Watching Ray Donovan last night and his wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer and he wouldn’t accept it and let her quit on finding a cure. I recently had a chat with my kids mum about the indignity my mum’s father went through when he had total renal failure and was happy to die, but my Nan and mum wouldn’t let him and coerced him to go on dialysis. He had daily dialysis sessions at home and became a miserable old bastard until he died two years later. At the time I thought it was fair that they made him stay alive for another couple years, but now with the veil lifted it really saddens me – to spend your last years with such indignity.
I went to visit my Nan a couple decades later in her nursing home and saw all the people waiting to die in the lounge room. It was an expensive nursing home, but still smelt like piss. This will happen to me, I thought, I will spend my last years withering away without dignity because of this human will to live, it’s unavoidable, the instinct that makes us survive also makes us die miserably. Ahhh, I am different, I am a heroin addict.
I thought about my Nan’s two hip replacements. I am not surviving even one hip replacement in my 80’s I will be stoned as fuck, pinching the nurses arse and go out peacefully in an opium haze. Ok, so there is a silver lining to being an addict.
Now I sit in an apartment overlooking the city of Warsaw and I could die happy tomorrow. I have lived a wonderful life and if I checked out into the darkness tomorrow that would be fine. I don’t care if there is life after death, it would be interesting if there was, but I have zero interest in such a riddle while I am alive. I don’t want to die, I am as happy and fulfilled as I have ever been, and to be honest the thought of death does conjure up a bit of fear, but at 42 I feel like I have achieved everything I need to.
I suppose I have replaced God with evolutionary biology and I feel I have done my part. I am the evolution of my genes and I have produced three beautiful children, they are only 7, 10 and 13, but I have already given them everything they need. Their early years have been so much better than mine were and they have been allowed to develop enough self-esteem and empathy to develop their own personal values as they grow up. I don’t think I would have so much peace if I didn’t have these offspring, maybe it is ego, but I think it is more a deep calling from my genes to replicate and thrive that use ego as a tool.
When I was in my late 20’s I was hell bent on having a child. I had 3 girl friends pregnant and have terminations in my late teens, early twenties and become a stepfather and figured I was a pretty good dad. I wanted one of my own. My girl friend (step daughters mum) agreed to have a baby with me and every time we fucked I imagined fertilizing her. She got pregnant and we had a beautiful baby boy. I was thrilled to have replicated. The next two pregnancies were less exciting, but after the babies reached 6-12 months I grew very fond of them and paternal. One year, when the youngest was one, and I had separated from their mum, I had had them stay at my house nearly every night.
Now the youngest was 7 and I had very little desire for any more kids (but still enough to not yet get the snip). I am so proud of the kids I have. They are so much happier and adjusted to life than I was. I am so proud of myself (and their mum) for raising them and producing such perfect people. If I die tomorrow my kids will be fine. They have everything they need. There is really very little I need to do. I could die tomorrow happy.
Red Pill Recovery 