Tragedy

My phone rang again at 3am for the second time. Upon answering it I heard the frantic voice of my sister yelling "Mom is dead! Mom died! You need to come home." At first I was silent and then the yelling began. I made her repeat it over and over to me. I wanted to shake her shoulders and force her to stop lying to me.


Mom? Not Dad. Dead?

I hung up the phone. Every part of me was shaking. I could barely move. I dialed the one person I knew who was awake at that hour who would drive me 50 miles to the country. I couldn't say the words because then it would be true. He said he'd be there immediately.

I started packing a bag. I was going through my laundry and couldn't figure out what I needed. I was standing in the middle of a pile of clothes on the floor clutching a dirty shirt, half naked I collapsed with my head pressed to the floor on my knees and sobbed uncontrollably until I heard the knock on the door.

She had a massive heart attack unexpectedly. It was either from the stress of dad or from her recent bronchitis, or both. No one will ever know.

My whole world has changed. I miss my mother more than words can express. Oddly I feel strong. I break down from time to time and I have this deeply calm sadness within. My world is paused right now.

I fear entering the real world again. Wondering what sort of challenges the neglect of this past week may have set me up for.

One thought that keeps popping up in my head is that my little brother was the only one home with my father and had to do chest compressions for 15min before help arrived. She was gone before then and there was no way to help, but I can see the torment of that moment playing over and over in his head. I see him retreating inside. He's so young. I hate that he had to have that memory and has to somehow figure out how to processes what happened on his own.

I find myself feeling the sadness of everyone and I haven't had a chance to feel my own.

Dad is doing so much worse since then and he's aged physically by 20 years. All my siblings know that we will soon be our only family. I've been an adult for quite a while now, but now I'm on my own.

It was my mother’s final gift. Her death allowed us to step up and come together and it made my father feel ready to pass.

So much sadness seems like it would be too much to bear. But, somehow I'll make it through this

Goals

I just had a really good conversation with a friend of mine who is relatively adept maintaining unbiased opinions about where I am and what's happening in my life. I realized that having open communication with everyone in your life is essential for maintaining sanity.

When I left his company and went back out into the world I quickly incorporated it into every avenue of my life.

I established a relationship with a personal banker at my bank and I asked for help. I've always been terrible with the concept of banks and numbers printed out in list format. He worked with me on how to manage my finances better, something I realized I wanted more then to have fees dismissed. I wanted to figure out how to not get into the situations I've been getting into financially.

Then I spoke with a few people who have been pending on my list of frustrations and worries. We talked candidly and worked things out.

A new friend of mine told me that he found it fascinating how I throw myself into challenges, always pushing for improvement; self or otherwise. And that's honestly how I want to live my life. I've found that finding the solution to problems isn't the goal but the strength and knowledge gained in finding the solution is. Dancing around issues causes the crazy to happen internally. I absolutely love talking bluntly and to the point. When interactions are transparent I feel calmer inside.

This morning I awoke to a mind of unrest. I felt weighed down by the troubles in my life to such a degree, that I wanted to hide in my bed for long enough of a time that the things might disappear. I've learned that ignoring problems only makes them compound until you're basically, please excuse the language, fucked.

I'm a strong person. I know this. I've worked hard to be this way.

The Decline

I see and interact with death every day. I see the slow decline of health and I watch the strong become non responsive and weak.

He's the strongest most stubborn person I've ever known, and now I'm forced to watch as he wastes away. I feel like I'm not saying anything new. That I'm not the only one to have ever gone through something like this. It's so present in my life right now though.

His skin looks translucent. His white hair is a brilliant shade of wall primer. I can't look away from the slight shaking of his hands. His sentences trail off and his points are never fully made. All I can do is absorb everything. I'm unable to make judgments. I feel numb, still and sad as my wide eyes take it all in as if in a perpetual state of shock.

His shoulders are hunched. He’s softened around the edges and he moves so incredibly slowly. This was the man who used to lift couches with ease and was the only one who managed to pull my drug induced enraged and violent older brother off my mother years ago.

As I sit here and type this he calmly lays on the couch making a strange wheezing/moaning sound I'm not sure he realizes he's making. I know he's in pain. But he refuses to admit it or tell anyone. He reminds me of a stoic golden retriever still trying to wag its tail as it painfully limps up the stairs.

Escape

Leaving work early with the kindness of my co-workers; I drove, distraught, to the Emergency room. My father had been coughing up blood for several weeks. He hadn't mentioned it until the volume was significant. The oncologist insisted that he go.

When I arrived, I sat with my parents and struggled maintaining my strength. I quietly listened as the conversation stayed light and I watched as the fear shimmered like disturbed puddles of water  over my fathers face. When my mother thought no one was looking I saw the depths of sadness fighting to break free flash in her eyes. She told me that she doesn't cry for fear of the damn breaking.

Five hours later I was exhasted. We had no answers but they released him, only to return for chemo the following day. As I was driving to my friends' house for a drink, I had a lit cigarette between my fingers. I'd only taken one drag when the sobbing started. My heart. It felt like it was going to burst. I couldn't stop the hurting and the weird animal sounds escaping my contorted mouth only made it more severe. The cigarette burned to the filter without another drag.

I was quiet when I arrived at the house. Then we decided to go work out.

When I arrived at the foreign gym I was drawn to the elliptical like it was a life line.   I dropped my jacket on the floor and clamored on. The awkwardness of my feet slipping, my hands searching for a comfortable place and the sporadic beating of my heart is always frustrating. My mind was  a swirling vortex like the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. 

Slowly I fell into a rhythm .  I felt my body come alive. The back of my mind observed each muscle group sliding and straining. The rest of my mind was still. I felt the beads of sweat tickle as they glided down my skin. I felt my lungs burn in that pleasant way. The half hour passed so quickly I went for more. An hour later my legs felt like jello. I thought I felt the floor shifting beneath my feet.

I felt better.

Doctors and Subs

There's a doctor in the clinic that everyone fears and avoids. Everyone that is, save me.

She is quick to anger, has very particular ways of doing things, requires complete control and becomes overwhelmed easily. She hesitates to trust any of the techs and she can cut a person to the quick with a single word.

When she first started working at our clinic I asked her why she had chosen the method she had on a certain case. She was instantly angry and ordered me to do as she asked. I almost started crying. Almost.

Later I explained that I was simply trying to learn from her and wasn't questioning her competence. She has many years of experience in the field. With that comes many archaic ways of doings things. However, there is often and ebb and flow to the field where the old is tossed out and later found to be the correct way to do something.

She terrifies me. I hesitate to do anything before she tells me too and I have to handle her with kid gloves when asking anything.

Yet, I'm fascinated by her and feel drawn in. I'm compelled to figure her out. Maybe it's the challenge. Honestly, I'm not sure what my motivation is.

Today she actually wanted me to accompany her in surgery. We were in there all day. She started explaining things to me. We chatted about personal stuff. She told me about how much the field has changed. She was one of 17 women in a class of 80. She even cracked a joke or two!

I love trying to predict what she'll need next. I am starting to figure out her moods and what her body language means.

I'm fairly certain she assumed I was an imbecile early on. She attempted to 'tell' me how to adjust my hold on an animal once. Obviously it didn't work out well. Over time I've explained to her that if she tries telling me something new, it goes right out the window, but if she shows me something I remember it forever. I must have, at one point, shown my intelligence to her somehow. I've noticed a change in how she interacts with me.

Later that day she showed me a model of a patella and a reference book. I realized she was teaching and explaining to me the intricacies of one of the procedures she had done earlier. She was taking an extra step.

In a way, this helps fill my submissive needs. I'm helping out, I have rules and I have to be empathetic to her moods. She still scares me, and I still don't prefer her as a person, but I am enjoying the work dynamic.

My Brain

Verbal communication drives me to the brink of crazy... written communication borders on being committed.

When I was a child learning how to tell time, I was given a word problem.

Jane gets home from school everyday, how long does it take her to eat an apple? 15min 30min or 2 hours?

My answer?

4 o'clock.

Every time I tell this story people burst out laughing. And then I see the look of confusion. At that point I explain. I got home at 3:45 every evening from school. If it took me 15min to eat the apple I would be done by 4 o'clock.

The biggest challenge for me has been learning how to communicate verbally with people. At times I feel like the dumb kid in class who's just smart enough to know it. With massive IQ testing, my teachers attempted to figure out what level of retarded to put me into. Turned out my genius was unchartable. I was HIGHLY visual spacial.

Every problem I've run into stems from this difference. It's a certain feeling I get and I know in those moments that I'm missing some important detail. When it comes to me, I have an "Aha" moment and things fall into place after that. 

What people say, is rarely what they are actually thinking. As I've developed, I learned how to read people in a very empathic way. I just 'know' what's going on when I watch. I can't explain it. I only know that I get an overall snap shot of them and all the many layers. And, that is how I connect.

My friends and family are constantly confused by my conclusions about things. But they've learned to ride the wave and wait for the explanation. And because I have no idea how to communicate the way others do, I over do it.

Einstein was once walking down a path and came acrossed a friend. They chatted for a while about theory and soon said their goodbyes for the day. Einstein stopped his friend and asked "When you saw my walking, was I walking towards my house or away from it?" His friend told him he was walking away, to which he responded, "Oh good, I've eaten lunch then".

I understand that oh so well.

Blah Blah Blah

A few days ago I was completely wrapped up in internal reflection. I'd come to the surprising realization that a few things I though were the fault of others were in fact issues that stemmed from myself.

The general whirling of my mind involved; mulling over details, reflecting on past events and trying to conceptualize the whole of my self and those I relate to on a personal level.

It seems I have... dun dun duhhn! Trust issues. Figurative slap on the forehead.

What blows my mind is that I thought I had dealt with these issues long ago. But it seems that my mind has decided that I have to be completely sure of it. It's interesting that when I decide on something there's always an event that will challenge my new found resolutions.

It certainly doesn't help that my past is somewhat traumatic. I've never completely shared the details of what happened to me to anyone. But, who I am is not the result of what someone else chose to do. Honestly, I sometimes feel that I hold too much to heart those events. On a comparative level they really aren't that terrible. It certainly could have been much worse.

So, I sought the support of my spiritual community. I sat in silence and I put my inner critic aside for a while. Quietly counting breath, feeling my body solidly planted on the floor and experiencing the amazing moment to moment with others; I found that the stress and internal warfare dissipated slightly.

As always, I figured out the problem, found some internal resolution, and let it go. I chose to be gentle with myself.