Thursday, December 31, 2015

A Letter to My Husband

I leave for Boston in 2 days. So the explosion will have to wait. But its coming. Its coming and it will be huge.

I am beginning to believe that to get past everything, I have to lay everything out. I have to say everything I think and feel.

I don't believe a word you say. I'm not sure I ever did. What I hear is stories. And they aren't real. There is no proof of them. The older I have gotten the more I believe in proof. In the cold hard facts. I see none of these.

What I do see is the man I married. A man who had a tortuous childhood. And for that I am truly sorry.

I love you. I do. But I can't keep living with the stories. I just want the truth.

When our 8 year old daughter asks me "so if Daddy is a doctor then why can't he help me?" ~ I don't know how to respond. All I could say is "Daddy isn't a doctor." Her response "Well he gave up, so he gave up on me.". I defended you. I told her "No no Daddy did not give up on you, he had no idea he would have a daughter like you back then.".

Aria asked me yesterday while at the grocery store "How come I see Grandpa holding Grandma's hand but Daddy never holds yours?". I didn't even answer.

You say that it goes both ways. And it does. But what you don't understand is my need for you to be the man. For you to lead. I'm tired. I am really really tired. And I know you are too.

You called me a lovesick bitch for doing what my boss at work asks. For a mistake in the schedule that I had made. As if I could love a misogynistic pig like him.

I told you I don't believe your past. And I don't. And I don't care what your past was.

What I want is you. I don't give a care about what happened before there was us.

If she doesn't make it, both of us know this marriage won't survive. And you know as well as I do what that crow in the backyard yesterday meant. It may not be her ending, but it was the sign of a possible ending ~ of a death of something should we allow it to happen.

There can't be any more excuses of "We never have the time" or "I'm so tired".

I need you to love me. In more than just words. Like a man loves a woman. And I know you have never had an example of that, and I am so so so sorry for that. But I know you know what to do.

The girls are gonna be loud. They will scream. They will get annoying. But we can't let it ruin everything. We have let it ruin us. Now I don't know what we are to each other anymore. All I know is we are not lovers, or confidants anymore. We are friends yes, friends with a mutual interest in our family. But there is no interest in each other anymore. It's why I seek out others to connect with. There's a wall between us.

I'm so sorry. But I want you to know I love you. And I love you in the way a woman loves a man. I want to feel the way I did when you moved down here from Minnesota and I had rug burns on my legs. I want us to be us again. To laugh. For you to smile like I said you used to smile like David Tennant did as the Doctor. (Why do you think he is my favorite? Because he looks like you! Why do I love Loki? Because he is tall, thin and mischievous like you!)

I want our children to see affection and love from and between their parents. I want them to tell me about things you did with them. Places you took them while Mommy was at work.

I know you will be mad I put this in the public realm. But I think ours is a cautionary tale. It needs to be heard, to be read.

I don't want others to fall prey to this. To lose sight of one another because of the addition of a medically complex child. I gave my everything to her, while you shut down and retreated. Its neither of our faults.

Come with me ok? I want you to come with me. Come with me. Be that adventurer I knew you as. Hear the joy in the annoying noises our children make. Be my lover, my confidant again.

Come with me.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Tears and Tongues

"I'm just so heart broken cause you aren't the child I raised anymore." ~ My Mom says through tears and speaking in tongues. (If you grew up Pentecostal like I did, you know what tongues is) 

"Your sister and I watched old home movies, and the person I see before me now, is nothing like the girl I raised." She continued to cry. She put her arms around me. My little Momma, she's so pint sized compared to my 5'10", large frame. Her head rests in my bosom, almost like we have reversed roles and now I'm the Mother. 

"I did what I had to do to survive." I say as I begin to cry. "I don't know what else to do." I say to her softly. 

My daughters play loudly while this is going on. Their laughter echos through the house. I'm glad someone has remembered the way to laugh. 

My Mom and I drop the subject as quickly as it began. She begins to wash dishes and I run to the hallway to grab the vacuum. 

We went about our day, taking down the inside Christmas decorations, and getting the house clean as Alexandra and I leave for Boston in less than a week. We never spoke of that moment again, and probably never will.

"Mom just feels horrible because your always so down, and depressed and you never get out of it. She watched those home videos with me and your always happy and smiling. She just wants you to be happy. No matter what happens all of us will be together in the end." ~ My sister responds to me as I ask her what happened when they watched the home videos together. "But I smile, and I do stuff. I do." I reply. "But you go from happy to really sad instantly, and it happens often and I think it scares Mom." "I can see that. I don't know what else to do."

I looked at my Mom's face hard today. Really looked. My Mom has always had this round happy face, even in her early 60's she has hardly had any wrinkles. But ever since she became Alexandra's part time caregiver, I have seen an aging. Not because Alexandra is difficult, but because she sees the pain inside this household. She sees what I have been putting up with for years now. And it hurts her. Now I know why she always would ask me in the past "Honey, you have such horrible dark circles under your eyes ~ are you okay?". 

I don't know what else to do. I just don't know. I hate that its hurting my Mom. That even my Dad is crying at night because he sees what I have to put up with. 

I have to take pills to get through the day. Pills to sleep at night. Because the person I need to hold me up and take care of me, can't. He can't see past his own pain. And it's not pain from the happenings of our daughter, its decades of abuse as a child, its his feeling of indifference, and narcissism that keep him from seeing the real reasons things are happening. It's pridefulness. 

I don't know what else to do. I pray. It's all I have left. 

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Every Christmas is Last Christmas

"Every Christmas is Last Christmas" ~ Doctor Who Christmas Special 2014

Tears, I heard that line and tears. A teacher of hers had mentioned how they wanted to make Christmas extra special for us because we never know if this will be the last Christmas we share with Alex. What a cold hard truth. And when I heard those hit me. Christmas night she cried, she didn't want to go to sleep because she didn't want Christmas to be over. Did she know something I didn't? Sometimes I think she does. Then I go to sleep and dream it was Last Christmas. I know it's totally stupid to believe in dreams but I think it gives insight into what is occurring in the bottom of my sub-conscious mind. It is insight into my soul, the entity that animates me and makes me who I am. And while I am many things, the one thing that has truly defined me as what I am is her ~ her existence in this world. What I do, and what I do best, is be her advocate. I manage her. I make sure she takes her meds, eats, drinks, I monitor her vitals. Even as I sit here typing this I turn around (for the umpteenth time this hour) to remind her to 'DRINK YOUR FLUIDS ALEX!". It has defined my days, my nights, my inner self. I do other things ~ I have a job, I sell diamonds ~ I go to school ~ I teach ~ but what I really do is do everything for her.

Because without that every single minute of every single day of my existence devoted to everything Alexandra Mae ~ I have nothing left. I gave it all to the continued survival of her, and nothing else matters.

What many people don't understand is that this fact of giving everything to this one calling is dangerous. I have isolated myself from my Husband, my other child, even isolated myself from myself.

My Husband and I exist as ships passing in the night ~ a hello and then a goodbye, with a few "oh yeah we gotta pay this bill or don't forget Aria's Christmas concert on Wednesday". We don't talk. We don't touch. We don't kiss. We are nothing but worker bees devoted to the grind of ensuring we can continue to travel to Boston to take care of her.

Am I mad that this has become our existence? Not really. Its all I've known now for 8 years. I got over that anger a long time ago.

But when the idea of "Last Christmas" comes to my mind, and the fact that should that come to pass, I will be left with nothing to continue on with ~ I worry for the survival of this family.

I worry for my Husbands mental health should we lose her. I worry for mine. I worry for the look on Aria's face as she sees her sister in the casket. I can visualize it. I can see and hear Aria cry out "Sissy! Wake up sissy!" Would I be able to be the Mother Aria needs me to be should we lose Alex?

I try to live in the moment, I do. But the moment is oftentimes tainted with the tears of tomorrow.

Alex and I leave in a week for Boston. Is this Christmas "Last Christmas"? Can I spend the next year with the sword of Damocles perched above this families head? Do I even have a choice?

Every Christmas is Last Christmas. Clara lost her love Danny Pink. Danny told her that each day she could give him 5 minutes to grieve, to mourn, to be sad, but that was all she can do. She has to give every other minute of each day to growth, happiness, and truth. Can I do that? Can I give myself 5 minutes each day to mourn the what ifs, the how comes, the whens? (did I just create a New Years Resolution for myself?) Can I live in the moment without those tears of tomorrow?

I don't know. I don't even know if I want to. Melancholy has always suited be better.

Every Christmas is Last Christmas.

Last Christmas.

"Do you know why people get together at Christmas? Because every time they do, it might be the last time. Every Christmas is Last Christmas"
~ Damn you Stephen Moffat, You always make me cry! ~