Monday, May 23, 2005

Burst of Lucidity

You, my readers, know me better than I thought or would have imagined. The comments here on BMNB have been insightful for me as some of you have let me know you have a level of understanding and compassion that exceeds most of my acquaintances in the "real" world. I thank you all and am grateful for the newfound camaraderie and network of support I've discovered through blogging.

A few of you have pegged me for the obvious dodge I've done over the last week with posting very little substance here in a weak attempt to bring my blog in line with the rest of my life. In other words, to sink to a level of emotional and psychological numbness that allows me to succumb to the fog in my mind and heart and pretend I don't have a life of my own to live. I don't think I had realized this until a couple of my commenters called bullshit on me (in a loving and compassionate way, of course) and verbally slapped my inner child on his bare ass. I can run but I can't hide because wherever I go there I am.

I have been ignoring that voice in my head that keeps telling me to wake up and rejoin the land of the living instead of continuing to stumble around in a poor facsimile of every day existence. It is almost like an out of body experience that I have no control over. I am viewing my own life as if I were someone else peering through my eyes. I’ve become a shell of a body possessed by a trapped alien entity who doesn't know how to function properly in my world.

Over the months I have either intentionally or inadvertently distanced myself emotionally from almost everyone I know and interact with. I found myself not wanting to put forth the effort to maintain day-to-day relationships as they were too tedious and I just didn’t have the energy to pull out of my funk long enough to communicate anything of any real importance other than to talk about Charles. Hell, most days I didn’t even want to get out of bed.

I feel like a part of me has died.

The only exception to the distancing has been with my baby sister, Teresa. She and I have grown closer than ever through Charles’ illness. She seems to be the only one I can really talk to about anything and everything in my life. I am grateful for her and am so glad that we’ve discovered each other. The growing relationship we are developing is but another gift Charles has given me.

I have enjoyed spurts and even bursts of lucidity over the months that have carried me through getting my job done and taking care of my family responsibilities. Thankfully, it seems that I am having many more of those lately. Maybe I am starting to find the end of the rope that I can use to pull myself up out of this dark well of anxiety. I just hope that rope is long enough to make it all the way out of this well.

I hope and pray it is strong enough for me to hang on to when I get the final word that Charles is really gone…

9 comments:

Ole Blue The Heretic said...

Lucidity has been kept at bay by me as well.

Kim said...

((((Tony)))) I understand... I'll be here when you feel like rejoining! I know you will be ok.

-E said...

*hug* Sometimes distractions from reality seem to be what we need for a little bit. Sort of an emotional vacation. But it always seems that is when it is hardest to get out of bed too. *hug* If you fear your rope isn't long enough or strong enough, I'll share mine. I am sure many others will as well.

VikiBabbles said...

e said just about exactly what I was thinking to comment while I was reading your post.

Our bodies and minds (and hearts) have survival mechanisms built in. You're experiencing one of them. Allowing yourself to feel all of this, every moment of your life, well, hell, it's overwhelming. You HAVE to shut down a little in order to survive. This sounds trite, but your true friends will still be there when it's over.

It is wonderful that you and your sister are connecting with each other now.

I'm pretty confident that you've always got at least a pinkie hold on that rope. The rope itself is strong as hell, because you are-you just have to either hang on to it, or keep it just within reach.

Part of this, too, is that because Charles is going through an extended illness which you know he will not survive, you are going through all those stages of grief now, rather than after he is gone. I think you'll be surprised by your own strength, the strength of you rope, once you do get the news.

You, your family, Charles; you're all in my thoughts. Peace will come.

Doug said...

It is amazing the way taking care of others works to tend ourselves in dark hours. It doesn't hurt to let your online friends take care of you a little, too.

Tony said...

Thank you all. Charles' time is close at hand and it won't be much longer that he has to suffer the ravages of this horrible disease. He has been an inspiration with his strong will to live beyond the expectations and predictions of the doctors. He's showed them!

Kitty said...

I think of you daily, and wonder each day how things are with you (and how Charles is holding his own).

I'm glad you realized that we were only shouting "BS" and spanking your little bum because we love you!

I pray that you continue to find strength when and where you need it.

Abby Taylor said...

Just checking in... continue to take care.

B said...

We, your readers, understand when you don't write about such things. We only wish that somehow, through the magic of typing, we could relieve some of your sorrow. Trust me, if we could transport ourselves into your heart to snatch some of it away, we would in an instant. You have not disappointed us in any way. And when you go away for a while, we will be here waiting for your return.