Pain is Inevitable

"Deep unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state." ~ George Eliot

Except for the fact that the sun is shining through my office windows and there are lots of foraging birds and squirrels, it's another grim Monday. I'm not even sure at this point exactly what it is that makes me dread another week at work. Really, every day is pretty much like every other day. I've pushed myself physically in order to be here when no one expected me to show up. I don't even have to be here today. Or tomorrow, probably. Office became a haven from whatever form of breast cancer torture I was trying to get through for the past 18 months. Maybe my reluctance to be here is related to actually feeling better.

I lost another kitty this past week. Mom Kitty, the grandmother of all who came after, disappeared several days ago. She was looking shiny and a little tubby, so I thought it would be a while before I had to endure another loss. I have no idea what happened. It's possible that some other kitty in the colony made her leave. She's been having problems with Ring Tail Kitty for a while now. Mom Kitty used to be able to quell any big ideas by doing her incomparable hateful-kitty look. As she got older, hateful-kitty wasn't as effective. She may have been taken by a predator. The problem with being older and a little chubby is that you just can't move as quickly as you once did.

I'm hoping she's not living here anymore, but still dropping by for food after the rush hour when all the other cats are vying for food. Not that there's any food shortage, but the crowd can probably be a little intimidating.

If I've told myself once, I've told myself a million times that this is just how life is. "Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional." The Buddhist approach to life. I guess I'm opting for suffering these days. I still have my beloved Mr. Swagger, the cowardly Black and White Kitty and his improbable pal Ring Tail Kitty. I now have a large grey and white male who's been recuperating from a foot accident here in the relative safety of the patio. Crazy Cat Lady (aka me) made sure he had access to food nearby so he could stay off the foot as much as possible. I have Mom Kitty's Daughter, she of the beautiful blue eyes and the stand-offish attitude. They looked just alike except for Mom Kitty's white tipped tail. I have four baby kitties (that I need to catch and get fixed). I'm face to face with the inevitable lately. The inevitable never gets easier, no matter how many beings abandon me for death.

I finished up Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides yesterday. It took me forever to get through it. For some reason, reading about people almost dying on the side of mountains has seemed more compelling to me. Celebrating survival, I suppose. A week ago or so, I got really committed to finishing Middlesex. It was worth the struggle to concentrate.

Last night, I started reading a biography of Primo Levy. I became familiar with his work, The Periodic Table not too long after my dad died. For several years after that, I became obsessed with suicide. I read everything I could find. (Although that's just another manifestation of my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, to some extent.) I'm not sure how I became aware of Primo Levy, but he fascinated me. He survived Auschwitz, lived another couple of decades and then, inexplicably, threw himself down the stairwell of his apartment building. He did not survive the fall. How could it be that someone could summon the will to get through a concentration camp only to lose the will when life seemed to be on a even keel?

The answer is clear in some ways. Auschwitz doesn't end for survivors. It just keeps on playing in their heads. More than one therapist has told me that my early life was just as difficult to survive as a concentration camp. If that's true, then I know for a fact that it never ends. Even on my best days, when life seemed full of wonderful possibilities, the past nonetheless cast a deep shadow.

That's just my interpretation, though. It doesn't explain Levy's choice necessarily. It's another one of those enormous tomes that will take a while to wade through, but he was a fascinating man in more ways than that which he chose to end his life. Like every other life, there's plenty to celebrate in addition to the sadness.

Now what was it I'm grateful for today? Right. Just being present. The opportunities to love. Those two are enough to get me through a lot of suffering. Which, by the way, is optional.