In Touch With Feelings? Texts from my Inner Self
On a recent afternoon, busy and content, I glanced out the window and saw that the sky had darkened. I thought, “Wow, it’s about to start sobbing.” Sobbing and not raining. I wasn’t feeling like crying myself, not that I was aware of. Yet I had to wonder: Is this how I’m in touch with feelings that are hiding from me?
Day to day, I feel fine, almost all the time. But twenty months into 24/7 care for my beloved ailing husband Bob, there are certainly big reasons for sadness.
The Little Typist Within
I picture a tiny version of myself deep inside me sitting at a laptop, texting me verbal messages about distress I’m not acknowledging.
The sobbing rain is not the only such “text” I’ve received. For much of my life, I’ve had a peculiar habit of thinking or involuntarily repeating aloud a particular phrase, one of which could dominate for years. The first one I recall was a feeling I hid from myself not only by lack of full conscious awareness, but by putting it in another language: j’ai peur. In French, I have fear, I am afraid: j’ai peur j’ai peur j’ai peur. That one went away long ago.
Tourettes-y Blurtings
I call these repeatings “my tourettes-y blurtings,” phrases that I say without meaning to, either when I’m alone or alone with Bob. Lately two have dominated. One is “I’m so tired.” The other: “I’m sad.” These two only come out when I’m by myself. But most of the time, I’m not tired and not sad. Maybe I’m doing myself a favor by avoiding the full force of sadness. Or maybe it’s somehow a damaging loss. I don’t know.
I was in surprisingly high energy for more than a year of this twenty months. And in this period, Bob moved from walker to wheelchair, so there was reason for grief. I didn’t feel it.
The Danger of Taking a Break
Then months later, this past March, I seemed to arrive at a slightly lower state of mind and body. Paradoxically, it happened after I’d had a sort of break. Bob had been in the hospital and rehab for a total of thirteen nights. I stayed there with him, day and night.
For me, those two weeks were a rest. A medical staff was taking care of him and having the room service “guest tray” meals was wonderful. I slept very well. That changed when we got back home. Sleep again became my biggest challenge.
Hyper-alertness
Apparently I’m unconsciously listening for him, for his needing me, at all times. At home, I was immediately back to insomnia and felt the effects of it more than before. I thought I’d get over this slow-down and return to the top energy that had carried me for so long. But I haven’t. I’ve stayed a little bit slowed, which led me to hire some caretaking help. I now have all the assistance I need. Even so, I’m a little bit slower….
And the Dying Tree
A striking moment: I planted a little larch tree years ago and in the heat of recent summers it has been dying in pieces. Every year, I pruned all the prickly dead branches. Then this past spring, I simply cut the whole thing down. I said to Bob afterwards, “I was tired of watching that thing die.” He said, “You’re watching me die.” A real punch in the sternum, that comment! And from a guy who stays in remarkably good spirits almost all the time. Death watch is not how I think about our good life together. Bob is still Bob and I think he will keep on living for a good while and I’m doing everything I can to make that so.
Stuff That Doesn’t Matter as Much
I’m uncharacteristically cutting myself some slack: for being more forgetful, more prone to breaking a glass or spilling something, more prone to making mistakes. Just noted that I’d sent out a significant email with my name misspelled: Paynw. Didn’t berate myself a bit.
Am interested to see what the next text from my inner self will be.
Peggy
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Tags: 24/7 care, blurting, caretaking help, death watch, feel like crying, full conscioius awareness, full force of sadness, inner self, involuntarily repeating, keep on living, more forgetful, more prone to making mistakes, needing me, reason for grief, start sobbing, tourettes, walker to wheelchair
Comments
Peggy, having gone through it with Jim. I will remind you to take care of yourself too. I understand doing all you can to prolong your lives together… but don’t do it at the expense of your own health. I’m happy to hear you got some help…maybe you need a night sitter?
Maybe a night sitter would allow me to stop my unconscious listening. I’ll keep this idea in mind. Thanks for the good advice, Judy. I know it comes from your long experience.
“Day to day, I feel fine, almost all the time. But twenty months into 24/7 care for my beloved ailing husband Bob, there are certainly big reasons for sadness.” — Amen. Been there, felt that. Blessings on you both, dear heart.
Thank you so much, Brent. You are a pastor to much of the world.
Being vigilant and on hyper alert 24/7 is exhausting and draining in spite of the heart wanting to do so for a loved one. It’s always good advice to “take care of yourself” and friends mean well but the reality is that it’s difficult and nearly impossible to do. Caretaking really requires a team but not everyone has one and might not be able to afford one. In my personal experience I found the day to day approach worked best for me. Looking farther ahead was disheartening. My caregiving journey ended 3 months ago and now requires new challenges and adjustments. Such is life – and death. A different experience for everyone. You’re doing an amazing job and getting help is a blessing. I wish you well in finding a great support team.
I’m sorry for your loss three months ago, Harriet. I hope you’ve been able to get some rest since, but I know that might be very difficult. I do feel fortunate that I’m able to get enough help. A woman who commented here once said that she had never left her house in five years without taking along her demented mother. That sure put things in perspective for me. The day to day approach does work best, I think. I ask myself whether I’ve gotten together everything to do what I need to do and be where we need to be today.
I have been thinking of you so much lately. Not because of my great fondness and good wishes for the two of you, although those are active and sincere. But because my husband who has typically been ridiculously vigorous and healthy has been hospitalized three times this summer with a recently diagnosed heart condition. It’s taken us some time to find a provider that gives us some clarity and confidence and a plan, but we have now. Neither of us is in panic mode, but I feel angrily unready for what this phase of our lives may hold. I have thought so often about your loving grace, fine writing, and solid emotional skills and how well these have served you during Bob’s difficult sickness and pain. Alas, I am at the magical thinking stage where I seem to believe that I can keep Peter well by threatening the heavens with declarations that I will not play nice. I will be an angry, vengeful, depressed, lazy banshee if they think about trying to limit our ( well, my) freedom and make my man into a patient and me into a caregivers. This approach has worked for me at times with more mundane problems and when I was negotiating (ha)with mere humans. But God, Fate, nature, life, time, whoever is calling the shots here is immune to my protests. Did you experience any of this?
Lee, the day before I took on 24/7 responsibility I thought to whoever listens to my thoughts: “Well, don’t get the idea that I’m going to do x, y, or z. Because I’m not going to.” The next day it was as if I’d never had any such thought and I started immediately doing all that was needed as well as I could. And that has continued. And in spite of all the difficulties in the process, it’s a pretty satisfying thing to go all out keeping your guy alive and himself and as healthy as possible.
I imagine your experience raising children will help tremendously. Not having taken care of children, I had a lot to learn. Still do. But we’re paddling along pretty well.
I’m sorry you and Peter are going through this. I hope the plan and treatment work well and this set of problems fades away. Also, thanks for the kind words about me. Feels good.
“…. and I started immediately doing all that was needed as well as I could, and that has continued”
That’s love, Peggy and love. Will keep you doing whatever needs to be done until it doesn’t need to be done done anymore.
Thank you and again I think you know this from long experience.