Thursday, November 6, 2014

Year six

I didn't want to write this year either. I actually thought I had a draft where I'd been typing my notes, but no, just this blank page that I need to somehow wrangle my thoughts onto. I thought maybe I'd just skip it, but I can't quite do it. I'm grateful to have posts from each year to look back on even though writing them is hard - years one, two, three, four and five here.

Today marks the sixth year anniversary of Dave's bicycle accident. Last year I had just finished dealing with a crisis and was so, so angry. This year I feel pretty defeated. Nothing is getting better and I'm starting to realize that I have to let go of it a little if my life is ever going to move forward. I've been trying to take steps towards letting go, but it's a terrifying, guilt ridden process. Looking back, I realize that I said I was going to do this last year and I've only been partially successful.

Here's the thing - my default mode is to be a "fixer" in all situations. I can google like a pro, I can make lists of action items and resources and steps to take. But I can't fix this and not only have I exhausted myself trying, I've ended up in a position where all my energy and resources over the last few years have gone towards trying. I just haven't had anything left to invest in myself or my career or my relationships with people I care about, including my parents, which seems ironic, since I spend so much time thinking about them. But a relationship based solely on problem-solving isn't really a relationship, and I'm starting to feel it.

Fixing is comforting. It keeps me busy and distracted. I don't have time to feel sad often because I'm constantly going over a to do list in my head. Appointments and phone calls I should make (when the hell do people who work full time make phone calls when most offices are only open during the hours you are also working? it's a dilemma), places I should check out, strategies we maybe haven't tried yet. My mind is always going and it numbs me out a bit. Sure, I feel frantic and stressed and angry that I have to do all this. But sad? I haven't let myself feel sad in a while. Sad is depressing. Sad is admitting defeat. Sad is something that you can't just fix and I have a hard time accepting that.

So this summer I decided to try just letting myself feel sad. Or angry, or whatever. I would sometimes come home and just lie on the floor in the dark for 30 minutes and listen to music and actually let myself think about my feelings. It was a little bit like being 13 again, but with fewer zits. And yes, it was sad. I was essentially throwing myself a long overdue pity party and not even attempting to distract myself from it. It was uncomfortable and awkward. I am not a lie on the floor and cry type of person but eventually I needed to stop banging against a wall and actually lean into it. Honor the sadness and hope that I could start to move on from there.

I wish I could tell you that I had an amazing breakthrough and am now totally in touch with my emotions and also magically found a solution to this situation. I didn't. I still backslide a lot, and catch myself putting up walls because it's so much easier, this habit, even if it leaves me cut off and angry. I still feel responsible for fixing my parents' lives or at least finding solutions to make them more livable. I'm still terrified because I know that at some point in the near future the burden of taking care of Dave 24/7 is going to break my mom down completely and we should be coming up with a solution in advance of that and we haven't. I don't have the energy. I need to spend a bit of that energy on myself, because I've been paddling in place for the last six years, barely able to get myself to move into a new apartment, let alone contemplate my own future. I keep telling myself that I'll pick up the pieces of my own life later, once I've resolved everything. But this isn't going to resolve. It might only get worse. And I don't know how many years the rest of my life can wait on hold.

I don't know how to get over the crippling guilt I feel when I make the decision to cut back on family time in order to have more time with Dustin, or with our friends, or just by myself. I've tried to do it this year because it's the only way forward I know. The first Saturday I woke up and realized I was going to spend the entire weekend in my own apartment, without any trips down to my parents or any major events, I actually felt at loose ends. What do people do with free time? And had I really had so little of it that I couldn't remember how it felt? The enormous, unbelievable luxury of waking up slowly and doing normal things, cleaning the house and drinking tea and walking the dog and reading a book and doing laundry. The lingering anxiety that surely I was forgetting something because not following a complicated schedule of obligations seemed unbelievable. I'm trying to make sure we keep at least two weekends a month free. It's harder than you'd expect and it's still never really enough time, but it's something.

So this is where I am, moving forward in starts and stutters, trying to rebuild my relationships as best I can, trying to honor the sadness without letting it consume me. I need to spend a little time fixing myself before I can keep on with fixing anyone else. I can't really see my way forward right now but I'm trying to believe that there's a path somewhere. I have to start taking some steps in the fog and just hope that I find it.

31 comments:

  1. I needed to read exactly this today. Although my situation is a little different (elderly mom living with my alcoholic 52 year old brother, can't make it financially anymore), my feelings are the same as yours. I've been working years to find a solution in advance and haven't. I can't fix it. I've had my own challenges in life the past few years and understand so acutely how it feels to live one's life on hold. Working to solve problems (that may have no solution) becomes a way of life and purpose and I long for my life of "before", when it all seemed so easy, light and breezy. I have been told by many that once I put the oxygen mask on myself and start living my life as I want to, taking care of myself, that other things will begin to fall into place. I join you in looking for that path.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, Marla - I'm so sorry you're dealing with that. It's so hard not to be able to resolve a situation for the people you love the most. Hugs, and let's both try to find a better path.

      Delete
  2. Yes. Guilt is such a huge, huge burden. I devoted this entire year to "path of least resistance," and each time I would try to find a solution (or, at times, plan of revenge, what?), I would just ask, "What's simplest right now?" It's so not my style, but it totally let me let loose -- especially knowing I would just "try it for a year," so I have a deadline, bc man, problem-solving + brainstorming + list-making is kinda addicting. But also draining. I do love hearing that you're lying on the floor to get in touch with your emotions -- I have had my walls up for so long, but within the last year been able to bring them down -- Whoa. It's a lot to handle, but feeling (rather than just existing or floating, or feeling slightly off bc I wasn't letting myself feel allll the real stuff) has been worth it.

    So: keep at it, girl. At taking those breaks, where you lie back on your surfboard to stare at the sky after paddling for so long. At making lists, for some finite time (15 mins?), on a set day a week, and then letting it all go (no checking things off, no more list-making, etc.). At feeling your feelings. Like you said, you're great at problem-solving -- so you might as well live in the now (even if it's something you tell yourself for just 6 months or 1 year), and when that eventual day you described where your mom feels too burdened comes, you'll knock it out of the park then. Really.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This sounds like such a good exercise, especially for someone who tends to be a perfectionist. So glad you've been making progress and I hope you can continue to take those walls down. I'll be right there with you!

      Delete
  3. I know how you feel in more ways than one. So brave of you to share.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I agree with anonymous above. You are so brave and help so many by sharing

    ReplyDelete
  5. Hi Rachel.

    I just feel for you so much because things in my life -- how can I roll it up into a ball? -- did not go as planned, and I have been feeling a whole lot like Sisyphus for a very long time--too long--too. I understand elements of that frustration, that will, that earnest yearning, that repetitive knocking on the underside of the boat where you thought you'd find air and sunlight above water. Instead, it's dark and your lungs are burning.

    I do have good news--excellent news--news to rejoice over.

    I only came to it myself in September, and through practice and more practice it has already changed my life considerably. I urge you to check out Byron Katie's www.thework.com. It's dedicated to your peace and freedom, and no, I am not a paid representative, I just want to be happy and absolutely needed to do something before I drowned. She has 4 questions and a judge-your-neighbour worksheet that asks you to get as petty as possible when describing what bothers you, because that way, she advocates, lies your freedom.

    I definitely recommend her book "Loving What Is," and recommend you download the one-belief-at-a-time worksheet plus the judge-your-neighbor one.

    She lives in Ojai and I would also *definitely* recommend you make it to the New Year's Mental Cleanse if you can. It's in LA. I think it's only $150 per day.

    Even without meeting her it will be life-changing--the Work is a practice, like yoga for your heart, meant to be done daily. But it would be great for you to get a chance to learn from her directly.

    I really encourage you because I can't tell you how much it has helped me.

    Also, you are just SO lovely and talented and determined and it would be like 1,000 Friday flowers for me to see you turn that focus inwards.

    You have given me so much by just existing out here online, so not that this is mine but I hope this gives a little back.

    Be sad! Be mad! Then... Get happy. :) Goooooo, Rachel!!!!

    xxxxelle

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, Elle, it's so hard when life doesn't go according to plan, isn't it? (And then I ask myself - when does it?!)
      So glad you've found something that helps you and I will check it out.

      Delete
  6. Been reading your blog for years and in a way feel like i know you just a little bit, at least enough to feel empathy for your situation with your family.
    Perhaps you have yet to find the balance for your to juggle family obligations and your own life with your husband and friends - but the little bits you share here on this blog, your words and honesty and DYI ideas and book recommendations, are something I hope you're proud of and know that (even way over here in Europe) is appreciated, as I'm sure all your readers will agree with.
    Warm thoughts and prayers for your family, that a good solution for you all and Dave is on it's way and that you enjoy your "me-time" :)

    xoxo from Denmark
    Heiðdís

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, thank you so much for the kind words! I'm going to try to post more often, I hope!

      Delete
  7. You're such a beautiful writer, Rachel. I've followed your blog for quite some time and have so much respect for the way you live your life. I wish I had some wise words of advice but I've never gone through anything like what you described above. Just know that so many people are rooting for you, and your family.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Trust me, the rooting is appreciated. Thank you!

      Delete
  8. Hi Rachel,

    Long time reader and first time commenter. You seem like a truly amazing person inside and out. Just wanted you to know, am sending lots of good thoughts, love and prayers your way and to your family too.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hi Rachel,
    I wanted to thank you for writing about your struggles. I don't know exactly how to say this but i'll try. Even though my struggles have been somewhat similar but also very different, I feel a little less alone when you share this part of your life and yourself. Not many people like to talk about this sort of thing even though it needs to be talked about. I (maybe for the first time really) am trying to live life my way and am trying to take care if myself. I know it sounds harsh, but you have to take care of yourself because no one else can. I found it helped to talk to a counselor, but you need to do what's right for you.
    Although I like looking at all the pretty things on blogs out there, yours is one of the best because it is real.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much for reaching out! I know that there are so many people struggling with so many different situations. I'm so glad this resonated with you, please know that you aren't alone.
      I spent all last year in therapy and I agree that you can't really underestimate the value of that, when you find a good connection. I do think it was helpful in getting me to this place, even if it does feel like just the beginning.

      Delete
  10. Sending lots of love from across the miles... I love your little space, and really appreciate everything you share - especially the tough times.
    You are really brave and an honest inspiration x

    ReplyDelete
  11. While it was a really painful conclusion to come to (and probably doesn't feel this way at all), please know that the very fact you recognize the need for a break, or at least to approach things differently is a huge step forward. Sending good things your way.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! I keep trying to tell myself that but you're right - it's hard to feel that way, even if I believe it rationally.

      Delete
  12. Rachel, all of my love, thoughts and hugs to you. I admire you so much for writing these posts every year with the same resilience and strength that you continue to have. Having a break is something that is not to be seen as 'weak'. It's a sign that you're human and every person needs something whatever it is, in order to function. You're brave and kind and lovely. You are always in my thoughts xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the sweet words and support, April!

      Delete
  13. Hi Rachel, I stumbled across your blog a couple months ago and have enjoyed your posts. I just followed the links back to read about your stepdad's accident (because as a new reader I didn't know about it) - just wow, what a story. It sounds so incredibly difficult. I hope you are comforted by the thought that many strangers like me have you in our thoughts and prayers. I think all you can do is try to be at peace with the fact that you have done your best. These situations that can only be dealt with day by day are so trying. An occasional floor cry sounds good. Keep being good to yourself!

    ReplyDelete
  14. Hi Rachel,

    thank you for writing so honestly about this.

    My sister and I are in a somewhat similar situation - our dad has Parkinson's disease and has declined very rapidly over the last few years to the point where we have had to face up to the fact that he is no longer able to cope at home. After a string of awful incidents/accidents and numerous hospital admissions, we felt we had no choice but to move him into a residential care home this summer, and now we are having to battle to find funding and sell his home to pay the fees, all the while feeling guilty that he isn't at home any longer. We try to find comfort in the fact that we know he is in the only place where he can be properly looked after, that he is above all safe, and cared for, properly fed, washed and clothed, and that the staff do all that they can to retain whatever independence he still has, that we have found what we really believe to be the best option for him close to where he's lived his whole life, but it is hard. We - I guess like you - have to try and stop ourselves from calling him every evening, visiting every weekend (we do not live nearby), answering the phone to him at all hours of the day and night, and find time to look after ourselves, our marriages, our young kids, our jobs, try and find time for friends, but it is so difficult to not do something I know I could (if perhaps not should) be doing.

    It makes it harder that dad is in his mid 60s, so we are dealing with this in our early thirties, at a time when no one else we know has to really think about the welfare of their parents, and talking about it to friends feels like something no one wants to hear or have to think about. This is one of the reasons why I so value your writing here.

    It's hard to feel that we've lost our dad (our real dad), that my daughter can't really know her grandad even though we take her to visit often, that dad might not even be aware enough to meet the baby we are expecting in January. It's almost all we talk about, think about, spend time on, and I know that the other people I love - but who have less pressing and more subtle needs - are suffering as a result. I think in the end we somehow have to accept that we can only do what we can do - that there's a limit to how much we should expect of ourselves, that he isn't going to get better, and that by finding him a safe and caring environment, we have done the most important thing we can for him. We have to try and stop feeling guilty for the things we aren't doing (and that probably wouldn't make any difference if we were doing them). We have to try and remember that if he were still his true self, he would want us to move on with our own lives. I also have to try and learn that I can love dad better by trying to take on less, because trying to tackle an unbearable burden makes it difficult sometimes not to be resentful, to feel angry and stifled, to remember that none of this is his fault.

    I wish you luck in your journey to find a better balance. I think you are right that you need to take back some precious time for yourself and for your own relationships. It seems, from your writing here, that you have done an incredible amount to help your mother and Dave and that it just wouldn't be possible to do any more - or to keep up the relentles pace of what you have been doing for so long. I think you are taking the right steps, hard though they are. Sending love,

    Victoria

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, Victoria - this makes me tear up. It's so hard being in this position at our age (at any age, of course, but I think it's particularly hard when you're the first of your friends dealing with it AND it's exactly the time when we're supposed to be focusing on careers and kids). I'll be thinking of you and your family.

      Delete
  15. Thank you for being so open and brave. I have been reading your blog for years and am thinking of you and your family.

    ReplyDelete
  16. I miss your mom daily. I know the devastating toll that Dave's accident has taken on all of you, but mostly on Greta. You are all in my thoughts. I wish you strength and courage. With love, Andrea.

    ReplyDelete
  17. I'm thinking of you, Rachel, and sending lots of good, Wonder Woman energy your way.

    ReplyDelete
  18. You have a beautiful blog. As a pretty recent reader, I didn't know this story. So difficult, and really something to come upon this many years later and see how it evolved.

    I take away that you must be a very good person to have been this much help for this long. That's maybe not how you feel, but that's what it looks like.

    ReplyDelete

Trying captchas this time - better or worse than having to log in to comment? Let me know! Sorry for all the hoops but the spam has been terrible lately!