Okay, so I have posted a few times, but not so many (I hope) that the blog is incomprehensible. I think I can finally explain. There is something about explaining, about telling that makes things real, often even more real than they are and so this has taken a little time to be able to say.
It should be pretty clear that my life has veered off (of something, from wherever...) and become an unasked for off road event. Not that I like interstates, not that I can imagine ever using a GPS because I don't really mind being "lost," since some of the finer things in life are discovered when lost, BUT....couldn't there at least be a single sign, even one in the far distance, too far away to read even, a single colour in the landscape that I recognize, or one object on my tile floors that I know, know in my heart, and really trust I can count on to be where I left it when I reach for it? Just one, one tiny thing? Guess not.
When I started this blog, that is to say, registered it or whatever that is called, and put on a picture and prevailed upon my son to give it a name I didn't know what it would be. Not that I do now, so don't be misled. What I did know was that I had reached beyond, so far and way beyond the end of my proverbial frayed rope that I couldn't even see the strands. But, I was maintaining, and not too badly really.
At the time father-husband, as I refer to him now, was going off the rails, or so it seemed, and had been for some time. We were all exhausted, frustrated, angry and at a complete loss as to what to do. This was not all grim, mind you, there are many sort of funny parts if you have that kind of humor, and I do, and perhaps for that I should be thankful. Anyway, anyway. After all sorts of travails and adventures we got him to a dr and some testing, which revealed that he did not have a psychiatric disorder as we had thought--although the symptoms may be the same, so try to wrap your mind around that: he acts crazy but he is not--but an organic issue involving the frontal lobe, which a neurologist subsequently diagnosed as Frontal Temporal Dementia/Frontal Lobe Dementia. Not a good thing, not at all. All of the symptoms that had crept up over a series of years (me obsessing over trying to figure out when, precisely when it all started, to no avail) and finally reached a critical point now made sense. Not depression, not just being a jerk--FTD or FLD, characterized by personality changes: anger, inability to see the effect of behaviors on others, increasing detachment, lack of affect, and it goes on.
Does a diagnosis change anything? Maybe outcome and trajectory but not the immediate. No. The behaviors don't change, the effect of those behaviors on others doesn't change and so it goes.
And so goes the blog. Funny that it is "star-crossed," which, until I recently looked it up, I thought had a positive connotation, a sense of fate, and other worldly karmic meant to be-ness. But no; I found out recently that it means ill fated. That may be, but I prefer my definition, however faulty--or not. (I don't give in easily) Perhaps this "salvage," whatever it entails, will result in something. But for now, and maybe for always, since I have never seen myself as a results person, Star-crossed Salvage is a search and sort through disparate pieces, particles, shards and shreds. It is a story of an unintended off road trip, not always comfortable, and unmapped. Because it is off road it is not linear, and not consistent: a smooth area may at any moment turn into deep sand, snow, a boulder field or a ditch. As for the stars? Stars sparkle, they are distant and seductive, they swirl and are deceptive in their light when we look up at them. And we wish. If we look hard enough we will see the space where our fact resides, or so we like to believe. And we think that if we look hard enough we will discern it. I hold no such illusions, but perhaps secretly, that hope.
So that is the deal, so to speak, and here is the blog. Star-crossed Salvage. I am looking around but I don't know what I will find, and thus, not what I will write or will be read. I love off roading, but not so sure about this trip. Usually there is a plan, a destination of sorts, but not this time, and that was not my choice. Nevertheless, here I am and as I said, those stars are deceptive; they promise insight, but there is no telling what they will deliver.
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