There are many things I can't talk about in this blog. God forbid I tell the truth about some things. God forbid I risk the wrath of being further alienated from certain people who continue to use me as a scapegoat. Being sick and cognitively challenged makes if difficult for me to fight so I try to back away from arguements. I hate them. They drain my energy and deplete me. I hate when people refuse to stop when I say I'm too tired to do this anymore. Not to mention that fighting stresses my adrenals and that I am unable to think very clearly.
It's quite risky for me to be blogging today because I'm so at my limit with things that I would just like to spill the beans and tell all.
I'm filled with a deep grief and a profound longing to get out of this place. The summer held promises of more contact with family, reconnection with friends. Unfortunately nothing has panned out. I am trying so hard to ease my sense of isolation and loneliness but my efforts seem futile. I fear there is something basially unloveable about me that makes people turn away. I have made mistakes. Maybe my emails have sounded strange or maybe I haven't been the most timely in my response. I don't think people understand the difficulty of composing an email for people like us. When I'm writing an email I have to search my mind for the right words and often end up using one that doesn't quite fit but its the best I can do at the time.
But emailing isn't what I wanted to talk about. That's for another blog post. I get how difficult it is for anyone to be in relationship with someone who has this illness. The back and forthness of communicating via email gets unbalanced because when one's energy is completely drained by the simple activities of daily living there often isn't energy to also compose an email. I try to do my best at responding in a timely manner but I'm not able to keep up with a fast paced society that expects quick responses.
But to sit back in silence and gossip and judge and get angry at someone who is this disabled is plain unfair.
I feel like I have to put up with things that are intolerable because I'm sick. It's as if I feel I've lost my rights because I have become disabled. Certain people reading this will disagree and think "what is she talking about? I email her. I'm in contact. God she expects too much." No actually, you don't. Let's see I've seen my dad for a total of 4 hours in the past two years. I've had maybe 3 phone conversations. I get no response to my emails, especially if I talk about the difficulties of this illness. How dare I not be positive. His wife? Well, she's a good person and I like her but she has made zero attempts to have any sort of personal relationship with any of us and that makes me sad. I best stop here. Better to pretend everything is good and fine and that I'm actually part of this family. The truth is I'm not. I'm on the periphery. I know what the excuses would be-that I've said its hard to talk on the phone. Well, it is but that doesn't mean don't ever call. I've made mistakes. I've tried to apologize. I've tried to reconnect. I miss them. But I think its time to accept what is and let myself grieve for what will never be.
I wonder where God is and why I can't feel his presence. I long for that. I have been searching for a spiritual practice that works for me. I want a deep sense of spiritual connection. I'm coming to realize though that my spiritual practice just might well be this illness. It has brought me to my knees. It is likely that it's my greatest teacher and cruelest therapist.
To be fair not everyone has turned away. Two people have remained in contact when they can and I am deeply grateful to be part of an online community.
Perhaps today's mood was set off by events last night. Or another night of fitful sleep. Most likely it was triggered by a dream I had.
I dreamt I was in with a large group of people but I felt isolated. There was a sense of feeling trapped in a potentially dangerous situation. I think I may have been around with kids who in the juvie system. There was a sense of chaos. I was alone trying to figure a way out. Suddenly Bobby appears. I'm surprised to see him because I know he is dead but here is is in front of me-dead but alive. He looked like he did when he was sober. I rushed up to him and threw my arms around him in a hug. He didn't respond. I back away and he was just looking at me not saying a word. I said I heard you relapsed on heroin but he just looked at me. I became frightened and wondered if he was a vampire but I was so glad to see him I didn't want to leave his side. I kept following him through the chaos. He never said a word just stared at me. It was as if he couldn't communicate with me.I woke up out of this dream missing him intensely. It set loose all the stored up grief I've tried to stuff down. I've spent most of the day crying.
I didn't go to his memorial. It would have been too much for me physically. Partly I didn't want to go because I didn't want to hear more stories of how he was in the end. The newspaper articles painted a grim picture. His death was horrible and brutal. He was strangled, stabbed, and bludgeoned to death. Sometimes I find those images starting to make my way into my mind and I have to stop them. I'm glad that at least in my dream he looked healthy. Like his old self.
And then there is one of my kitties who is slowly getting worse from the cancer. Mammary duct cancer is aggressive. It has broken through her skin creating an abcess. She is on antibiotics. The other thing is the cancer often spreads to the lungs so the vet said to watch out for her coughing and stuff. Yesterday while napping I awoken to the sound of her coughing. It broke my heart and I cried myself back to sleep.
I think that's it for now. It's scary putting this stuff out there but I have to.
You know what is troubling? My story is not unique by any means. This is the story of people who have a severe chronic illness (though not everyones story by any means-some people deal with this much more gracefull and skillfully than I). I'm still in the phase of getting used to it.
Hmm.I just found this quote:
This limbo-which lasted for twelve timeless days-started as torment, but turned into patience, started as hell, but became a purgatorial dark night, humbled me, horribly, took away hope, but then sweetly-gently, returned it to me thousandfold, transformed.