Story of My Feelings

This in an ongoing series intended to help you survive, when your spouse
goes into insane mode. Probably the most important task is
identification. It's critical that you remain alert to the early warning
signs. Things to look for are: unexplained urgency in tone and actions;
non-stop frenetic and erratic activity; and finally, rising levels of
responsive emotions within the family.

Choices, some easy, some hard
Some with clarity
Some without much thought at all
But all share one unavoidable link
They take us down paths
Which lead us towards
Or away from our dreams
Depending on the power
Of our convictions

Couldn't say it any better, so:

"Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun any more."

Well, something like that, or is it that I've just heard Pink Floyd's "The Wall" way too many times?

How can I begin to find just the right words to lovingly share my deepest feelings, the fears I keep behind hidden doors? Not only will it be hard to say what I have to say, but it will be even harder to hear them. How do you get someone you love to listen with their heart, to stop thinking, or reacting, without throwing up a defensive wall strong enough to repel any words; even if they were launched with laser guided love?

O Sisyphus. Your such a silly puss. You just don't get it. The world just doesn't give a shit. You work and toil. But your life is always in turmoil. No matter how hard you try. Your efforts will never satisfy. The order that you create. Will always, in the end, degenerate. Such is our lot. Our labor will always be for naught.

My girls are terrible at finding things. I've come to realize what is the very first rule to follow when looking for something. Never look in the dark. Always turn on a light first. You'd be surprised how easy it is to see things with the proper illumination.

I can see the pattern so much more clearly now. We don't make decision, she does. Facts, evidence and opinion are either ignored, conveniently twisted, or subjectively determined to fall in line behind her opinions. It makes me feel so little to be in a relationship where my input into decisions is of such little use. What must I do to control the rage that this one-sided relationship creates? How can I ever find ways to bring us closer when I'm always struggling to control my anger?

I have to keep reminding myself. If there is going to be any change in my life, then it depends upon me to initiate action. Everytime I get sucked into negative thoughts and perceptions, there is less probability for change. I have to surrender my pride, and replace it with what I really want. Once again, I'm faced with the opportunity to learn that I am what I think. If I give up on my relationships, then they will surely wilt and die.

Today we heard the sad, sad news that Brother Gonzalo had passed. I've rarely met such a gentle and peaceful man. I barely knew him, but every time I saw him he always made me feel so very special. I'll miss our brief encounters, those unique moments when I felt certain that I was in the presence of the infinite. I'm sad to think that I'll never share that feeling once again, but his journey must be complete. I wish him God speed, I'll see you on the other side Brother.

I'm not sure which is worse. Whether it is better to suffer in ignorance or to find the way. Only to have those closest to you ignore your pleading to look at what you have found.

It happens more than I'd like to admit. I shout out ways for us to
embrace life, only to hear my pleas echo off into infinity. Then as I
see everyone around me continue along with their busy lives, doing
"important" things, I find myself alone trapped within my head; No one
to share my wants or desires, just an empty rubber room to hold my
thoughts.

I think that we forget to live. Our lives become complicated, then they
become full. Before you know it, every moment is spoken for and we fall
into a comfortable routine. As the routine becomes ordinary, we stop
thinking and just start doing. We do and do and do, and that's how
people stop living and begin waiting to die. I say: "Reject the routine,
reject the ordinary, and embrace each moment as if you're not sure what
will happen next. Let every day be a surprise!"

Who would have ever thunk it. A simple man living in a place he could not fit. In a life built upon decisions which he could not quit. Without being exposed as a hypocrite. So he's forced to live in a cesspit. And murmur blessings through lips bit. Holding out hope he must admit. That God will cure his spirit. Praying for answers that will permit. Something meaningful to which he can commit.

What is it about us, that allows fear, pride, and anger to creep into our hearts? Once they're there, they wrap cold dead tentacles around your soul. They strangle out love, and replace it with bitter regret. They squeeze out all compassion, and leave a shallow shell where simple love used to reside. The longer they stay, the further their tentacles grow, until they take over your mind and turn your focus inward. When left too long, empathy dies and you're left alone surrounded by a trail of brokeness and tears.

There are moments in life, when you know that you've really made someone's life a little more special. If you're lucky they can acknowledge that you've touched them. There is no feeling like it, because it absolutely beats the moment when someone has the chance to recognize your contributions but can't.

They look within themselves for the words but can only see themselves. They can only see how your contributions make them look, a measurement of themselves. So in order to sustain their own self image, they are forced to either ignore you or carefully choose just the right words to diminish your contributions. What's worse is when  you recognize what they are doing.

Way back when, I thought it would never end. Wrenching every moment away from the future, in a blinding cloud of drugs, smoke, and alcohol. Nothing mattered except when was the next high, not giving a single concern for tomorrow. Flash forward, and I've built up a life of dreams. If I'm so blessed, why am I drawn back to those memories with such fondness?

I tried to tell you this morning, but when you asked what was up. I fell silent and said nothing. I know that feeling. I know its' emptiness. I know its' cold embrace. How can I ever begin to hold out hope that I can convince you to think of us, when I'm afraid to even speak to you?

Maybe I read too much into things, or maybe I'm just straining to make reality fit my limited understanding of the world, but this is the second time I've come to find meaning in these words:

Kindred spirits moving along the spiral
I can see you up on another level
Its too great a fall
And I cant reach you to pull me higher
But I dont seem to get much closer or any more far

Both times have been when I've been at a crossroads in a relationship. Maybe that's the truth I find in front of me. Which road do I take? Thanks Todd, wherever you are...

It must be the finality of our discussion, but I can feel the void it has created between us. I also felt it as I was driving away from home last night listening to Shinedown's cover of Simple Man. It was all I could do to contain my tears of rage. Now this morning, the void has settled in. I'm guessing that it will take some time and effort to rebuild the bridge that connects S and me.

While we try to deny or anger, to root out our fears, what lies behind
these feelings? Thomas Moore suggests that we must be open to these
emotions, to see what our soul is trying to show us. However, the more I
look, the less I understand. What am I missing?

There are some mysteries that are better left unsolved. But, it's just not in our nature. We  have to know. So we ask for the door to open, then when it does, we usually wish that it had remained closed. I asked for an unequivocal sign, and I got it. I wanted to know, now I do.

Again from Gilman:

"much in life is a matter of perspective. It's not inherently good or bad, a success or failure; it's how we choose to look at things that makes the difference."

Point? Change your (their) perspective and everything changes.

There is a re-occurring theme that spans the last ten years of my life. Some might call that them indecision, other might refer to it as soul searching. I call it my waking nightmare. Bombarded by information, I'm constantly under the attack of something new that calls out for my attention. A new cause, a broader perspective, a new sense of purpose, more "mandatory" research, and on and on it goes, all of which cause to me stutter, pause, and wonder what the hell am I doing? What is it I'm supposed to be doing? Am I doing the "right" thing. Why is so damn important for me to micro-manage what I'm doing?

Harry Gilman said: "No one can snap their fingers and mkae someone happy. What you can do is help people to see what is useful for them to see. What you can do is point and hope they look." A little bit of Kimba Arem, some Xanax, a little nap, and I'm back from the brink.

Why do I feel like such a failure? I look around and see all of the things I should have taken care of, finished, managed, etc., but they all are just reminders of my failures. Sure, this is just my deprssion talking. Can't I just accept that keeping my head above water is accomplishment enough?

The funny thing about depression is how quickly it overwhlems you. Have a bad morning, instant funk. It's hard to shake. Once it appears, it creates its own gravity. It pulls at you, slows you down. Everything works against you, making it all the more difficult to escape its grip. You can throw drugs at it, but they slow you down, just the same. If there's a switch which turns it on, there must be one to turn it off. There's where the true search begins.

What an ephemeral term! Any one living with a chronic medical condition will know exactly what I'm talking about. However, it becomes even more subjective when we try to make decisions that impact the future of our children. How can anyone possibly know what will make the lives of our children have a higher quality? Compared to what?

Up at 4 a.m., just like yesterday. Another day, the same old struggle. In between the massive forces pressing in upon me, I must be getting close to becoming a diamond. They say things are never as bad (or good) as they seem. Could be, but that offers little comfort.

I found this in a book recently: "Nothing is a big deal. It's whatever it is, and then it's something else." For me, that feels like putting on a long lost favorite shirt.

With regular therapy, I'm now able to identify the patterns that indicate bad mental hygiene. I see the early signs of those patterns developing within my children, and it seems like I'm powerless to disrupt the development. I try to layout more effective ways to deal with their emotions, but I fear my counsel lands of deaf ears. They're already becoming used to yelling as the only way to make a point.

This morning S show me her "plan" for, pretty much, the next year of our lives. We're going to stay here, she is going to continue studying, and then get her hip replaced next summer. Then it's on into August and the beginning of another year of school. That pretty much cements things. A will graduate from where she's at in 2½ years. M will graudate from 8th next year, so maybe change is still unknown possible, but at least these things I know.