the spies are falling

Unposted Dream I Found From 2005

The spies are falling from the roof again. It isn't a daily occurrance, although when it happens there are always 10 or 12 in a day. Other times, none will fall for weeks or months.

As they fall, one can hear their fingernails and boots scraping the wooden shingles, trying to hold onto anything they can. Its a long way down and the ground is frozen solid. The sound when they reach their end is alarming. A heavy and wet shattering of life.

By far, the worst is when they fall in the early morning hours, midway between sunset and the next rise. It is darkest then, and the rumbling and shaking of the roof at such a silent hour startle awake any who can bear to sleep in such cold. It is as if waking from a nightmare, a sudden alertness with heart pounding violently. "What was that!" and just as quickly remembering again the spies.

Peering out the window, the spies cannot be seen by eye. But it is known they are there. Watching. They fall from the sky periodically, landing upon the crown of the slatted building. They cling to the sloped top and occassionally to the decaying shingles, like cameleons with suction cupped toes and fingers.

What happens to the spies that they all of a sudden cannot stay attached to the roof, that their hands and feet no longer hold them close to the slanted surface? You might think it icey, that would certainly explain the long drought between a dozen fallings. Certainly, it would make more sense than the truth. The truth of the matter is that the spies simply get tired, lose their grip and slide off.

They are like unfed moths, attached to the roof, waiting, watching. They report back to no one, for there is no one to report back to. In fact, there is no specific reason they spy, they just do. They are watchers. Its like a compulsion.



they are there to fall. its where spies go to die.

The Little Mermaid

I've always understood the story of The Little Mermaid. She wants to be with this dude who is from another world, and she's willing to sacrifice the thing that makes her her just to be with him.

Sad story. But of course she would do that - she's in love!

But over the last year and a half I have come to understand this story in the most personal way... choosing to stay with a partner after a betrayal... where I am blocked from expressing any emotion about the betrayal.

Everything is "fine"(for him) as long as we don't talk about it - as long as I pretend it never happened, and that I'm not being torn apart inside. As long as I don't express fears, or cry, or ask questions. But if I do these things - like when I experience emotional flashbacks and try to communicate the intense fear I'm experiencing, his response is to suggest I'm trying to provoke him.

I am The Little Mermaid. Only, I don't want to give up any part of myself in order to make someone else the center of my world. I believe I deserve to be a full person with equal voice and space in a partnership. I don't believe my partner should have to give up their voice or being true to themself either.

Yet... what is clear to me in this relationship is...

I can either be me... a woman with joy, sorrow, interests, a desire to live a full life, and space to give voice to those emotions and experience life as a whole person. An equal actor in the world with the ability and space to be seen and heard...

Or I can be with him... and be a supporting actor in his world, where he is the focus, and where there is no room for me to speak my truth. And where I must give up the attempt to process and resolve anything within me that reminds him of what he's done.

It is a choice.
I can not both be fully me, and be with him.
For him, there is only room for him.

Not Writing It Down

I'm not really writing or journaling anything about his adultery, or my feelings about them, or anything related.

I suspect it would be good for me to write about it but I truly don't want to.

I don't want to create a record.
I don't want to see it later.
I don't want to relive these thoughts and feelings.
I don't want to remember.

The problem is... I still can't get it out of my head.

I am haunted by the emotional anguish of being so thoroughly and maliciously betrayed.
I am haunted by the imaginings of conversations and physical encounters.
I am haunted by the lies and omissions.

I reside in two spaces - the space of betrayed spouse and the space of primary caregiver of a mentally and physically ill person.  But I cannot hold both spaces simultaneously.  So, I do not give voice or space to the pain.

Still it seeps in like air under closed doors, like light through cracked eyes while I sleep, and through song lyrics on the radio.

I feel an anxiety rising, ready to burst my chest and throat open.

There is something in there that wants out.  But it's too big.  And if I let it out, it will consume everything.

Unequal Love

I'm thinking a lot about commitment. And what it means to have an imbalance in equality in a relationship - unequal loyalty, unequal commitment, unequal respect.

If one partner proves they will absolutely not be there for the other... that they are not equally committed to the partnership, what does that mean?  Is that okay?  Or is that a deal breaker?

What does it mean when "forever" or "until death do us part" mean different things to partners? What does it mean when vows mean less to one partner? What does it mean when these things become apparent? And what is the solution?

It seems reasonable that people would value things differently. Even relationships. Certainly I have friendships that I know are far more meaningful to me than to the friend. And I accept that. On the other hand, my friends and I have not entered a sacred contract, witnessed by the law or friends or any officiant. We merely have spent some time together and usually said in some way that we appreciate spending time together.

Usually within a partnership there is some kind of social, legal, and/or spiritual contract. A supposedly deeper agreement and commitment and understanding - expectations, boundaries. Yet despite the weight of these things, what if one person just simply doesn't place the same value on this contract and commitment.

Then what?

Is that okay?

Certainly it is hurtful if and when the relationship is tested and the lesser committed partner shows who they truly are.

But does that require the end of the relationship? Does the more committed person dishonor themselves by staying with someone who would abandon and dishonor them? Or is the unequal love reasonable.

Another way of thinking of it... if I would give my life for my partner - jump in front a bullet to save them - but they would not do the same for me... is that reasonable? Should I expect that from them? Or is that a reason to find a different partner?

If one partner would commit adultery but the other would truly never - a definite breach of trust and evidence of lack of commitment, and lack of valuing the other - is that reason to leave?

What would make the lesser valued partner believe that, after a betrayal, the other was now equally committed? Why should they think that the offending partner now loves them more equally or is now more likely to remain loyal?

Both partners have demonstrated who they are, their loyalty and commitment, or lack thereof.

So, given this... is this lack of equality tolerable? Permissible? Expected? Reasonable?

So I Got Into Graduate School

I've been been resting and working my rear off over the last year to recover from Lyme and Lupus.  It's been my primary focus, and I'm glad to report that I've steadily been improving, although It's been slow and I still experience waves of symptoms.

The moments of feeling hints of wellness inspired me to think about a future - something that hasn't been on my radar in years because why bother thinking of the future when you'll just disappoint yourself by still being sick.

 

This past December, feeling like hell but having had these glimpses of feeling somewhat better, I decided it was now or never for applying to an MFA program.

 

Just about anyone with a chronic illness can understand why I couldn't wait until I was "100 percent" better or cured or whatever before taking action.  If I had, I expect I'd still be waiting to feel good enough to apply when fall semester 2020 rolled around.

There was no deadline for the application - it's rolling admissions.  So, I got started in December, wanting to make sure I gave myself plenty of time to gather everything together, get recommendations, and be able to complete the required writing and drawing assignments, and still get the whole thing in before their scholarship review (May).

My personal deadline was February 1st.  But after not working for 6 months I had been worried about money and took a part time temp job, so it took me until March 31 to get my application in the mail.  I was so happy to get it out the door!  If nothing else, I had accomplished this!

Within a couple of weeks I heard from the school, talked with the director on the phone who assured me that the school would work with me to accommodate my health issues.

 

Understandably, this was one of my biggest concerns with the program - what if I get sick?  What if it's too much?  What if I can't handle the workload, or the stress, or all of it together?  What if I get sick and it has nothing to do with being in the program but it makes it so I can't continue?  What then?

I received my acceptance letter last Thursday, but no other specific information just yet, although I do have quite a few general ideas.  So, there are a lot of unknowns right now.

 

I'm swaying between elation, terror, anxious planning, and trying to remember if today is my plaquenil x1 or x2 day. 

Grieving Multiple Illnesses

I think I've thought of this before, but I think what I'm experiencing is grief.

Although I've been sick for over a decade with Lupus, I've only truly known and understood that I was very ill for a few years.  And mostly during these last few years I've been coping with crisis (Phyllodes breast cancer), and not having much space in my life for grieving.

The last few years I've been trying so hard to make my life fit into a mold of "normalicy" that I haven't fully grieved.  I've been trying to return to work, trying to get well, and trying to make everyone think I'm just fine.  It's been quite a denial-ride.

Getting diagnosed with Lyme this winter just broke me.

And now, with one more thing to cope with, I'm starting to realize that my life will never be what I wanted it to be.  I will always be some amount of ill.  I am disabled and it can not be fixed.

It's true that some days are better than others... some days I have the energy to do something, like go to the grocery store or vacuum or go to the library.  Some days I don't have headaches/migraines, hives, or nausea.  Some days I can walk, sit, stand with only discomfort and not intense pain.  But not all days.  And not most days.

Most days there is some symptom, usually a few, kicking my ass.  And that is my normal, even if it's not the normal I want.

So, I'm grieving the loss of the last decade-plus, the loss of my present, and the loss of my future.  I'm grieving the loss of my health, my financial capacity, and my inability to fix or change any of this, my helplessness.

I hate being helpless.  I hated it as a child of an alcoholic and drug addict.  I hate it as an adult who had made all the responsible choices while growing up, and therefore expected to work, play, and enjoy a long healthy and prosperous life.

I don't know quite how to grapple with all the loss. But I have a feeling the only way out, is through.  So, I'm just going to grieve the best I can, and hope that this part feels better some day.

The Life I Didn't Have

I'm angry.

Really really angry.

Angry about how much of my life illness has taken from me.  And I can't get any of that back.  Ever.

I have spent more than 25 percent of my life being ill with Lupus, a rare breast cancer, and apparently with Lyme.  And it's not over.  Lupus is forever.  Hopefully the breast cancer won't return, but certainly it's possible.  And who knows whats going to happen with Lyme at this point - I've just started treatment, but I've heard that sometimes you just can't ever get rid of it.

My first Lupus flare was when I was 16.  I mostly recovered, but looking back I can see that it did cut into my energy with a slight fatigue that never quite went away.  In my mid-twenties my energy began a more marked decline.  I thought it was just burn-out, that I just needed to slow down, maybe take more time off work and do some more leisure activities (like learn to paint in watercolors). 

My second Lupus flare was when I was 28, and it was a big one, and I've never recovered.  I lost my job (and therefor lost my health insurance) because I was unable to work.  My meager 401k prevented me from qualifying for Medicaid.  And what should have been a productive life of work with two bachelors degrees to spur my upward mobility became a decade of poverty and struggle.

I'm angry about the life I didn't get to build.  I don't think my expectations were too high, which makes it all the more demoralizing that I haven't had the adulthood I wanted for myself.

When we married my husband sported the same fading pants and shirt he wore at his college graduation several years earlier, and I fashioned a shift dress from a couple yards of discounted wool/rayon blend fabric instead of the lovely $90 wool shift dress from Anthropologie that I desperately wanted.  It was a nice try, but it fit poorly, and was scratchy and stiff.

We couldn't afford a venue or to feed, house or entertain guests.  And I certainly didn't have the energy to plan a wedding let alone attend one.  And because we didn't want anyone to feel left out if we only invited a couple people, we decided it just couldn't happen.  Instead we asked a new yoga studio that had opened across from our apartment if we could use their space, which they generously shared with us for free.  My husband arranged a Justice of the Peace to marry us for the customary $50 fee.  And when we realized we couldn't afford rings, I found a silversmith on Etsy to make us matching plain silver bands.

We've never had a honeymoon or a party.  And we did not get all the hoopla of gifts and celebration that other couples get to start their marriages and lives together.  It pains me every time we're invited to a wedding, or witnessing the splendor that others enjoy in their wedding experience.  Especially because the wedding I would have loved to have if I were well wasn't particularly expensive or elaborate.  But it was not doable for someone so ill and without an income.

Then there is the matter of children.  I don't have any.  I've never been pregnant, and am not sure if it's possible in this body.  I've been too ill over the last decade to even consider pregnancy, birthing, or raising children.  If I don't have the energy to do laundry or make a meal, how could I have the energy to care for a child?  If I'm in too much pain to make it up and down the stairs some days, how can I chase after a little one?  How would I be able to teach them and play with them and drive them to appointments or activities as they grow?  And how could I knowingly subject a child to such a lacking existence?

And now, as 40 looms just a couple months away, and with Lyme (which is passed on to the fetus) expected to take a couple years to "cure" if it can be cured, I'm not sure I've got time.  The proverbial biological clock tick-tock-ticking away.  Meanwhile, it seems that every female I know over the age of 28 is pregnant or raising their little ones.

I can't help reflecting on the disappointment this life is for me.  I was raised in poverty by a teen mother.  I put myself through college with very little financial support and no emotional support.  I had expected to go on to do meaningful work with my life.  To be somebody and make the world a better place.

But I have done nothing of value, and continue to contribute nothing, and in fact am just stuck here unable to do, have, or be anything.  Another 40 years of this kind of "living" sounds like absolute hell.

So, I'm angry.  I'm angry at all the goodness other people enjoy and experience, while I waste my life being too ill to create the life I want.