butcheres-blog

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I want to mock him so bad.

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I’m so glad Murky’s feet are clean because if she tracked mud in the house right now I might just cry. Okay. Okay, this is good.

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It’s like everything else is manageable. Everything else. I’m a doctor and a religious leader and a father and a teacher and a slaughterhouse foreman and a labor advocate and a community caregiver and I’m managing all of that and I have to walk Murky’s puppy. But I do not have room in my life for people to push their way into it. I don’t want to be vented to and I do not want to vent. You can’t just fucking set up camp in my house when I’m not actively giving you treatment. You can’t accept my (freely given) labor and take up more time than I offer and then try to weasel your way past my professional boundaries and act like I’m just being a good friend. If you got past my bedside manner you would not like what I’m semi-politely masking.

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“What’s wrong? What’s bothering you? Are you okay?” Well, maybe the war, or maybe the plague, or maybe my father, or my mother, or my brother, or maybe the intergenerational trauma, or maybe I’m just having a bad day. Does it matter? No, you don’t care, because none of that is about you. If Kooseh wasn’t around I might lose it.

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It was good. We talked about all of the actual issues on my mind. And Maera came in because she has a scratchy throat. I care deeply about my work. I’d love to be a pediatrician, or something, if I have to do primary care.

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Кусэ — Today at 12:10 PM No humility.

Артемий — Today at 12:10 PM No will. It's hard to put into words, but that's it. They don't see what they've done, the gravity of it. And when they get glimpses, they just use it to self-flagellate.

Кусэ — Today at 12:12 PM Is it you wishing them more like of me?

Артемий — Today at 12:14 PM You know what I believe... and your choice was willed. And you accept the consequences and move forward.

Кусэ — Today at 12:15 PM Boddho has been merciful, esegher.

Артемий — Today at 12:15 PM It's about understanding. And blood. I don't need them to understand. They can't. They're too different from us. I just need them to give me space, after they've injured us all. And move forward. I'd prefer them brash and unrepentant to whatever the fuck this is. Taking up my space, demanding my energy, filling my home with their self-pity.

Кусэ — Today at 12:24 PM You have the duty of care, emshen. You fulfill it. Khyygedi be oshoko. A life is round, let it not be warped.

Артемий — Today at 12:29 PM Thank you. And thanks for letting me speak freely.

Кусэ — Today at 12:30 PM It is natural. The distress, natural too.

Артемий — Today at 12:34 PM

Unente, I'm cleaning the house. My American friend is coming to visit again. But you should come by the house again, too.

Кусэ — Today at 12:37 PM Be khara... it will be done, esegher.

Артемий — Today at 12:38 PM Boddho caress your step, nookherni. And your partner.

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Grief’s right, I have gone soft. I need to be a little crueller.

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I have problems too. I’m not going to discuss them with men who can’t touch twyre. Our relationship is not as close as they want it it be.

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I never told them to stay overnight. I can’t drop everything and look after them. It’s a matter of triage.

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This is untenable and I just want to hang out with Ashley.

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I want to see Ashley. I want my space back. I want to lock myself in with him and the kids for a while so no one can bother me.

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He’s so fucking clingy. Both of them are. I don’t want to be absorbed into their enmeshment. I don’t want their constant thanks, the “This means so much to me and my brother.” The questions, the favors, the pushing, the way they try to blur boundaries that exist for a reason. I can’t figure out how Grief puts up with it. They’re taking over my whole life. It’s suffocating.

I treat them because I’m a doctor. That’s all. I have to keep my work and my life separate psychologically and that’s hard enough already. If they want to be my friends, they can work on that when I don’t have an active obligation to their safety. Or else this happens. I want to walk onto the steppe and never be seen again.

This is making me forget the parts of my life that are worthwhile.

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I start to tell myself I feel guilty. But I don’t, really. I’m allowed to want nothing to do with this. I’m not refusing them care.