E Pluribus Confoundum
A field report from the frontlines of long-term love.
A light is dimmed, but not extinguished. We are each a light in our own way. Together we are brighter than alone but we cannot always be together, and even when we are—the winds of life can threaten to extinguish our flames.
She must be depressed. I’ve never seen an illness like this. All the worry and ache and loss is manifesting not just in pain, but in confusion and frustration at feeling physical pain. They physical piled onto the emotional.
She is sleeping 16 out of 24 hours now. Which is fine. I think her body and mind need the rest. And it has only been a week that she has been in this state. She is clearly improving, the meds have done their job, but she seems frustrated that she is feeling bad.
Compounding the problem is bad communication. She isn’t telling me what is on her mind. I have to guess. Or, maybe she is and I can’t hear it. Am I mad? Or is she? Or are we both?
Am I Benny to her Joon? She to mine? We to us?
I don’t know anymore.
I am trying to be as kind and attentive as I possibly can. Making all the grilled cheese she wants and keeping the iron hot.
Or at least the sheets clean and the water-cup full. That is a new achievement: trusted to provide nourishment and cleanliness—neurosis stole those comforts many years ago. Perhaps desperation brought them back.
It’s been thirty-three years. This is new territory. I didn’t know there was new land to be mapped.
It’s like we’ve started a new chapter in a book you thought you knew the narrative of, but in the opening paragraphs all the characters have changed and you’re in a new city.
Only, none of the names are different. Just you, as the reader are. It’s very disorienting. I am reminded of the Mike Tyson quote: ‘everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.’
Maybe that’s all this is. Life’s big, un-gloved hand broke our noses and we are bleary-eyed and bloody, trying to catch our breath. Trying to stay alight.
So, the confusion and disorientation is normal, I just have to keep my hands up and rely on my muscle memory. In a minute, the training will kick in and I’ll—WE'LL be back in the fight.
I’m sorry Rocky—I thought you were being melodramatic when you went down and went down. Taking the glancing blows is different than all of this. I get it now.
Though understanding doesn’t make it any less painful, it’s at least good to remember that it isn’t the end of the fight.
Let your light shine before men, so that they may see your fine works and give glory to your Father who is in the heavens. —Matt. 5:16.
Time to train. Time to unfurl those wings.
Time for the music montage.
WIWL
“The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning.”
— Ecclesiastes 7:4
#essay #journal #memoir #100DaysToOffload #writing #morningthoughts
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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