Whole Lotta Love

Thanks to my friend Kathy, I happily have Led Zeppelin in my head this morning.

Warum?

She sent me a link to a Substack post by John Pavlovitz—Grieving People Who Are Still Alive—The relational deaths by irreconcilable differences.

He talks of the grief of losing friends and family with whom we no longer share a common sense of right and wrong. Pavlovitz is referring to loved ones who, we’ve discovered, we’re fundamentally morally misaligned. Maybe we’ve always been ethically out of sync? Maybe we’ve never occupied the realm of compassion together—we just assumed that this loved one was there too?

The good news/bad news for me is that I learned this lesson early. When I was diagnosed at the nowhere-near-ripe age of 22 with neurofibromatosis type 2, I understood that my life would be more constrained. That is, I learned that a large percentage of humans shy away from those of us who are somewhat limited by a physical and/or mental crapoli. We’re less fun and scary/sad to be around. We're unrelatable to the young and healthy.

Brain surgery scares the fuck out of a lot of folks (even when they’re not the ones going under the knife) so they back off, create distance; they underline the fact that they just can’t deal. I get it—unless you’re already in love (platonically or romantically) with a person, or share qualities similar to Keanu or Dolly, sick people are a drag for vibrant, unafflicted types. I understand.

Also, as a grumpy, oddly humored misanthrope, loving me is a real challenge anyway. Honestly, I totally get it!

The point? Getting back to Pavlovitz’s post, a lot of these compassion-free MAGAt idiots, long ago, self-airlocked themselves from my life. Good! The ones who didn’t, managed to show their cards early enough so that I could in-real-life block them before much (or further) damage was done.

Funnily, they've consistently failed to grasp why I’ve put up a wall. Not the former studio-mate who devolved into a compassion-free, mocking, bullying twatzilla. Nor the family member who called me a race traitor for being an outspoken anti-racist (AKA a sentient human being). Definitely not the other MAGAt, racist fuck of a family member who claims to be the BESTEST Christian EVER. These are just a few of the shitheels who will never breech my tungsten clad, reinforced concrete wall of self-protection.

I imagine it sucks to be fully grown adults without clue.

This morning, after a big night of dreams, I’m grieving the corporeal loss of the magnificent Scott Artman, Kevin Scott and the always amazing, caring, and beautiful Bob. I’m also deeply grateful for and in love with Ten, Jen, Oni, and my fabulous sister Celeste. They all stand (and stood) by me despite the unending surgeries, recoveries, warped sense of humor, and incorrigible misanthropy.