeness. But when that fails and I think reaching out is a totally pointless activity, what am I supposed to do. It gets ugly when I think my life is a joke because intimacy is a joke.
I told Ming I already decided I need to find an alternate life meaning–that’s on my to do list, hasn’t happened. Ming said he’s curious to see what I find. He seems to have a lot of faith I’ll find something. I feel thankful–I love his curiosity.
He said something about how I could care for plants or fungus instead of humans and other animals, just an example. I imagined a life of mushroom care–sounds intriguing. I imagined trying to help Mother Earth. I’m not a scientist. But maybe there’s a way… I told Ming it would be cool to have many life meanings, like ten of them.
We came home and I was lying in bed on my side, praying to ask God to help me find new meaning. My body was filled with sorrow. I was crying and praying, and it was hard to have faith. Ming heard me crying and came over to comfort me.
This is a hard time. Life is full of feelings. I txted my friend that I was discouraged and overwhelmed. They can go together.
Probably I should pray in all different ways. I’d like to go out to the desert. Someone asked where I’d like to travel–I said the town in New Mexico where my mom’s mom was born. I want to kiss the ground there. I’m imagining lying on my tummy out in the desert, kissing the ground, getting dust in my mouth. I think Ming would help me get back up.
For no good reason, here are pictures of enchiladas we made, green then red. I think Sunday we’ll make some more.