I think my body is in defensive mode. When the bad news piles up and I start to get really despondently depressed the current regime of meds allows my body to do what it used to do in this situation which is hibernate. Without the meds I would be up all night every night and all day every day until I was quite sure I was losing my mind because I would be losing my mind because that is what no sleep will do to you.
I have been wanting to write something about Karl's death* but I have no idea what. I still am shocked and also freaked out and also really depressed. Yesterday I kept thinking to myself that my parents must have an awful time of it because they believe that only a narrow subset of those who claim to be Christian are actually going to heaven and that everyone else is going to hell and so I was wondering if they really do think that Karl is in hell now or will be after the last judgment or what and for some reason this just depresses the hell out of me that they might actually believe this. How can they maintain that their faith gives them hope when almost nobody else in their families is "saved"? What a horrible thing to have to deal with every time somebody dies. There is nothing hopeless about believing that death is the end or at least not in comparison to believing that everyone but a select few will be tortured forever.
So even though I don't believe what my parents believe I find it extremely depressing to contemplate what they must have to go through whenever someone close to them dies. Not that I feel sorry for them exactly: they choose their depressing beliefs.
I don't know why it bothers me really because the chances that they are right are very very slim. It's just how can you believe that way and claim that it gives you hope. That I cannot make sense of. And how could they truly believe that Karl, for instance, would deserve that? Maybe that is what upsets me about it. Maybe I do not have anyone else to get mad at for this so I will be mad at them even though they had nothing to do with his actually dying.
I mean honestly I cannot fathom wanting to live forever either although I could see the allure of maybe a few hundred years here and there just to see how things turn out. I would like to come back in a few millennia and see how we did or maybe I would only need to wait another century to find that out. That's what bugs me the most about death: cutting things short just as they get interesting. I want to know what happens once we meet other life in the universe if we live long enough to do so. Of course chances are that unless the life is more intelligent than we are we will just try to exploit it for profit and succeed mainly in killing off most of it. Sometimes I wonder if that is what is coming for us: our karma repaid to some other rapacious and greedy life form.
The last 48 hours have seen me awake for less than eight of them. I wonder if I will be awake till Monday or only until whatever magic ingredient is in the ice cream wears off. Thing is last time I ate a pint of ice cream it put me right to sleep. Maybe there is a limit to how much even I can sleep.
I am thirsty but a cat is holding me down. Santiago is amazingly heavy for such a little guy. I might have to disturb him to go get some fizzy water. Fortunately I made some a little while ago and the seltzer bottle is just sitting in the fridge waiting for me to dispense it into a drinking vessel.
There. I got up and now he is pointedly not sitting on my legs even though I have re-offered them to him. He'll wait until right before I have to pee.
Because he is a cat he does not realize any of this but I am putting a great deal of pressure on him right now to stay here and stay alive. It is interesting how much one can lean on a cat and the cat never knows anything about it and so does not crumble under the strain of having to be there for you through thick and thin because they mostly don't notice that things are getting thicker or thinner except I do think he misses Jackson or at least he has been more demanding of space on my lap of late. Usually he is content to sit on my legs but now he has to come right up to my face and flop down on my chest several times a day. It's cute and warm but it does make it difficult to do much but Pay Attention To The Cat. Which I am sure is the whole point.
*In case you do not follow me on facebook, my cousin Karl was found dead in his apartment just about a week ago. My uncle, his dad, found him. The immediate theory was a heart attack last I heard but I do not know if any coroner's report had been made yet. He was 47 years old; two years younger than I am. He was the only cousin I kept up with on my dad's side of the family and almost the only cousin I kept up with at all. I do not understand why it had to be him and why now but death is not for making sense it just is like a big hole in the floor that you cannot walk around.