Not a concert review

I went to a concert last night. I arrived late and left early, so I don't think I have anything to contribute about that.

I was glad for what I saw; I just wasn't in the right frame of mind. That's been a problem for a while.

It was going to be three of us going, but it ended up just being me. There are ways in which that has been better in the past, but that is not working for me as well. Going to concerts alone has been kind of a freak thing to do, which I have felt even when I enjoyed doing it. When I enjoyed it, I didn't realize how much it took. There has to be some strength or being okay with yourself or something where I am not just a mess on the verge of a breakdown.

I knew there was a chance I would not really be up for it, but when I thought about skipping it I got this sense of panic that I get when I have a chance for some respite time and feel it slipping away.

Things have been getting worse. There's really no other direction for that to go. I had not been feeling great, and I have been feeling it slowing me down. I feel it in my knees and my hips especially.

That could totally be arthritis coming on. I have that in the family genes and as a fat person I will always be assumed to be at risk of things like that and specifically for that reason, regardless of what other factors might be in play.

But the other thing is that it has been like there is this invisible weight resting on top of me; it really is more of a lack of energy and will than pain. I thought if I left the house I could get it off of me for a few hours, and spring back up a little. It worked, except then I kept starting to cry. Apparently that weight tamps down the emotions too.

So it looks like respite time should now just involve hiding places where I can have a good cry without being observed by people.

And it's fine; no one notices if you are crying at a concert. It isn't typically how I like to enjoy my rock music though.

Before this sounds too maudlin, I have one more concert Tuesday (summer, right?) that has different circumstances, and that I am optimistic about. Also, last week we (sisters, mother, and I) went to the Carousel Museum in Albany, and even though I was not off duty, it was still a break. So, it's not always like this, but it's like this a lot. The cumulative effect is taking a toll.

In the midst of my death and grief reading, I recently finished Sherwin B. Nuland's How We Die: Reflections on Life's Final Chapter. I am sure I will write more about the whole section when I have finished it, but there is one quote from the chapter on Alzheimer's about the families that I copied into my journal, and keep pondering:

The cost, of course, is considerable. In terms of emotional damage, of neglect of personal goals and responsibilities, of disturbed relationships, and obviously of financial resources, the toll is unbearably high. Few tragedies are more expensive.

I don't have an answer for that.  I have ideas for things that would help society in general, and given the percentage of families that experience Alzheimer's that is something to think about, but we are not there now. So with my actual resources, how do I deal with that blight right now?

I wish I knew.