Bacteria in the Throat

Love is bacteria in your throat.

Within four days time, my mother moved out, I had to coax my dad out of a bar and away from his vehicle, I found out I have contracted some sort of atypical strep throat to be a slave to penicillin twice a day for the next 10 days all while working six days a week and going to school for five, and my whole Labor Day was waited away in urgent care and sitting on the floor at Walgreens when I was supposed to go kayaking with a person I’ve been spending most of my time with. I’m not complaining to you, I am just telling you.

So deeply connected is everything in our lives. We wonder why ” the things” happen to us, but whether we find a reason or not is irrelevant to the fact that “things” do happen to us and we inevitably deal with them anyway. What’s the saying? When it rains it pours? Again, I’m not complaining, I am just telling you. image2-1

I am simply trying to understand what the fuck is happening so that I can deal with “the things” the healthiest and smartest way I can while I am being forced to. My parents separated because they were unhappy together, my mom moved away to live with her mother who needs my mom at this point in her elderly life, taking herself (my mother) away from her daughter (me) who is “an adult now.” Correct. But what is this irony? Now I am no longer near MY mother, and she as a mother is no longer near her DAUGHTER. My father and brother seem to think alcohol will numb the pain and take away “the things” that are troublesome, I often find myself battling with that liquid placebo with the same effect: Nothing is cured and nothing is solved when you wake up the next morning with a hangover, a slightly shrunken brain, dehydration, anxiety, lack of motivation, and a feeling of self hatred. So many times have I been there. But since Friday, though the days between then and now have been filled with bullshit, because of a bacterial infection in my throat- as much as my body craves the succulent body of red wine or a well-made margarita- I cannot drink to get drunk, I cannot smoke to get high, and I cannot have sex to feel a most primal and basic euphoria. To do any of the three would result in the antibiotics not working, my condition getting worse, or getting someone else sick. The first and third things I do almost daily, and the second I do almost weekly. For ten days I will do none of them.

For ten days I will be forced to stay in my own head and to deal with the things. To deal with the absence of my mother and sister (away at college), the sadness in my father, the anger in my brother, and a partner/relationship I cannot understand the basis of. To explain further about the latter, I will put it bluntly to begin with in a short statement: Sometimes I wonder why we didn’t just stay strictly “fuck buddies;” fuck, laugh, leave. The “he” is a universal he because almost all of my sexual/emotional relationships have been similar, all but one, but that one is over when he moved far away, and I’m sure it wasn’t necessarily healthy what we were doing, we just wanted different things at that point, and I know now that he nor I will ever be the same. I have only ever had one “titled” relationship and that was in tenth grade and I just don’t think high school counts. So in reality, I’ve never been in an “official” relationship. The current one is different from previous ones (before the one that went away) because it’s not just drunk-all-the-time-free-for-all, but we do spend time together and family time together, it’s really nice, but some things have me really confused and concerned. Regardless, as soon as you drop the love bomb (in a relationship or not) something changes whether you want it to or not. I always tell everyone I love them because you never know when the last time will be that you get to say it. When he says, “I love you,” I almost get pissed off. Who is me, and who the fuck is he? He loves me for my ass? He loves me for the way I’m not afraid in bed? He loves me for my personality and smile? Those things aren’t even who I am, and those are the only things I’ve seen him “love” me for, with condition. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. So does she. But she is not me either.

To be a part of this type of thing while my parents are going through their thing is both a blessing and a curse. I have someone to talk to about it, but I don’t think he is listening, and I don’t even think I want him to. No matter how old you are that shit will cut you deep when your foundation no longer wants to hold together. Why would I ever want to be married and have children when it can fall to pieces never to be the same again? I don’t want him to actually love me, because I don’t want to actually love him either. Love is painful, and love is the only thing that keeps us going. The paradox! No wonder I love getting tattooed and I am acquiring quite the collection… Anyways, what I’m saying here is that love is bacteria in the throat. The universe has made it so, that at this point in time with everything happening at once, I cannot drink and I cannot fuck like I normally would do, and all I can do is stay on ground 0 and reflect with no highs and no comedowns. This bacterial infection in my throat is the universe sending its unconditional love all the while he says let me know when you feel better so I don’t get infected, and my registered nurse mom isn’t flying home on 81 to take care of me and tell me I’ll get better soon. I am not complaining, I am merely telling you. On ground 0 I am watching the rest of the world get high and come down. I am the shore watching the waves, and the moon is “the things,” pulling gravity for the next ten days. And maybe even 10 more. We’ll see how this sober observation/reflection thing goes. So far, as I listen to the “The Noose” by Perfect Circle on repeat hour after hour I’m feeling pretty good about it. I know after I learn how to deal with and then apply healthy and smart actions to “the things” I will come out stronger than I went in, my armor of independence grows more and more unbreakable with every fucking arrow of shit hurdling at it. With “love” deconstructing all around me in terms of people in my life, in terms of human relations and conditions- which we are all imperfectly human in our perfectly beautiful human condition- I have never felt more love from the UNIVERSE, sitting here drinking hot “Throat Comfort” tea with honey.

Love is bacteria in your throat.


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