Climbing out of the pit

I'm feeling a little better this week, although my life is just as uncongenial as it was before. I just can't stay in that slough of self-pity for very long. The best cure for it is to take an interest in someone else and stop thinking so much about how much my life sucks, so that's what I did. I went to four meetings this week and listened to everyone else's problems and triumphs, which allowed me to forget my own for awhile and supplied the added benefit of opening up my connection to others through empathy and compassion.

I was given an opportunity to practice patience, as well. As I left the women's meeting on Thursday I was buttonholed by a woman whose conversation bores me nearly to death, and as she held me hostage for twenty deadly minutes I had occasion to be grateful for being myself. As she went droning on about the various wrongs she had suffered at other people's hands, it occurred to me that I'd rather live a life bereft of people than have what this woman has. Her life is filled with people, whom she invites to abuse her in one way or another so that she can wallow in her victimhood.

Not that I haven't got my own version of victimhood (last week's entry being a perfect example). It's just not like that. I used to make jokes about the Universal Conspiracy Against Hep Cat (that sounds funny, but I don't want to use my name), but the conspiracy, as I saw it, was impersonal. I didn't feel that other people were deliberately inflicting pain on me, or that God was singling me out for suffering in some malicious way. I've never been able to blame other people for what they do, or at least, not for long. My relentless honesty refuses to allow it. I tried pointing out to the woman last night, as she complained of having been used and abused by her former fiance, that because she voluntarily placed her neck under his foot, she can't very well blame him now for stepping on it. She said, "Yes, I know," but I don't think she does know. I've never met anyone who focuses more on other people's behavior. She seems incapable of looking at her own part in things. But she has stayed clean for over five years, and she's better now than she used to be, so there's hope. She reminds me of that old joke about the co-dependent who wakes up in the morning and says to her partner, "How do I feel today?" but there's always room for people to change.

So there it is, a simple solution to the ongoing irritation of my own inner victim. Another is to go and have some fun, which I was able to do last weekend, and which I'm planning to do today. My friend Rebecca, who was so helpful with my garden, has a bluegrass band which is playing this afternoon at Cold Springs Tavern. I was planning to go by myself, but on a whim I emailed my niece, who lives in Ojai, to invite her to go with me. She accepted happily, so she's going to meet me here later and we'll drive to the show together. A couple of weeks ago she invited me to an art opening in Ventura. I wanted to go, but it was the day of Kim's sponsee get-together, so I couldn't make it. But we agreed to let each other know when we found something fun to do, as both of us are starved for culture and living among philistines who don't care one way or the other.

I've been thinking that it would be a good idea if I started paying more attention to the UCSB Arts & Lectures series. They often have good stuff, but I never go, either because I forget about it or because I don't want to go by myself. My niece might want to go sometimes, which makes it a more appealing prospect. I don't want to miss Anne Lamott the next time she comes through, and there's music from all over the world. A big reason why I don't like working so far away from where I live is that I feel less like a Santa Barbaran because of it. I spend forty hours a week in another town, and I have to adjust myself every day as I leave here and come back here. Possibly availing myself of the culture on offer here will help to make me feel more at home.

I suppose I should mention Interferon at least once before I close. Last night I did my 26th shot, which means I have 28 to go. I'm almost halfway. The past week has been very nearly free of side effects, apart from the insomnia and the husky voice. I feel really good, physically; my lungs are clear, I have plenty of energy, and I'm able to spend quite a lot of time on my trampoline, which helps to mitigate the depression. I know that things can change in a moment, so I'm reveling in it while it lasts.