Why Am I Here, Really?

It's been a couple months now since I lost Finesse. Seven months since Style. I find myself just going through the motions. I work, get home, dawdle, sleep, wake, dawdle, sleep, repeat. Even though I have what many would presume to be a happy life, as well as a nice home and a lovely wife, I find that I am stagnating. I have given up on music. I no longer play any musical instrument. It doesn't being my joy anymore. I have a closet full of guitars that I am preparing to sell off. I just don't have the time or motivation anymore to do a band thing. I've turned down a few gigs so far this year and do not anticipate ever returning to any level of competence on any instrument I have ever previously mastered. It's not something I even want to do.

When Style and Finesse were here I had so much to look forward to. They were the very solidifying markers of my existence and also represented a very happy point in my life. Now that they are gone, I feel empty and worthless. Even more worthless than I have felt at any time in the past. I exist to work like a dog to earn money to pay bills which never end. A vicious cycle of life but not life. Is there anything that brings me happiness anymore? Some of the people in my life, close family, my wife, I guess.

What do intend to do? I intend to keep going until I can't. I have had plenty of instances where I've made a split-second life or death decision, always choosing life. Instinct over intent? Or instinct as unconscious intent? I'm still here. But why am I here, Really?

Not Myself

I've lost Finesse now. She went peacefully on September 11th around 3:30PM. With her have gone my hopes, dreams, aspirations, desires. Everything I was was bound to Finesse and Style. They were the reason I stuck around past 2000. They were my soul anchors. Each day that goes by I miss them more. I'd made a vow that I would stick around to take care of them and make their lives plentiful, beautiful, easy, and full of love. Implicit in that vow was that they were my only reason to continue. I feel lost. And every day that I remain here brings me further away from stability. I've started drinking a little more. Not to excess. But not limited to a glass of wine per week. I've had opportunities to do stupid shit for which I kick myself afterwards that that could've been the deciding moment. A bus driving towards me on the narrow road around UCLA veers into my lane, and I swerve when I should just stay put and let it happen. How stupid is that. Speaking of which. My wife makes me feel stupid and worthless more and more often. I'm bad enough at that on my own. I have no say in my house. I have no opinion at all. My voice doesn't matter and probably should be silenced. I'm thinking more and more of buying a gun and making a mess of the house. I wish I was less intelligent. Then I wouldn't be here for sure. I tried for years, smoking all that pot to make me stupider. Since I quit nearly 11 years ago, the haze lifted, and I can make smart decisions. So with just one smart decision left to make I find I am foundering and flailing and pretty much placing myself on a path. I don't know who I am anymore. And its not scary.

Getting Closer

Well, I’m down to one kitty. I’m still getting over the loss of Style. Fitness, the cat, has her own set of ailments. She has what appears to be a cancerous kind of tumor on her lower jaw. It appears to be irritating. I took her to the vet. And the doctor said that it would be best not to do surgery on a cat her age.  Instead, palliative care will be the course. The doctor prescribed Buprenorphine, which is a pain reliever.  I squirt a very small amount into Finesse’s mouth, and it’s absorbed instantly through the membranes and cheeks.

This is just a fix. For how long, who knows? I love her; she purrs, makes me smile. It's been a long time. I treasure every day she's here. And I made a pact with myself that I would not stick around once I have no one to take care of.

As far as getting things together for Pam... I need to make a will and secure some mortgage insurance so that when something happens to me, she'll be taken care of. I like to stare out at the ocean from the 8th floor at work. On a clear day you can see the boats on the ocean. There's a balcony right outside the window which is kept locked. I've only seen the maintenance workers go out there to take care of the plants. The vantage is excellent. Great views. See, there's still stuff that I like, that is timeless, that brings some comfort. A kid was screaming at the restaurant today. I wanted to go over there and smack the hell out of it. Wouldn't it be a different world if this kind of thing were acceptable? Parents might think twice before inflicting their brats on others. All it would take would be one well placed smack, the kid would be unconscious, and all would be silent except for the applause.

RIP Style "Mr." Sillykittenz

Style passed away a few days ago, on Tuesday, April 16th, 2019. He was nearly 17 years old. One of two earthly beings keeping me alive has now gone. To say that I am crushed by this simply does not come close. It's because of the unconditional love and comfort that Style gave. He was one of a kind. He has left a huge mark, and a tremendous hole in my life. Style was suffering from transitional cell carcinoma of the urinary bladder. He also had heart problems, kidney problems, and a recently discovered mass in his lungs which was causing him to cough. I was medicating him daily with anti-nausea medication and pepsid-AC. Every other day I was injecting him with 25mL of lactated ringer's solution. I'd been doing all this since he was diagnosed last October. This bought him an extra seven months on this planet and in my world. Sunday, almost suddenly, Style lost it. It became dreadfully apparent that he'd lost considerable weight. He was terribly weak and moved around slowly. He struggled to stand up, falling down frequently. This was all of a sudden. Just the day before he had been fine. And also, his purr had left him. He still had an appetite for food and water. He still struggled to climb into the litter box. And he fought hard to climb onto the bed to sleep next to me. I took everything out of him. I figured that maybe he had a bug or something, and he'd get over it in a day or so. That didn't pan out. He got worse. I made probably the toughest decision I've ever had to make in my life. It was painful, sad, and heartbreaking that I had to take him to the animal hospital to be euthanized. The vet also agreed that we had done all we could, and should not try to avoid the inevitable. They took Style into the back and fixed him with a catheter in one of his hind legs. Then they brought him to a private room so I could spend his last moments with him. He crawled into my lap one last time, and I held him and spoke softly to him. I apologized to him. And I thanked him for being a part of my life. I am so grateful that Style came into my life.

As I try to move onward, I see even more how much of my life is not really my own. My choices are not really mine. I spin my wheels for no good reason and to no outcome that I'd be interested in.

Finesse, Style's adopted sister is now alone, as am I. We have each other for comfort. Finesse is 19 now. She is amazing, having survived both her real brother and her adopted brother. Finesse is keeping me alive. The reality of allowing for Style's passing opens up new doors of responsibilities which I have for settling my affairs. I still have not made up a will. And I'm not sure if I care to. I really don't care about a whole lot anymore these past few days. My choices are not my own. My life is not my own. I am tired.