Banging away on about half a cylinder

I had a really bad night. Just being exhausted doesn’t cause the world to stop. We didn’t have any rocket alerts, but apparently Israel is using concussion bombs, collapsing the tunnels that were built on the border of Gaza. I feel it and, it doesn’t help me sleep – for some reason.

I am noticing a new thing about myself in the midst of all of this fun and games. I don’t want to have anything to do with people who aren’t in the middle of all of this with me. I feel I have nothing in common with them, they annoy me. Friends call to see how I am and just want to hang up on them. I appreciate the consideration, but you see, you don’t get it. You can’t get it and I can’t explain it to you and I don’t have the energy to try because I need it all to keep going.

So I try not to be short tempered, I try not to be curt, and I try to get the *f* out of the conversations as quickly as possible because I just can’t cope. I want to say things like ‘if you aren’t helping then leave me alone,’ only, they are trying to help and it really isn’t like there is anything they can do.

But – I need to reserve my energy for the next tseva adom, for the next life-or-death decision of whether to drive out into the big scary world to buy a computer screen or some cables or some ground beef. I need to try and be present for my kids, who need something to lean on in the worst way in the middle of this. Not small children, barukh hashem, but children all the same, who need their mother so they can go on functioning, and for the adults, acting like adults.

It’s not that I’m not interested in other people’s problems. In fact, people saying they have nothing to complain about compared to me annoy me terribly. I’d love to hear something going on with somebody else that I could take an interest in, and if you are genuinely distressed I’d like to be able to help. It would be a nice contrast to the impotence of just sitting here listening to the ‘boom’s.

It’s a whole lot like people who tell me that after seeing me (in the wheelchair or whatever) they feel they don’t have any problems. WTF is up with that? My being a cripple doesn’t erase your problems any more than bombs being dropped around me. So don’t talk in that stupid way. You have your problems and I have mine, and we can identify with each other, empathise with each other, and support each other through the recognition that we are all hurt and hurting human beings. Far better than you (the able-bodied, or ‘safe’ person) can ‘help’ me by looking down from your awesome heights and feeling bad for me.

*I* don’t feel bad for me. I am tired, yes, and I have a lot to be getting on with that feels more important than endlessly going through the identical conversation with concerned friends. But would I exchange my life for theirs? I don’t think so.

Being bombed sucks, and being disabled sucks and that’s a fact. But so many things suck in this world. I’ll take my problems over anyone else’s, and that is fine with me.

I do get irate, down-right purple-faced, about the b.s. media. I really hate the mis-information and the lies. Absolutely sends me. People who actually believe the stuff that they read and hear in the media annoy me as well, it’s not as if there isn’t ample proof that the stuff they put out is complete and utter nonsense. Not just about the situation here. Seriously.

Yeah, but I don’t wanna write about that anyway. I am just tired, too tired. Can’t multi-task at all. I have two people I have to call back, one who called and then I had to run for the ‘shelter’ of the middle of the house – where I ate my breakfast today. And another who called while I had two kids wanting something from me. There isn’t enough of me to go ’round. So it goes.

I am happy and grateful to be here in my wonderful home, in this wonderful and crazy country. More grateful than you can imagine that my kids are all doing as well as they are, and that I turned out to be as good a mom as I did. The odds weren’t good, I’m telling you. I feel lucky to be alive, and, while I wouldn’t choose it if anyone had given me a choice, I can see so very many ways that me being crippled has made me into a better person, wife, mother.

So that’s it from the crippled/war front today. I’m too tired even to distinguish things. Just annoyed, and impatient, and when I have a few minutes to think about it, very, very happy with how things have turned out for me.

Crazy, no?

Just remember, if someone asks you if you want to be disabled, say ‘no.’

If someone asks if you want to live in a war zone, you may have to give that one a bit more thought. Seriously.

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