Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

The truth is...

From my father, I inhereted FAP/Gardners... It's also possible that from my father I inhereted "midlife" heart problems, since his older brother and his father both died of heart attacks at the age of 62.  Considering that my father died from cancer of the Colon/Liver at the age of 34, we can't know if he would have developed heart problems in the following decade of his life...  

Thinking about my past history and my present situation, I can't imagine just how much stress family events, school histories (struggle with peers/bullies) and the inheretance of my father's illness along with the preventative surgeries placed upon my heart... Considering that much of the issue of my heart problems today are related to reactive hypertension (hypertension caused by momentary situations) and lack of sleep (especially during the fairs or years earlier when I painted or read until wee hours of the night) I can imagine that the 20 years of horrible insomnia in childhood and early adulthood along with the horrible homelife situation of childhood and the interpersonal conflicts of adolescence and early adulthood combined with the incredible stress placed upon my body by the preventative surgeries caused irreparable damage to my heart and we don't really need to talk about this anymore... As I've said earlier:  I have the body of a physically fit 46-year-old and the heart of a 72-year-old... 

It's tired... and truthfully, I don't know how much I can do for preventing its failure...  When I say that it is tired, I can feel its tiredness in the center of my chest.  Need I say more?

The other day a friend of mine asked me if I am painting... This friend of mine, Raul, is an artist the age my father would have been had he lived...  He also has heart problems.  But he is 30 years older than me... Another friend of mine, José Luis, Raúl's younger brother, also an artist, also has problems with his heart at least 20 years now... a pacemaker was suggested 20 years earlier and has never been placed... He's a healthy and a happy 69-year-old "schizophrenic" (Bruce and my mother had dinner with him in Puerto Vallarta a few years back)...  I responded to Raúl that painting causes too much stress... He replied that many people use painting for escaping stress.  I acknowledged that use back in NYC 15 years ago.  But, then suddenly, when people started suggesting my selling the paintings with the focus on painting as a measure of personal success or that possibility, painting became stressful.  At this moment I'm trying to avoid anything that raises my blood pressure.  So, I avoid painting... and I avoid writing in this blog...  

I'm writing today because I must respond to histories, experiences, perceptions, perspectives, all that I  "published" on this blog and all that I didn't write or say...  What will be left behind when I leave all behind... What people will be reading about me when I am not here to explain what I truly meant for them to understand...  the truth...  The truth is... that it really doesn't matter... that they read basically nothing... Afterall, I could never put it all down on "paper" in a way that I truly understood my life... and it really doesn't matter.

Where are all of the major "players" in this history?  DEAD.  Everyone dies... and they leave behind memories that gradually fade.  And the funny thing is that those memories began fading even before they died... Much of my memories have faded too, making writing the stories or the better histories or the experiences, thoughts and feelings and how I relate to all of the "players" obsolete...  I didn't become an "important" painter or writer or chef or thinker... I didn't become a father.  I'm only an important person for Margarita and her family... for myself... a little more than a quarter part of my life.  That's important.  Very important.  But not important enough for maintaining this blog...  The rest of my life (the other almost 3/4 part of it) and the people who existed in that part became obsolete when I left New York City for Mexico and never returned... Why write about it..?

The truth is that I only have time or energia for salvaging of my life what I can with/for Margarita...  Today on is about tomorrow with Margarita... or about leaving her behind when my heart can't withstand more...  It's a strange thing.  But a reality we live... anothing more... not a reality we "lived"... Lived is past and past is dead and a memory fading into oblivion...  At these moments, all we have is now and the future we anticipate.  A "five-year-plan"?  But plans all the same...  I must plan with Margarita... I must plan for a Margarita without Ross...  I'm hoping that there is still "adequate" time between the with and the without.  But, at this moment we are day to day...  Maybe tomorrow I will feel better and strong and healthy... enough to have the illusion of being able to plan for a longer future... But at this moment I don't have that luxury...

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