Saturday morning a bitch woke up at the crack of dawn to drive down to Columbia for an Equality Summit…and somewhere between St. Louis and Tiger Country a bitch caught Ebola.
What?
Fuck it! That shit was from the Ebola family for sure!
Hmph.
This bitch spent 2 hours in the car…and then several hours tossing up vomit in various campus bathrooms followed by a quick meeting…and then 2 hours in a car to get back home and toss up more vomit in my own toilet.
Lawd!
At a certain point the entire ordeal became funny as hell...fucking hilarious.
Anyhoo…
My ass woke up Sunday morning...drank some fluids…and drove out to the badlands of St. Louis county to drop off an edited version of my brother’s personal plan for 2006-2007.
For those not in the know, a bitch’s brother is autistic and my sister and I are co-guardians.
Bill is an adult…actually, he is the oldest…but he still gets a plan and goals and so forth from his residential treatment center.
Since we were working with a deadline and the hard copy needed more edits than a freshman English paper (Lawd, how does Cranky Prof deal with that shit?)…this bitch had to make like a courier and drive that motherfucking plan over to the powers that needed it.
Stomach rolling…temper simmering…nerve worked.
Since my head was swimming and my eyes had long since blurred, this bitch took the long way back home to South City. And I couldn’t help but ponder Bill’s plan…and what it was like to read my brother’s past, present and future in document form.
What would my life look like as a plan…what if that plan had to be presented and voted on for funding…what if my goals were discussed in committee and my hopes were edited by some time starved social worker with a client list from hell?
And yet there are benefits…the analysis of previous goals and the addition of new ones. Some of the goals make it past the ‘do we have money for this’ stage…hell, some even survive the ‘will we be laughed out of the budget meeting for proposing this’ level.
And somewhere along the road the thought of my life as a plan overwhelmed me and the reality of my brother’s life documented in a poorly written document that required so many edits that it couldn’t be faxed became too much to take. Somewhere between the county and the city…between incapacitated and empowered…between mentally ill and mentally well…between needing oversight and overseeing the needy...this bitch surrendered to the waves of emotion and had a good old school cry.
There…at last…just a sister crying like a bloody fool on the side of the road.
And then the radio slowly came back into focus…and my brain clicked back on…
Lawd, is that Wham?
No, that’s George Michael’s solo shit.
Sigh.
Stomach?
Settled.
Temper?
Released
Nerve?
Still worked (wink).
Life?
Blessed.
11 comments:
It is so true. It could always be worse: You could be George Michael. Or even worse: Your *brother* could be George Michael.
Oh. Hell. No. Thank. You.
Now breathe.
fatdancer...who told you about those napkins (wink)?
jeff...perish the thought!
Breathing...
Hugs to you both!
My best wishes are with you and your family.
It seems like you & your siblings are each other's greatest blessing - and since I'm in that boat myself (not w/ the autism, but with having family that has always got each other's back) I know you'll get thru it stronger and fiercer.
Thats too bad about the ebola. I woke up late and gunned it from Kansas City to Columbia in the torrential rain. Not sure how I did not flip into the various medians of I-70 but equality was calling. :) Ah the life of an intern.
Dear ABB, stargazer, seafarer -
Joe and I miss you. Sorry to hear about the initial rough ride into the Missourahhh country-side and the following emotionally toilsome trip back here in the Lou. You are admirably navigating the troubled waters of our times with only George Michael coming through on the ship's radio...
-Lukas, another weary deckhand awash at sea, growing so morbidly tired of living under a corrupt emperor's rule.
hmmm... it was the dixie hummingbirds for me when i lost my shit... but i suppose george michael would have done too.
everyone needs a good ole-school cry every once in awhile
Sorry to hear about the emotional turmoil. I can relate; can't say for sure how many interviews ended with me climbing back into my car and sobbing into the steering wheel.
Blessed indeed!
Amen!
You never cease to amaze me.
I assume it wasn't my darling George Michael's "Faith."
"A woman remembers that she can be both fierce and generous at the same time. Rage is not like a kidney stone--if you wait long enough, it will pass.
No, no. You must take right action. Then it will pass, and more creation will come to your life."
--Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Great story.
All I have to say next is....be careful on I-70 in Missouri.
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