When you write a lot about how wonderful life is and how easy it is to be happy if you just try, you might be leaving yourself open to karmic/cosmic comeuppance.
Today I learned that my grandfather — who I was raised by — was diagnosed with lung cancer. Large and widespread lung cancer. I can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Moving through the day seems to violate some new barrier. And yet not moving seems to be a travesty in itself — he isn’t dead and I shouldn’t act like he is or that he will be. And yet at some point he will be. We all will. I’m angry at the sun for shining. I’m angry at my emotions for erupting haphazardly. I’m angry that I am here and not there. At least the latter is fixable and on Monday I will feel less impotent and can at least fret in formation.
I am not ready for this.