February 4, 2008

I attended an FFW Meeting yesterday. Mostly, they are a waste of time -- they go over stuff that I've already figured out for myself, or they buy into stuff that I already know is untrue. In spite of this, though, it is occasionally soothing just to sit there, and not pretend that it isn't happening, or that it isn't stressful. I never tell John when I go. He thinks that they are for the weak-minded. "We're coping," he says. "We're coping beautifully, all things considered." And we are, all things considered. But I feel so alone sometimes, in this Absurdist Horror Movie made real. So sometimes I go to the Civic Center, or some church, or wherever, and I sit and I listen to the reassuring lecture that is mostly bullshit, and I confess with my presence that these meetings are for the weak-minded and sometimes I fit in that category.
Yesterday's lecture was on defense.
"The bad news," intoned the elderly gentleman who was the speaker, "is that there is no absolute pattern that we can trust. Most of us have learned this at some cost." He looked around the room discreetly. One woman was missing part of an arm. There were a couple of downturned, hat-shadowed faces, shiny new scars barely visible. Most of us were wearing long sleeves. "You'd be amazed," continued the speaker, "how many people put complete faith in the mythology." I am not, in fact, amazed by this at all. Once you have been forced to accept the unbelievable, why wouldn't you grasp at any talismans that present themselves? I did. We all did. "When we first recognized this ... this phenomenon for what it is, many of us went to the library, or the internet, or even to the movies. We tried to find information in whatever corners we could think of. Much of what we read has turned out to be useless, or worse. I beg you; do not waste your money or allow yourself a false sense of security based on untested fiction. Why, a friend of mine, who works in the gardening section of Home Depot, told me that she received seventy-two inquiries about Aconite in one week. Wolfsbane," he added when we all looked blank. "And, of course, you might as well plant turnips! Utterly useless." I have conducted my own experiments with this plant (the wolfsbane, not the turnips), and I know that the speaker is at least partially incorrect, but I didn't say anything.
"The moon seems to be the most consistent trigger, although not everyone responds to it in exactly the same way. Some people report severe and debilitating changes beginning as soon as a week before the true full, some experience only mild discomfort in the two days surrounding the night itself. Signs to watch for: thickening of the hair, especially around the eyebrows. Reddening of hair or eyes. Lengthening of limbs. Shortness of temper. Although," the speaker paused for a hearty chuckle, "most of us have been accused of this last, with or without the moon's interference." I did not laugh, although years ago, John made a similar joke about PMS and I did laugh at that. But years ago, this all seemed funnier, and more temporary.
"Silver is no more effective than any other weapon." This got some nervous titters, considering where we live. "But actually, this is good news. There is nothing magical or supernatural going on here. Should you be in a position where the unthinkable is required, you must remember: the basic rules still apply. Arm yourself, prepare yourself, but also remind yourself that you are facing a human being, subject to human weakness. We are not dealing with a mythical beast with mythical strength, and no extraordinary mystical measures need to be taken."
I have been thinking about this ever since. To me, it is not reassuring to think of John's basic humanity remaining intact during his periods of illness. Should I be in a position where the unthinkable is required, I want to be able to think that I am up against something rabid, insane, inhuman, clearly evil. Human may mean vulnerable, which is good, I suppose. But it also means my husband, still there, still himself. How can I arm myself against that?