For the last five minutes or maybe more, I have been sitting looking at this blank screen. I am waiting. I am not sure what I am waiting for. I do, actually. I am waiting for the words to come out. For the purge. The release. Letting go. Getting it all out. Whatever the right phrase is, I guess I am just looking for just some plain simple relief from this toxic, heavy mix i have been carrying inside me for the last couple of days.
Ever since I had that weird dream, I knew something was wrong. And every chat, every message I got confirmed it. Not explicitly. But just a sense. And I knew I was right. But that's the wonderful thing about us and our circumstances. The silences speak louder. The truncated sentences are longer. All I could do was quietly send whatever positive energy I could. And, less quietly, provide pleasant distractions.
But this wall has gotten to me now. I want to bang against it, lean against it, hug it. I want to reach out beyond it and send all I have to heal, to cure. And I cant. Can there be a more helpless feeling in the world? Of feeling the pain of a loved one and being unable to do anything about it. I know that at the end of the day, we are all alone, but I would at least like to have the choice of being there for someone, of giving a hug, of just being a presence that acts as an affirmation.
Even as I try and live with the knowledge that that's not possible, there is also a rueful acceptance that even if these constraints didn't exist, even if I could surmount the wall, it wouldn't really make a difference. It wouldn't. More than any other instance over the last few months, this has brought home to me how much on the periphery I really am. How I don't really have any control, any impact, any meaning in the larger picture at all. For all the depth of the connect, the beauty of the moments, I don't really matter.
While the helplessness is something I have felt before with other people, and in some way have become familiar with the pain of it, the knowledge of my own insignificance is a new and unfamiliar sensation.
So all I can do is swallow this horrible pill, and try and to not think about the pain that I know he's going through. Instead, to block, to stonewall, to distract, to dull. Except for talking about it directly with someone (how's that for irony), I tried it all this evening. Some random shopping. A pleasant dinner with a close friend, chatting away to glory. Drinks. A horror movie in a theater. A long drive with booming music. Then a shorter one with soothing music. P G Wodehouse. Work.
Nothing worked. It's sharp as ever, making me wince as I say anything, do anything. I know sleep won't come easily...and when it does, it will be anything but peaceful. So I wait here. In front of this screen which is no longer blank. Filled with words that express what I feel. This is my release. But it's not enough.
I will just pray. For him. For me.
Ever since I had that weird dream, I knew something was wrong. And every chat, every message I got confirmed it. Not explicitly. But just a sense. And I knew I was right. But that's the wonderful thing about us and our circumstances. The silences speak louder. The truncated sentences are longer. All I could do was quietly send whatever positive energy I could. And, less quietly, provide pleasant distractions.
But this wall has gotten to me now. I want to bang against it, lean against it, hug it. I want to reach out beyond it and send all I have to heal, to cure. And I cant. Can there be a more helpless feeling in the world? Of feeling the pain of a loved one and being unable to do anything about it. I know that at the end of the day, we are all alone, but I would at least like to have the choice of being there for someone, of giving a hug, of just being a presence that acts as an affirmation.
Even as I try and live with the knowledge that that's not possible, there is also a rueful acceptance that even if these constraints didn't exist, even if I could surmount the wall, it wouldn't really make a difference. It wouldn't. More than any other instance over the last few months, this has brought home to me how much on the periphery I really am. How I don't really have any control, any impact, any meaning in the larger picture at all. For all the depth of the connect, the beauty of the moments, I don't really matter.
While the helplessness is something I have felt before with other people, and in some way have become familiar with the pain of it, the knowledge of my own insignificance is a new and unfamiliar sensation.
So all I can do is swallow this horrible pill, and try and to not think about the pain that I know he's going through. Instead, to block, to stonewall, to distract, to dull. Except for talking about it directly with someone (how's that for irony), I tried it all this evening. Some random shopping. A pleasant dinner with a close friend, chatting away to glory. Drinks. A horror movie in a theater. A long drive with booming music. Then a shorter one with soothing music. P G Wodehouse. Work.
Nothing worked. It's sharp as ever, making me wince as I say anything, do anything. I know sleep won't come easily...and when it does, it will be anything but peaceful. So I wait here. In front of this screen which is no longer blank. Filled with words that express what I feel. This is my release. But it's not enough.
I will just pray. For him. For me.
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