Having been asked about my fears, I thought that I really didn’t recognize fear right now. Something in life’s ordeals had drawn them out and away. Of course that didn’t last long when I scratched beneath the surface. Fears of living left undone, fears of being trapped in a shell and to be merely a burden who adds nothing to another’s life. There is and has been the fear of being resented by my spouse especially. Our relationship began later in life and seemed it barely lifted off before it came crashing down around us. Talk about readjustments!
I mourned. I still mourn the parts of my life not to be revisited. I did not let them go with ease. They were parts of who I m, who I came to see myself as. As I gave up my nursing license and driver’s license in the same year, my “nest” bore the silence of an empty nest. The various types of volunteering over the years that I thought I would have more time to contribute my services to had left me aching. I now had the time, plenty of time…but nothing else that would return me to those stations in life. I mourned the making of music that meant the world to me throughout the years in terms of working through emotion. I missed being a mom but rejoiced in the fine adults who stand before me. I miss being the intimate partner my husband deserved. I deserved. I miss looking and being more than this person that I am now. I yearn for my marriage and at the same time feel the man I miss though here will never be here in terms of who and how we were before. ANd in the times when I see myself slipping, that I feel the right thing to do is to bring it to an end and release him into the life he has yet to vibrantly live. Of course he says that isn’t what he wants. WHo could admit that sort of thing? It sounds so awful on the surface. But in truth it is nature. It is too much that I have to give up so much. It is infuriating to see it happen to him. I know what he does to get himself through it all and it leaves no joy in my heart to know this id so costly to us both.
Now I don’t have the luxury of self pity and woe is me. No time for that, no patience for it. I was a nurse. I saw worse. I know worse is yet to be as well. But the thing is that it is simply life. That’s part of the nautral cycle. It’s part of the perfect imperfection of it all. And there is no place for the why me’s. WHy not me? Plenty have not had the privilege of a life this long, of functioning to the level I did. ANd in some odd way the dialogue with my God goes something on the line of my hoping this somehow will exclude my family, my kids especially from this kind of thing in their lives. I know better than to expect that. I’ve watched the best of bargaining go on in the darkness falling around people and I know there are no deals honored.
I know better than to believe that people are given such things as means to punish. Yet I am somewhat amused to catch myself thinking that I am how it is. seeing karma take what’s hers for the sins I spent upon my time living. I know. I get it. But it IS a natural part of the process of acceptance. ANd for those who feel it is a one way journey, I sadly can say that is not how it works. Like any growth, it is uneven, not without its pain, and on a sliding scale. It’s just how that works. AO back and forth at times. Mostly I work for a level of peaceful acceptance. I work to not give in an inch easily to this condition, these diseases. But I know that I have to do what I think best in terms of my life, while I still can make choices that those around me will honor. Oh I am not knocking on death’s door at this point, not on this day (I believe.) But I do know the incapacity likely to precede all of that. I have no desire to see my husband or kids drained of every financial resource as the dance plays out. To be honest most of the time I try to lose myself in the mundane of taking pills and doing some therapy and caring for the dogs and getting in some light naps. Of reading, of trying to reach out in some way through words. In driving my husband crazy with ideas, with dreams that are just not to be. Looking out of the window at the mountain that I loved, there is a stark emptiness in the late autumn scene with its blanket of snow. The hemlocks look less hardy than last year and a number of oaks have fallen in storms. I allow myself to think of walking again up the side of it. I remember the view from the top. To see over the peaceful river and out onto the miles of woods, broken up by the tiny town below. was a gift. It’s a gift I allow myself to believe if only for this moment that I will again hike up on that mountain just before sunset bathes the land in its glow. Later I will speak of a land more level and of a farm filled with animals who find sanctuary there, with horses for those who need their gentle strong ways in the dance of give and take. I’ve known that it is not the length or even the masses a life reaches. I just pray somehow when the time comes that I will have made enough of a difference to have earned being given the life I was blessed to have. This has been a very open raw piece for me. I hope I haven’t made you readers uncomfortable. or depressed. Instead I hope you take the chance today to do those acts of kindnesses afforded you today. Pay it forward if only a smile or holding a door.As for me I continue to search, to reach out, to dream…and above it all to live.