Taro is the newest cat in the house. However, Taro is a sick cat. I took him in because I could not just watch him suffer and slowly die. Not when he had been asking for help, following me around when I took out the trash even when he was weak from hunger and his illness.
He has been with us for almost a month. He has improved a lot but he is still sick and it is possible he may have a short life with us. It is also possible that he will live much longer than we hope.
Sitting with Taro has given me an unexpected space and time to just be, and then, later on, to bravely sit with my thoughts and feelings while I looked after him. He is a very sweet cat, always longing for company, also always hungry. His gaze is ancient and knowing and compassionate even while he himself is in need of much compassion.
Taro is so eager to live, and I am so eager to get out of this life.
He is undergoing a series of treatments, tests, and observations. I worry about him while I also take care of a household recovering from the pandemic virus.
My dad is a long-hauler -- a virus survivor but still generally weak and taking a long time to get back to a semblance of his normal self and routine. Hence he is not able to do work and all financials are on my shoulders. It so happened that dayjob work has also taken a pandemic hit, primarily complicated by decisions made that were not fully planned out. Hence my dayjob paychecks don't even begin to get us through a month's basic needs.
What has saved me on a day-to-day basis is my art and the art shop. So I want to put in more hours into it. But life has changed so much since my dad got sick that all I am at the moment is a ghost too tired to even whisper a boo.
My life is on a long haul. I don't know how much longer I can keep up everything. Everything always seems to take the long road, the hard road, the path with the most detours and delays.
I feel that my life is burning out and soon it will all be gone and I have nothing much to show for it but disappointments. All promise and potential and not much else.
Sitting with Taro sometimes puts me in a paralyzing state of panic and anxiety as everything crashes in on me. All the things unfinished, all the things waiting to be started. All the things that I have little to no resources to make happen.
Today is Sunday and I am armed with Sharpie and Post-its, attempting to sort through the day that feels less like a weekend and more like an obstacle course.
I wish my writings were more happy and positive and inspiring. I have always wanted to be one of those people online who write posts that other people go to in order to feel good. My art at least can do a bit of that, but my writing has always been sad or dark or aching. And occasionally whiny, I must admit.
But as I sit more with Taro I hope something changes in what and how I write. And most importantly I hope I get to write more. Inspite of all the duties and all the devastations of the dayjob. I hope I can finally find the better flow so I can do more of my art. I hope I can find more strength because I feel I have used it all up. I hope I can find better luck, or better luck will find me. I hope Taro stays with us for much longer.