I did venture forth tonight. To Winco! How exiting. After midnight, the streets clear of traffic. Traveling through west Phoenix into Glendale toward Bell past 59th Avenue, a rush of memories.
Worked for home care nursing agencies for some fifteen years. Many patients seen in the area. Much driving around as far as Sun City. Had a clientele of quadriplegics on service for years. Except for a bit of a stoop, back is fine.
Was thinking... sort of like a restore point for one's hard drive, wouldn't it be nice to wipe away recent outrageous memories? But I have to an extent. I had to stop working because old lifting injuries were aggravated and exacerbated; could hardly move my right arm from dislocations and my back very weak. This would have been April. Well, hydrotherapy, diet and exercise have restored me. I do feel bad I've relapsed some since a certain sadist sabotaged my simple social life, but that's receding just as well. So what would be the restore point? Silly; what about living in the proverbial now!
The thing about going out is I'm always disappointed. It isn't so much not having friends as it's these people are not friendly at all. People I see often enough don't even say hello. I just don't understand. What a bear.
What's that old tune? People who need people? (I won't link to it because it's the epitomy of treacle.) Well... yeah. So, where to meet people? The decadent dives? The strange coffee places? It's unbelievable how alien it all is. I am clueless as to how to proceed.
But I've got my groceries and will hunker down. The contingent isn't lonliness per se (am much used to bring alone) but engendering expectations which never pan out. So why bother? As if anyone cares - which is what got to me, caring for all those people. But I know what I've accomplished and don't need phonies to sustain my existence. Nor inhibit it. The bud indicates hope and promise. This circumstance just shouldn't be.
Heavenly Father, kindly see me through.
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