Into the red...

Dearest W.,

Over the past several days, I have found myself falling into the depths of a pit of melancholy and I must confess this has me a bit concerned. Most likely the cause is a number of disparate elements that have converged and clashed within my consciousness to create the perfect psychic storm—if you will. Let me see if I might properly explain.

As was the topic of discussion far too many times during my visits with you, I continue to struggle with issues related to my condo. The irresponsible prick that lives below me continues to refuse to fix his air conditioning compressor unit that is above my bedroom. At times, the noise it makes is so loud that it can be heard over music being played in the room at a normal listening level. At least I have found a brand of earplugs that masks that frequency of sound so I am able to sleep at night. However, over the long haul this is not going to be acceptable as the earplugs are irritating and cause me a number of issues with my inner ear.

This will no doubt continue to be a long drawn out battle to get resolved. I have little doubt that I’m going to have to threat stop paying my condo fees to get the board of directors to get off their collective ass and do anything about it. Even then, I doubt they’ll do anything. Which means in the end it’ll be me who foots the bill for soundproofing the bedroom enough to mask the noise.

Right now, I’m just looking forward to the day that I can get the hell out of here which I hope will be as quickly as possible.

In addition to all that I have going on with the condo, we are in the midst of the shift from summer to fall. While fall is my favorite time of year, this particular transition has always been a difficult one for me for any number of reasons.

In part, it has to do with residual feelings from childhood. I was the odd duck of a child who actually enjoyed school. I looked forward to fall and the return to the opportunity to see my fellow students and once again engage in the associated activities of learning. School was a way for me to escape from the reality of my dysfunctional family and return to a place of safety and acceptance.

Also, the fall is a particularly difficult time of year for me due to it being the anniversary of the week spent in the bunker in the fall of 2006. Since then, each time September rolls around it stirs up feelings and memories associated with the week spent there and the several weeks of associated out-patient therapy. And I won’t even get started on the two years of useless “therapy” that followed.

Now if those two things weren’t enough. There is yet another anniversary which makes this time of year yet another opportunity to look down the barrel of the proverbial loaded gun for moi and that would be MMRFRO. Fall is the season in which he and I did our little dysfunctional dance. Therefore as the days begin to shorten and the evenings become cool thoughts of D. invariably invade my consciousness. For whatever reason, they’ve been particularly virulent this year. Perhaps due to the fact that I have so much going on and I’m attempting to create a way to escape from all of the pain associated with the home situation and my family.

And to top all of this off like a cherry perched on the whipped cream of a pity-filled ice cream sundae, as I mentioned in a letter to St. Bernadette the other day, my family has discovered my stepfather has a rare form of blood-related cancer. Which I believe is pretty much proving to be the final nail in the coffin of my ability to remain positive in mind and spirit.

Along those lines, I had a rather interesting experience the other day in that regard.

On the 20^th I wrote a letter to St. Bernadette concerning the type of cancer my stepfather has been diagnosed as having. In the early morning hours of the following day, I received a hit to the letter written hours earlier from Serbia as a result of the keyword search “epo”. Finding such as keyword rather curious, and the fact that the letter I’d written the day before ranked on a return page of 34, I did a quick Google search of the term myself.

I nearly fell off my chair when I viewed the results of my own search.

EPO or Erythropoietin, is a glycoprotein hormone that controls erythropoiesis, or red blood cell production. It is a cytokine for erythrocyte (red blood cell) precursors in the bone marrow.¹  In other words, it’s essentially the puzzle piece that’s responsible for the type of cancer that has invaded my step father’s body. It appears dear Bernadette has begun to answer my prayers.

And finally dear friend, I think part of the reason that I’m feeling out of sorts is the fact that I miss you horribly. With each day that passes, I’m coming to learn how much of a void has been left in my life due to your transitioning. I miss your ever willing ears to listen to my bitching and your ability to provide support and understanding through the most difficult of circumstances. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find someone who might show me the same unconditional love that you did. It’s a gift I will forever cherish and never forget.

Sending you much love!