On weather radar it looked like a hurricane. A large cloud mass swirling counter clockwise brought us wind and rain the likes we have never seen. Electricity blinked off and on, antenna's were bent into pretzels, shingles flew from roofs and, when I lifted the shades this morning, our prayer tipi was a tangle on the ground.
For the past month things have been a swirling wind storm here in our home. Mike has been working on a project which is taking up a good deal of his time; a project I encouraged him to take on because I believe in him. I've had difficulty dealing with the space it has opened up. For the past 18 months we've been nearly inseparable, something I've become quite accustomed to. Spoiled is the word that come to the forefront here. Now there is this other thing causing space and I'm unsettled even though we made an agreement, formed a plan, to manage the space and not let it get too big. I was in on this. I agreed to this. I was ok with this until my committee took it over.
My committee occasionally takes over rational thinking inside my head. They run meetings without me. They serve whine and platters of insecurity at their work sessions. This time my committee showed up with a new chair who was a real bitch on heels. She held daily meetings and discussed such agenda items as my importance in Mike's life, equality in the home work place, missed project deadlines and the cutting of my position or as she put it, "letting you go." She was expert at undermining my self-esteem and had plans for a hostile take over.
When I wasn't sitting in on meetings I was struggling with the second half of October. Last year was a hard painful time for me and I did not feel like celebrating the one year mark. In fact I just didn't want to remember. I wanted to just go on with our life. I shared these feelings with Mike and even gave him a heads up on it hoping he would help me navigate through the rough spots. He was busy with his project and missed some signals - oh how the committee loved that.
Next came the news from my recent Dr's appointment. There was an abnormality on my mamogram and we needed to do further imaging and an ultrasound. (Let me just say here that I am fine) I became more stressed and anxious. There were more and more committee meetings which I was unprepared for. I took it out on Mike. I put expectations on him of which he was unaware. Remember, it was me who said, "expectation is premeditated disappointment." Boy was I disappointed and um....crabby is how we'd say it in polite company.
I don't think Mike could have done a thing right if he'd had the instruction manual in front of him, but he tried.
He went to my x-rays and got the good news that all was well with me. I wanted some kind of big atta-girl moment or evening or I dunno what? See even I didn't know so how could he? I just wanted something. The committee met far into the evening, broke for the night and reconvened in the morning.
Last night we sat down and had our own meeting. We teamed up against my committee and we talked the bitch on heels outta the room. After she was gone we got down to being honest or rather I did. We did some hard work and dug until the problem came up and it looked a lot like pain. Turns out I've been carrying a year and a half's worth of pain around like a talisman in my back pocket. I was still mad at the cancer. I was still mad about Mike's belly. I was still mad that he didn't want me at his bedside the night he came out of surgery. Hell, I was mad and hurt for a whole lot of reasons and when I came clean, well, the committee was gone, and we were the sole occupants of the room.
This morning when I looked out the window and saw the tipi all crumpled in a heap I knew I had my closure. When Mike had his port out I wanted to celebrate. I wanted that day to be my closure, but Mike was still feeling crappy from chemo and there was no celebration. We never celebrated the end. We talked party and he didn't want to. I'm not blaming him for this. It is what it is and he was able to move on. I got stuck. I can tell you this now, after the fact, but last night when Mike and I were talking and I was purging I looked out the window past him and thought, "I gotta get rid of that prayer tipi. I am never going to move forward while that thing reminds me every day of the past."
Tonight the stars are out and the air is cold and calm. The hurricane is gone, the tipi is gone and so is my pain. I know that the wind took all the prayers out of each rag and bead that was tied to the poles and delivered them all to where they could be answered before it cast everything to the ground. Mike is in his room writing, the house is warm and the only thing between he and I is skin. We are moving again, forward, together.
Peace
Real Peace,
Karen
