Dead weight

As always, life grinds on and on...push the rock up, it rolls down, push it up again (rinse and repeat...).

I wonder about finding meaning in life with all this grinding and rolling. I'm not talking about meaning in the abstract sense, but in the concrete sense of "here is why I get up every morning." This is not depression, mind you...just a heart and mind looking for a mission, for peace, for adult company, for satisfaction, for fun, for an adventure worth having.

H continues to be sort of a mess with a few stays at the hospital since I've last written. Pretty routine seizure (they think) activity. He's still declining although it is slow, almost imperceptible...at least until I see him try to have a conversation with someone. More of the same.

Part of the grind is living with someone I don't want to live with anymore. Over time, I've come to the conclusion that I really don't like H much as he is now. I would prefer not to be around him, to not have to deal with him, to close that chapter in my life. If I could, I would just "wish him into the corn field." (sic)

I've written here about the delusions and the paranoia. Recently, tho', a heap o' narcissism is cropping up and, after all, it is all about him. It is all about people listening to him (which means they must agree with him and do as he says) and of course, if they're struggling, it is because they didn't listen to him. Nothing worse than someone who knows what's good for someone else and has no hesitation in telling them with conviction.

All of this is to say that I generally feel pretty happy (really), but struggle with putting one foot in front of another (with purpose) as I move through time with H. It's hard for me to imagine that I'd place H because I tire of him, because he pisses me off, because I'm tired, because I don't like him anymore, because he is dead weight.