My dad’s got leukemia and he’s not going to get treatment. it’s hard. it brings up all of these feelings. i realize I’m the only person in his life who’s known him the longest. as his mind goes, the other versions of him, all of his adult life, i’ve been the only constant other than his parents and aunt mo. and she’s out of the picture. with that bullshit.

So, how do I reconcile his lack of care? actual physical care. there are so many me-s that know so many him-s. while i’m better equipped to deal with all of these characters, i’m emotionally worn out. i’m resistant to becoming the adult in this situation. i’m wrestling with my shoulds. there’s a simple wrod that describes what i’m feeling, but i can’t find it. ah, obligation. see, not so hard. i have to define for myself my degrees of obligation. but when i see him, i just want to take care of him. he’s so pitiful. his mind gone is devastating. it happened so fast, i didn’t know the last time we talked was the last time he’d understand me. but that’s always the way. that’s life.

so many layers. primal shit. my eyes are constantly wet with tears.

poor old bastard. he called his current wife his 3rd wife’s name to me. I don’t know if he does it to her and don’t want to ask her. that’s her husband. what a shame. she’s respecting his wishes and breaking her own heart. she loves him. i feel sorry for her. AND have to keep my distance a bit. I feel as selfish as I think he is. i guess not out of character for either of us.

Now we just watch him die, i guess. keep moving through our days. there’s no script for this. this is pure individuation. while being a shared human experience. i guess the routineness of it lends itself to each person going through it differently. it’s one of the few experiences all humans will have one way or another.

i haven’t even gotten to the what has he taught me part of the show.

what will i lose? what do i want to get from him now? what if I can’t get anything, what then? more trauma?

and while i want to help minnie and taariq, i’m fighting for my life in my own mask right now. for some reason (ha-reason!) i always thought i’d be super detatched from the parents dying. this is hitting me really hard. like full body ache hard. all the little me-s are destroyed by the news. they still see they’re tall handsome laughing dad. 30’s dad. before he became so heavy.

but i also have been confronted with my body shame shit too. i always chalked it up to the islam, but it’s some dad shit. his pscyho sexual shit is also coming out in that he thinks everyone in the hospital is having sex all the time and something about movie theater masturbation. it was the disgust/ can you believe it/ i don’t want to be a part of it that was so…bizarre. that’s some deep therapist time there.