This Is Where I Am Today

Author's Note: Oh dear readers. SO much to say. To write you. But where to start? There is no end, so far. Problem is, I get so overwhelmed by emotions I'm not sure WHAT or WHEN to write. This blog has become my lifeline to all of you, yet to write what I feel can sometimes be a major bummer while also being cathartic.

There's this blog, the novel, my personal blog, my journal, and random thoughts which pop up while driving a bus (often forgotten unless I write them down at a time point when I'm early but that's a rare occurrence nowadays).

FromTheDriverSide has been both a blessing and a curse. It induced me to write often and with extreme passion. Nearly lost me this job I'm sure, on more than a few occasions. However, it reminded me that while I may be an awkward conversationalist, I have much to say. I've always endeavored to speak UP for my fellow transit workers, without disparaging any yet opening the world's eyes to our uniform dilemmas.

The past two years it has been very difficult to put the words down. Just writing about it came to fuel my PTSD. This condition nearly ruined me, yet I always find a way to keep rolling. We have seen the worst of times for over two years now, and life keeps zipping past like an old time movie reel. There's not enough time to accurately describe the myriad of emotions engulfing my soul at this given time.

Although the Rona has been prevalent on our minds, life keeps hauntingly moving on regardless. Marriages, births, deaths, retirements, graduations, promotions... they have all blended together because I have been numb to the best and worst of times. It feels as if I have cheated myself from the good because I spend so much energy insulating myself from the bad. It's difficult to come out from the shadows and say, "Hey, this is a wonderful moment, I should be celebrating!"

Then, I see a bit of news. Russia murdering Ukraine. Another mass shooting. Gas prices nuking inflation. Decent people degraded for what they believe in, regardless their flavor. I only hope that whoever reads this knows that I respect you, no matter your color/politics/gender/sexual anything/religion, etc. We're just a few in a sea of eight BILLION worker bees in a colony overseen by grotesquely rich people who care naught for US. How we have become so divided is beyond me. We should not be fighting ourselves, while THEY enjoy it so immensely.

My stand in this world is tenuous, at best. Fragile, given my increasing age and decreasing earning capability. All I have ever known is that I love people. So many of you I can't begin to count. I refuse to segregate you into groups or divide y'all by any type of differentiating algorithms. I love you for who YOU are, or I wouldn't have begun writing this. I feel a lot of pain on my job, see many humorous situations, and hear your stories. It would be easy to be Clintonesque in saying "I feel your pain", but that would be arrogant. We feel our own daily pain, topped off by personal history. It is not my place to attempt describing what you feel; it is only relevant to tell you what lies within this simple soul.

Dan felt we were there
to celebrate his birthday,
but his condition was grave.

My own life is a conundrum of emotions. My baby brother Dan, the Special Olympics Champ of our family, lies dying of rapidly-progressing dementia in Arizona. Somehow, I was graced with the chance to help Dan celebrate his 59th birthday, even though it was questionable whether he knew what was happening. My daughter was married in April, and her son (my grandson!) just graduated high school. It is so marvelous to have experienced the best of times even though a dark cloud lurks just beyond. I had the delicious opportunity to enjoy ALL four of my brothers for a few excellent days. Even those wonderful moments were tainted by a painful experience not appropriate to describe here.

Unfortunately, all our ups and downs are not blissfully celebrated in bed.

On my first vacation of this year, I did what many bus operators do (yet few of us realize the irony) and drove 3,000 miles in 10 days. Then immediately after returning home I regained the operator's seat of a city bus and drive another 400 miles. Fighting a severe Arizona allergy-induced sinus infection, I braved the rigors of my profession only to find that age has dulled my ability to quickly bounce back.

Although it galled me to do so, I called in sick today. My body had no more reserves to rely upon. To drive a city bus today in my condition would have put many lives at risk, and that is something I hope anyone reading this can understand. It's better to limit oneself at the risk of ridicule than to push beyond the limits of silly macho desire to prove something too dangerous to fathom. I'm glad I made the right choice.

I spent the day, after sleeping nine hours, prone on the couch. Enjoying the bliss of Beloved, resting my back, hips and legs. Restoring my body's need for proper nutrition and hydration. Even the tips of my toes hurt, not to mention my head and all in between.

The professional in me felt guilt for not gaining the seat out of pure determination; the personal side of me simply told me to shut down. I know my limits. It's a good thing I listened to my soul urging me to rest. Too many of us in transit are trained to ignore our bodies' need for rest and do what the agency bids us to: drive until you die. Sorry, Management: I simply R-E-F-U-S-E.

Here, at 1:35 in the morning. I meant to write to myself in ye olde journal. So much to describe of this strange hallucination I'm living. Maybe I will tomorrow/today. The urge to explain what it's like to be ME naturally led me here. To a blog so few read today, compared to just a year ago. But hey, here I am again like a habit which cannot kick itself. Hopefully I still connect to a few actual readers. Thanks for taking the plunge again, folks.

Like I wrote earlier, there is SO much to say. About the job, that is. I'll get to that soon enough. Meanwhile, this is where I am tonight. Can you dig it?