I woke up in a panic, recovering from a crazy dream. I have been dreaming off and on about Mike. Although the dreams are crazy, elaborate, and cinematic; they seem to revolve around me failing to take care of Mike and/or and the animals. What follows is the damage control - quick decisions, planning, organizing, hyperventilating... What do these dreams mean, if anything? I don't know.
I have been feeling this sense of unease, a sort of disconnect.
I was going through and clearing out the photos on my iPhone and I came across some of Mike. I was startled to see a face void of expression. It occurs to me now that that is what everyone else saw. A shell of a person. There was so much more...
There was a short video, not of Mike, but in the background between the voices I thought I could hear Mike's ventilator. I listened several times straining to hear the familiar whooshing. I never thought I would miss that sound. Today I realize that behind that rhythmic breathing was my anchor. I could stop where ever I was and listen. It brought me back to a slow steady breathing pattern. It kept me anchored in this that time and that space. After a bad dream I could reach over and place a hand on his chest, slow my breathing, and match his rhythm.
So, i guess it is no surprise then that at times I feel lost and disconnected. The rhythm that structured my day for so many years is no longer.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Thanksgiving...
The holiday season seemed to start about a week ago and something felt different. All around me there are rushed, frantic people. The commercials and adds for Christmas started earlier this year. There is an urgency to all the planning, prepping, and organizing.
This year I decided to cook a turkey - for no good reason. Maybe to see if I could (I had never cooked a turkey before) or maybe to do something different.
The morning of Thanksgiving Facebook overflowed with people sharing what they were thankful for. That morning when I stepped outside with the animals to greet the day, a single flower caught my eye. Time seemed to slow as I stood there; and I could see so much more than a single flower, I was in the present moment.
"Accept the present moment and find the perfection that is deeper than any form and untouched by time." ~ Eckhart Tolle
This year I decided to cook a turkey - for no good reason. Maybe to see if I could (I had never cooked a turkey before) or maybe to do something different.
The morning of Thanksgiving Facebook overflowed with people sharing what they were thankful for. That morning when I stepped outside with the animals to greet the day, a single flower caught my eye. Time seemed to slow as I stood there; and I could see so much more than a single flower, I was in the present moment.
"Accept the present moment and find the perfection that is deeper than any form and untouched by time." ~ Eckhart Tolle
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
November 16...
I feel lost and alone, but not necessarily lonely. I have retreated into my shell - it is quiet and private. There is a piece of me that fears becoming trapped in here. I wonder how long I could do this.
I have a small fantasy of someone taking care of me - it sounds so selfish. I just don't have it in me to try hard, to move forward. Sometimes it seems all I can manage is to keep up the house and care for the animals. And honestly, that isn't always the case - the dishes pile up and errands go un-run.
I nap, I sketch, I go for strolls - nothing too aerobic. I feel I should move more, eat less - my pants are tight. The weight that fell off me in my last few weeks with Mike is back with a vengeance.
I don't feel teary this week, just stuck in some stasis mode. There are things I should do, calls I should make. I do the basics and that has to be enough.
The animals and I take long naps - newton purrs and gazes into my eyes kneading the soft flesh of my neck and sometimes my face - ouch. Tehya keeps my feet warm and allows me the occasional hug. Einstein is soft and warm; grateful to sit in the crook of my left arm while we watch another Big Bang Theory re-run.
This is where I find comfort - in the familiar.
I have a small fantasy of someone taking care of me - it sounds so selfish. I just don't have it in me to try hard, to move forward. Sometimes it seems all I can manage is to keep up the house and care for the animals. And honestly, that isn't always the case - the dishes pile up and errands go un-run.
I nap, I sketch, I go for strolls - nothing too aerobic. I feel I should move more, eat less - my pants are tight. The weight that fell off me in my last few weeks with Mike is back with a vengeance.
I don't feel teary this week, just stuck in some stasis mode. There are things I should do, calls I should make. I do the basics and that has to be enough.
The animals and I take long naps - newton purrs and gazes into my eyes kneading the soft flesh of my neck and sometimes my face - ouch. Tehya keeps my feet warm and allows me the occasional hug. Einstein is soft and warm; grateful to sit in the crook of my left arm while we watch another Big Bang Theory re-run.
This is where I find comfort - in the familiar.
November 14...
I feel like I have been in seclusion and I don't mind it. I started to clean out my art room and organized the the items I came across. Bit by bit I have been clearing out some of the "stuff" we had, or rather what I had accumulated over the last 20 years. The process is very slow and if I continue to work at this rate it would take a good year or two, but that idea doesn't bother me today - I have nothing but time.
There is so much stuff in this one room. I started my foray into art less than two years ago. I am surrounded by gel mediums, paints, adhesives, ephemera, text pages, old books, recycled treasures, colorful bits of paper, ribbon and beads...so much stuff.
I feel so tired. I am distracted by Newton - he would like to go out. It is these small distractions both externally and internally that seem to impede my progress.
There is so much stuff in this one room. I started my foray into art less than two years ago. I am surrounded by gel mediums, paints, adhesives, ephemera, text pages, old books, recycled treasures, colorful bits of paper, ribbon and beads...so much stuff.
I feel so tired. I am distracted by Newton - he would like to go out. It is these small distractions both externally and internally that seem to impede my progress.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Sorrow and Joy revisited...
All life is suffering - sorrow and joy. So the more sorrow the deeper the joy? That is a frightening concept. Following that thought - is there joy in sorrow?
I look at the leaves lying on the grass. It is sad they are no longer a green, pliable part of the tree. Or is it beautiful? The yellow-orange color of the leaves contrast against the green of the grass - like natures winter blanket.
As I watch the leaves drop, the branches of the tree are visible, strong and supportive. It is beginning its season of rest. From a human perspective that same tree could be seen as grieving the loss of its leaves.
It is cold and my normally warm-blooded body is finding it difficult to maintain its warm core. I feel sick - I think. Or am I depressed? Is this another form of grief? It seems so strange I can't identify it. Though, I know it's not important what it is.
I wait without expectation. And when I realize I am tense, I remember to breathe. That is my job today - to breathe.
I look at the leaves lying on the grass. It is sad they are no longer a green, pliable part of the tree. Or is it beautiful? The yellow-orange color of the leaves contrast against the green of the grass - like natures winter blanket.
As I watch the leaves drop, the branches of the tree are visible, strong and supportive. It is beginning its season of rest. From a human perspective that same tree could be seen as grieving the loss of its leaves.
It is cold and my normally warm-blooded body is finding it difficult to maintain its warm core. I feel sick - I think. Or am I depressed? Is this another form of grief? It seems so strange I can't identify it. Though, I know it's not important what it is.
I wait without expectation. And when I realize I am tense, I remember to breathe. That is my job today - to breathe.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
One more first...
I have been melancholy and it occurs to me that it may be more than some monthly hormonal fluctuation. More than the subtle changing of the leaves, fewer daylight hours, and the strange warm dry air we've been experiencing. It's November, the election season.
Mike liked the whole voting process. In a way it was his last job. Something he could do regardless of his level of disability. He would get a special audio format of all the state published election materials. And once he had reviewed that materials he would tell me what to mark on his sample ballot. Since our first year together, we had always read and discussed the propositions together. Our beliefs were similar, but we didn't always agree. It was still nice to debate the issues, working to see both sides without confrontation.
This year I received one election booklet and a single sample ballot. I was surprised how up to date the election committee was. It has been 4 months and 2 weeks since Mike's death and I still get Medicare mailings, billing notifications, an odd sales call, an invitation the the ALS ask the Experts conference, and other random things for Mike in the mail. However, the California State Election Board was on it - they knew Mike was gone.
Mike liked going to the polls to cast his vote. We would check in with the volunteer get our ballots. Then we would sit at a table and I would fill out Mike's ballot. Using his sample ballot as reference, I would quietly call out as I filled in each bubble - yes on prop x, no on prop y, etc... Mike's ballot went back into its folder and onto his lap while I completed mine. Then I'd drive his wheelchair to the ballot box - insert his ballot and put his "I voted" sticker on his sweater.
So, on this election day I realized not only would I be going without Mike, Mike was gone and would never vote again. I hoped I wouldn't cry while voting - though I did have moist eyes as I walked through the polling place door.
That night I sat and watched the election coverage as the results came in. I waited until the President gave his acceptance speech - my voting day was complete. One more first under my belt.
Mike liked the whole voting process. In a way it was his last job. Something he could do regardless of his level of disability. He would get a special audio format of all the state published election materials. And once he had reviewed that materials he would tell me what to mark on his sample ballot. Since our first year together, we had always read and discussed the propositions together. Our beliefs were similar, but we didn't always agree. It was still nice to debate the issues, working to see both sides without confrontation.
This year I received one election booklet and a single sample ballot. I was surprised how up to date the election committee was. It has been 4 months and 2 weeks since Mike's death and I still get Medicare mailings, billing notifications, an odd sales call, an invitation the the ALS ask the Experts conference, and other random things for Mike in the mail. However, the California State Election Board was on it - they knew Mike was gone.
Mike liked going to the polls to cast his vote. We would check in with the volunteer get our ballots. Then we would sit at a table and I would fill out Mike's ballot. Using his sample ballot as reference, I would quietly call out as I filled in each bubble - yes on prop x, no on prop y, etc... Mike's ballot went back into its folder and onto his lap while I completed mine. Then I'd drive his wheelchair to the ballot box - insert his ballot and put his "I voted" sticker on his sweater.
So, on this election day I realized not only would I be going without Mike, Mike was gone and would never vote again. I hoped I wouldn't cry while voting - though I did have moist eyes as I walked through the polling place door.
That night I sat and watched the election coverage as the results came in. I waited until the President gave his acceptance speech - my voting day was complete. One more first under my belt.
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