today

words breathe
and the truth shatters illusions.
mind shatters darkness.
time - but a breath
between the winds.

from tree of dreams, by lynn andrews. yes, i am still reading that book. i wish to take an evening this week and just spend some time. curled up early in bed, with my book and my pencil/sketchbook. of course, the laptop's already right by my bedside. martin quips that he should have a laptop on his chest - riiiight. and i would get a lot of typing done then? NOT.

susan's posts about her life in the drug netherworld made me think about addiction. even more so than i already have. i am an addict. a pot junkie. honest and true. a functioning one. i am not sure i want to possess the desperation of an addict. but ... i wonder if its a trait that some of us simply possess. i wonder why its ok to have the same addictive relationship with a job, or a career, or with money. our society uses words such as 'enterprising ... good work ethic' in reference to such behaviour. but, in reference to a socially unacceptable life element, its destructive. it seems sort of a double standard to me. just an observation.

well, we have found a place. just under the wire. as usual. i admit, i began to crumble early this morning while awaiting a phone call from our prospective landlord. despair. it grabs us by the tail and then won't fucking let go. it seized me. i began to come up with a plan to execute just in case we could not find a place by month's end. i began to fret. and right on cue, before the fretting escalated, the phone call arrived. relief. of sorts.

i have felt sort of burdened by all this . moving here to vancouver has taken a heavy chunk out of me. and from martin, too. i think of him as my rock. but he has a frail rock, too. not without his addictions, anxieties, depressive swings. i have felt him crumbling of late. i know he feels underutilized in his current work situation. i know he thinks i should work more. i wonder if he understands we i have not. well, aside from the scheduling difficulties. i wish i really did not have to work while studying. when i am so busy that i have no time to breathe i become terribly messed up. its like the pressure of it all consumes me.

i have never really recovered fully from nursing. it took something from me and i never got it back. i entered nursing so that i would have some one to look after when my son 'went away.' that is why i chose nursing. to try to get back what i missed ... what i lost ... what i constantly sought while mothering him .... through some other means. i think that's what brian (the anomalous social moron from athens, georgia with which i 'on-line-trysted') was all about, too. an attempt to get what i lost.

i most learn. what's lost - its lost. to spend so much time fussing over what's not there means one fails to see all that exists there! and to run to g-d's green acre just to try and recoup it ... really that's tantamount to running from the reality of loss. running. the chase. it occurs to me that the chase stops if we stop running. and also, often, oh-so-often, we have not lost nearly as much as we think. i expended so much energy and time mourning the son that's no longer here, i almost forgot about that one that's still here.

i face quitting pot for the time being (starting tomorrow) with much silent trepidation. i have no choice about not smoking it - no money buys no drugs. simple as that. and plain as i can make it. however, i do not like that the prospect of having none seems like such a thorn in my side.

i want to write about the drug netherworld that i have seen here, in vancouver. i want to write about being a nurse that's a drug addict. and about the incompatibility of the two. i want to write about how anger, and blame - its sabre - blinds us to the truth of reality.

but not tonight. not tonight.