I Suppose

Self-actualization is the profoundly absurd belief that I will, in knowing myself, become whole. Essentially I will become whole by pursuing myself until I catch me. It is an elitist belief born out of  the ennui of too much of a good thing. 

Who are you?

For one reason or the other I felt, two nights ago on my way home, an apprehension I know well from times past. My heart sank a bit and I thought to myself that I wished I did not have to go home with him which was quickly followed by a louder thought reminding me that no one lives at my home but me. It has been a long, long time since I felt that quiet dread of coming home with him there and not one of the times was there an actual him. I did not feel afraid. I felt a heaviness and hopelessness. Every time I have thought that thought I have also felt a sense of inevitability. A sense of destiny not my own, never my own. Twice in the past week I have heard a light knocking on my front door. No one is there or within view. I have fallen once and cut a small vein on my heel that bled profusely

I don’t understand nor do I welcome the return of this kind of mystery in my life. I conclude that something has disturbed the ptsd I have remaining. I cannot think of what could have happened. Once commonplace these moments are rare in my life now. Writing has helped me place myself in the here and now. I will pray and ask the Holy Spirit if this time is for me or someone else. I shall ask for wisdom and thank Him for His protecting me from harm. I don’t have to chase every thread or solve each mystery. I will rest well tonight.

Tilting In The Wind

I have sat on the bottom of a swimming pool for a short time. Sounds were muffled, vision disoriented, time seemed shortened. My mind felt briefly transformed, my lungs demanded oxygen, I rose to the surface and grabbed a breath of fresh air as I surfaced.

I have found myself emotionally stretched far beyond the limits I believed I could endure. I found myself sinking to the bottom of the despair removing myself from the intensity and taking a moment to look around as I dispassionately chose to remove myself from the pain of existing in the fray. When I returned I drew a deep breath of fresh air free of the emotional chaos. I returned cloaked in the protection of someone else. I was born to endure and survive. I led myself to safety away from the fray protected to emerge another day.

I have, at times, been a voyeur to the pain and suffering of others. I began to run towards them to ease their pain and was stopped in my tracks by the knowledge of my inadequacies. I watched silently not  moving a muscle though I travelled at the speed of love. I was suspended in a time and place existing between myself and the one who was suffering. I reached towards them crying out for their release from suffering. My cries were captured in the distance between us. I surrendered. The space between us vanished. We sat quietly together both worn and tattered yet somehow sustained by each other.

I am a stranger here. Loyal to the calling yet listening to every sound with a tremble of fear. I am bound by the love that binds me and from all the losing of myself I am made whole. Far away I hear the steady rumble of a battle coming, coming, coming. I hold my breath prepared to run and destined to stand. I surrender to the calling. I am no longer mine. Love has redeemed me. Memories flash through my mind one after the other. I was born for such a time as this though I am weak but by love made strong.

I Stepped In A Cake Pan

Living in an emotional bubble clouds my vision, steals my balance, robs me of sleep and causes me to step in the middle of a cake pan laying on my living room floor. Why? Refer to "emotional bubble clouds my vision". This cake pan was nestled in the top of several other baking pans. They slid out from under me and I, fortunately, fell onto a nearby chair. 

I have fallen more in the past three months than I have fallen in my entire life. I simply am not aware of my physical environment. Well, I am not aware until I find myself moving through the air towards the floor or the ground or, if lucky, onto a nearby chair. Each time is a complete surprise. That thought could go unsaid as only trained professionals plan to fall. I am not a trained professional of anything that comes to mind at this moment.

I am not as young as I once was and reporting I am falling more now frequently illicits raised eyebrows and pointed questions from medical professionals. How do I tell them that I am in a bubble, lost in thought, lost in the absence of the rigors of long term caregiving, lost in grieving my husband's death and clumsy by nature. I lose them at my first attempt to explain. I think they are just waiting for the magic number of falls to qualify me for concerned confinement. Maybe I am dramatic. Maybe they are not even raising their eyebrows at my situation. Could be they have a loose eyelash or are thinking of someone in a genuine pickle? 

Nah, the world is all about me! I am visible to myself.  Hyper-aware of my needs and acutely aware of the need for fulfillment. Maybe that is why I fall and step in cake pans and trip over boxes, cords and the edges of other stuff lurking on the floor. With my nose firmly planted in my navel as I yell, "Hello in there!" The first three letters of Hello echo back. "Hell, hell, hell!" and then silence. Who is speaking to me from my navel? I think they must see my needs and want to meet them. Sadly all the evidence points to the contrary of any caring someone echoing back to me from my navel.

Moments like the ones I have taken to write this post give me a startle. What on earth lives in my grey matter that allows this drivel to flow with ease? I suspect whatever resides in my belly button is causing me to fall.. Someone is responsible and I am confident it is not me!

Following The Thread

Robert passed away on July 17, 2019. He was sick for a long, long time. He was terminal. We knew he was terminal long before he died. I was his primary caregiver. He lost ground slowly. The brain cells seemed to be dying individually. Changes in Robert came and went varying in intensity. I believed he was dying on several occasions. He would rally back and time would begin the inexorable march towards the end. We learned to live with that knowledge without discussing it or staring at it. Yet, the waiting hung in the air shadowing every conversation of "when" or "next year". The years came and went bringing a false sense of permanency as time passed. The day came when we were no longer able to handle the need for care and the caregiving by ourselves. Our world, so private and veiled before, became an open book to health professionals, aides, social services and friends. Unbelievably private in my own home I let go of my distaste for people in our space and flung open the doors to the care of strangers who became like family to both of us.

One day the inevitable became the reality just around the corner. The next day the reality fulfilled the diagnosis and Robert died. There are prettier phrases I could use but the truth is that Robert died. I was in shock. How could he go without me? "Wait", I wanted to shout! After all we were doing this together and now he was gone and he did not take me. I was angry. I was confused. I stuffed all those conflicting feelings and did what I always have done in my life. I told myself and everyone else that it was a long time coming. We finally came to the end of our journey together. No funeral. No dwelling on the present reality for me. I began moving on, or so I thought.

It is almost seven months since Robert walked out on me. Seven months since I realized I was left behind. I have had many amazing moments since Robert died. Reconnecting with family and having the freedom to begin looking at my own life are great freedoms. Many times I hear Robert call my name just as he did when I was his caregiver. I have even felt the presence of more people than Robert in our home. I do not believe it is anything hocus-pocus. I did at one time. Today I understand that my smiles and my pretenses of moving on are haunting me.I am in grief. Predictably, I thought I had missed the grieving part. Robert and I grieved together. I believed the grieving we did time after time left me with little to grieve when he died. I was wrong.

One day I realized that I needed help. I was here but not here. I was living in a world of alarming disconnection with the actual world around me. I wanted to isolate. I wanted to call people and tell them that Robert was dead as if it were a shock and they did not know it yet. I resisted the urge to call and scream into the phone that Robert was dead. Did they know? Could they see the absence in my heart? Was I as invisible as I felt every day?

I joined a grief support group last week. I joined it out of fear that I could not find myself on my own. I left that group feeling hope, apprehension, anger and ambivalence. I will go back. I need to know that Robert is gone. He died. I need to understand that in my heart of hearts and to join myself to this world I live in today. I am afraid and I am not convinced that I can handle the truth. Well, I cannot handle the truth by myself. God will use these people to reach me. I did not get to leave with Robert. I have a purpose here for now. I have a heavy heart. I am lost and waiting for direction. I am alive.