Miscellaneous Whatever
This is just a bunch of thoughts and feelings from the last few weeks. It's just miscellaneous, but at least it's something new.
2 Weeks Ago:
Took Lora to the emergency room last week. I feel bad because she was with me when her body started convulsing, and I can see the confusion and fear in her eyes, but instead of calling the Dr. or the ER, I just kept trying to calm her down, trying to help her to relax, massaging her legs, telling her that it would pass. Why am I such a megalomaniac? I act as if I know everything. As if I know more than Lora about her own body and why it’s freaking out on her – while meanwhile her spinal chord is being severely pinched by this tumor, which is why she’s in the hospital recovering from emergency surgery. That’s not something that taking a deep breath is going to take care of. Luckily, Lora asked me to call mom, which I did. She called the ER.
Had an odd moment while doing laundry. It’s the first time doing the wash since Lora entered the hospital. She’s having surgery tomorrow, and it could go bad. They’re warning us that there’s a slight possibility she may not live through the surgery, and a larger possibility that she’ll face paralysis of some sort. I’m wondering vaguely as I’m pulling her clothes out of the dryer how much our life is going to change. I’m thinking of people who lose someone all the sudden. Will they face a moment like this? They’re doing something routine…and suddenly they pull out their loved ones clothes from the dryer. Do you fold them? You don’t expect to be doing someone’s laundry that has died…but you didn’t expect them to die, so of course hints of them linger on in normal life. Their voice on the answering machine. A letter for them in the mail. Phone calls that you have to field. Laundry to be sorted, gotten rid of. Their toothbrush. I wasn’t trying to be morbid, or expecting Lora to die. I felt that everything would be okay. I was just wondering how much our life might change in that one day.
1 ½ Weeks Ago:
Have been spending most of my time in the hospital. I’m missing Dan and the rest of my normal life, but know that I belong here, supporting Lora and my Mom. I was home for once, and looking up a song I’d heard while trying to sleep in the Starbucks chair at the ER. In trying to find the song, I found this blog instead, and thought she had a raw, beautiful way of expressing herself: (http://jensworkinprogress.blogs.friendster.com/jens_blog/2006/05/index.html)
Also found this quote there: "To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides" ~ David Viscott. That’s the truth. It feels just as good to love as to be loved. Maybe better.
1 Week Ago:
I'm in a strange mood. It's not unfamiliar, though. I've been here plenty of times before. It's strange because I don't know what to do. I feel a "fight or flight" response all the time and nothing seems like the right answer. I'm standing on the edge of a precipice and feeling like some stereotypical 40-year old man ready for a mid-life crisis. I feel like no matter where I look, I see something to be afraid of, and I can't seem to cope. I'm terrified. Nothing seems normal. Everything's distored and hyper-real, like in a fever. Maybe I really do have GAD (generalized anxiety disorder). I’ve wondered that before, but it eventually passes, and I feel better, and I forget about it and move on. I think contributing to the GAD, I also have a hormone imbalance, which leaves my emotions all scrambled. Lot’s of women get loopy from hormone imbalances when they’re pregnant -- which I’m not, by the way. Jen (Lamont’s wife) has been talking for years about the crazy problems due to imbalance – and it wouldn’t be surprising if I had this problem, seeing as how I have endometriosis and I used to have such crazy/bad cramps that I had to be taken to the emergency room every month for almost a year.
I guess I just rebel against the idea that something I’m feeling could be the result of some chemical or hormonal imbalance. I tend to think that feelings are a representation of reality, and it seems strange that my own mind, my own heart could be sending me messages that aren’t true. And yet, then – why do I fail to trust myself so much? Sometimes I act as if I can’t trust any of my feelings. What a bundle of contradictions. I wish I had insurance, so I could see a doctor and get it sorted out.
This Week:
I’ve decided the answer to everything is love. I know it sounds cheesy, but I really believe it. You know how they say, “Love isn’t enough”? Well, they’re wrong. Romance isn’t enough. Attraction isn’t enough. But Love is. Real love means loving. It means work, and hope, and faith, and charity, and forgiveness, and patience, and acceptance, and time. It means overcoming selfishness and extending yourself for the benefit of others. And it’s always enough. Every problem I have in a relationship has been resolved by love. Real love gives you what you need to have happiness and inner peace regardless of whether the problem is removed or not.
posted by Marci @ 11:28 AM
7 comments
7 Comments:
Very thoughtful and well written. I assumed you were spending time at the hospital, so I didn't give you a "bah"...
Chrissa's just took a philosophy class where the profesor took himself too seriously and was a bit melodramatic (oh, and forced his students to buy his personal philosophy book)--so he's either a megalomaniac or one of those philosphy profesors who wants all his students to be philosophers.
In the same way, all his essay questions were either designed 1) to support his own philosophy or 2) to make you think...since the questions were all pretty, well, philosophical rather than historical. Here's an example: "If science had the capability to perform a brain transplant, and you were seriously injured where your brain was still living but your body was gone--and they put your brain into a comotose person's body, would you still be you?"
It's interesting because it makes you question what identity is and what the mind is, etc.
Chrissa and I had to deal with issues somewhat similar but on a bigger scale at the mental home. It's really ethically difficult to try and convince a Schizophrenic person that they cannot trust their own mind. And it's really sad to see what confusion and self-doubt that can cause.
Most people are probably too complacent with our own minds and what's normal. When something comes along laterally and knocks us off our path--whether it's hormones, an identity crisis, or a life-changing event--I think it instills a lot of fear: "What's wrong with ME?" Or, when grieving: "Why can't I deal with this loss?"
Maybe if we were more open to weakness and the idea that we don't always have to be strong and that there isn't an answer for everything...we wouldn't be quite as de-railed.
It's funny, J: I know -- deep down -- that being "open to weakness and the idea that we don't always have to be strong and that there isn't an answer for everything.." is good and right, (I call it the strength of admitted vulnerability and fallibility), and yet I act on a daily basis as if I don't believe it. I know I DO believe it, though, because whenever someone says words to that affect (including myself), I feel a sense of power, comfort, stability, and light. I recognize them as true, and the words make breathing a lot easier. I just wish they were more my constant companion.
No one should be able to trust that their emotions are real more than you. That is, I think you are very perceptive to how you're truly feeling. Just be careful about how much you analyze instead of letting yourself feel.
I am sorry about Lora. She is an amazingly sweet person. I am glad to hear the surgery went fairly well.
You’re right about love. It is so powerful. Even when we are powerless, love can be strong enough to get us through anything.
By the way, Julare. I didn't call because I'm rarely home and we're out of minutes on our cellphones and went way over minutes last month. But you're message meant a great deal to me. Thank you.
I think I just barely got around to reading this post. For some reason, I thought I'd already read it, but when I was "re-reading" it just now, there was no sense of deja vu. Good post, poignant, somewhat sad, very honest. Makes me hope I can be there for you.
I liked the "reversing your buts" thing--subtle, but effective.
Effective, but subtle.
(See? I learn.)
Thanks so much for the shout out.
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