circus, circus

outside, we're all living through this horrible circus (i actually hear sinister circus music playing in my head when i think about it): the pandemic and fires and floods and loss and chaos and damage and sense of impending doom, sense of descent into madness... 

even if that were a fairy tale, even if life was the same as we knew it 9 months ago and masks were still just things worn at Halloween, even without the current national shitshow that is unfortunately my country, i would still have cancer to work with. 

i would still be undergoing my second line of treatment for cancer, still be huffing and puffing around the block on my .5 mile walk, still be mourning my father, remembering the strange and painful anniversaries that October brings.

it would still be less than 3 days from my last mental freak out, my silent, rageful scream at the computer with its lack of comforting information about my situation, its lack of a beacon of hope, or not even a beacon. i'd have settled for a dumb dim light of some kind, a way to look forward that can't be dismissed with cynicism. 

what's my point? i guess it's that no matter what's happening in the world or in my neighborhood, i can't ever participate fully or the way i'd like to. everything ---- EVERYTHING -- has to be viewed through the lens of this disease, whether I like it or not, whether I conjure up some mental gymnastics that makes it seem as though I can sideswipe it, or make it less grave than it actually is ---- 

not that I'm chomping at the bit to be a full-fledged participant in the above-mentioned spectacle; maybe you'd rather not have to be one, either. this is what it feels like not to have a choice.