Posted in Blogging, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, Stories of my life, writing

Learning Compassion (again)

As some of my reader’s and friends already know my husband passed away on August 17th, 2019. I miss him every single day.

This is something I wrote in 2015 about him and me and learning compassion. Not only for him but for me also. It’s something I’m still working on. The compassion part for me.

I will eventually come back to blogging. I just don’t know when. Thank you for sticking around.

oldmansil

 

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I do the daily dishes. I’m worried about him, as he hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. He has hardly moved from his bed in the same amount of time.

I know I can’t nag him to eat. I’ve tried that in the past and it just makes us both miserable. I feel bad because the other day he asked for something special to eat and I had to tell him no. Not because I wouldn’t cook it because we had no money to buy it to cook. He didn’t seem to understand when I explained it to him.

He doesn’t understand lots of things now. It saddens me, but I have learned not to let it linger in my mind. It’s not his fault. It’s the fault of his medications. The strong pain pills he takes several times a day. They have robbed him of his sharp mind like the pain has robbed him of his appetite, his focus, his ability to function like he used to.

When we moved into this 30-year-old mobile home almost 2 years ago. We decided to put his twin size bed in the living room. He loves his TV, but the couch was too uncomfortable for him to lay on all day. So we got rid of the old loveseat and put in a twin bed we got for free. It has worked out well. The TV gives him something to do.

I watch him as I do the dishes. I see the deep furrows of pain on his face. I wish I could do something more for him but I know I can’t. Soon his afternoon pills will take effect, his eyes will gloss over, the furrows won’t be quite so deep. For a little while.

I finish the last dish, put it in the dish rack to air dry, wipe my hands and make myself another cup of coffee. I’ve been in the kitchen for 45 minutes and not a word was spoken between him and I. Just the sound of the TV going and the clink of dishes being cleaned.

I walk down the hall to my office and sit down with my coffee cup in hand. Taking small sips, I think about the last time we spoke to each other. Was it yesterday? Or the day before? I lay my head back and close my eyes. We don’t speak much anymore. I’ve learned to accept it. As I’ve learned to accept a lot of things in the last few years.

I could sink into a pool of self-pity, but why? It’s not his fault he became disabled, so racked with pain that taking a simple shower has to be planned ahead of time, just so the pain will be somewhat manageable.

I could rage at the universe and cry an ocean of tears. Again, why? The universe is not to blame for the circumstances that made us lose our home and come to live in a broken-down trailer. It’s a roof over our heads and heat in the winter.

I could rail against it all. I have in the past, I won’t lie about that. I’m human, with faults. So, I railed against something him and I had no control over. I cried, I felt sorry for myself. Worse of all, I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away from the pain. His pain and mine. I wanted to run fast and as far as I could. Halfway across the world.

I didn’t run. I couldn’t run. I won’t run.

Instead, I learned compassion. Compassion for him. He doesn’t want to be in this much pain. Every single day, every single minute, to live in pain. Who would want that? So I find my compassion for him. My patience. My desire to help ease his suffering if I can. Which I can’t.

I can only help him suffer less. I will settle for that.

I have also learned to have compassion for myself. That was the hardest part. To be gentle with myself as much as I am gentle with him. I make mistakes, I lose my temper, I get frustrated, I get depressed. It’s ok to feel all these things. I will NOT beat myself up over having these feelings because they never last. I can’t let them. I won’t let them. I feel them and then I let them go without the guilt.

I open my eyes, sip my coffee and keep an ear out for him as I face my computer and do what I know I’m good at. Writing words.

I write the words I cannot speak out loud. I write the words that my soul feels. I write the words that I have learned. I write my heart. That’s how I learn compassion all over again.

 

 

 

Posted in Mi Vida Loca, Monday Meeting, nonfiction

Monday Meeting ~~ June 13, 2016

It’s been quite a while since I wrote one of these Monday Meeting posts. So grab yourself something to drink and sit a spell.

 

Monday Meeting

 

Let me just freshen my coffee and I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to.

Ah, there we go. So, how is everyone doing? I’ve read about the terrible shooting in Orlando. So sad. I’ve read a lot of comments on posts about the shooting and let me ask you something…..has everyone gone completely crazy?? I tell you the comments are almost as bad as the shooting! People! Where has your common sense gone? Where is your compassion? Your love of other human beings? It saddened me that there were so many hateful comments. So many people took the opportunity to rant about the US government and blame Obama once more. Obama is no more to blame than I am! Come on people. One man went in there. One man made the decision to shoot those people. One man decided he was more important, more worthy, more whatever and decided to kill a bunch of strangers. One man with a gun. And his name wasn’t Obama.

Then, of course, you had comments that went off the rail about gun control. I won’t even go there. People need to wake up and smell the gun powder……but enough said on that also. My blog is not going to be the stomping ground for arguments. I won’t go there. I just feel so terribly sad for the many people affected by one man’s decision. The world is a scary, scary place where you have a place with little gun control and possibly a future president that is just as crazy and egotistical as the shooter.

I love my homeland, the USA but I’m so very sad of where it is right now and where it’s heading.

That’s about as political as I’ll ever get on here. Sorry folks. Just had to get it out there.

On to more personal news. The husband is finished with his chemo treatments. Yay!! This was his last month of them. He says he’s feeling better and his stomach seems to be doing much better. We have one more visit with the Cancer Clinic at the end of the month. Of course, he will have to have another CAT scan and colonoscopy to make sure everything is ok. They have already told us that he will have to be monitored for the next three to five years to make sure he stays cancer free. Still, it’s good to hear him say he’s feeling better.

That’s not going to help his health in other ways. He will always be disabled and in pain because of his back but at least we don’t have to worry too much about cancer now. And believe me, that was one big worry. It will also mean fewer pills for him to take, fewer doctor visits, less hospital visits. Less of a lot of things. So, it’s all good.

As for me. I seem to be in limbo. Ever since my mom died a couple of weeks ago, I feel like I’m just treading water. One good thing that has come out of it is that my sister and I are talking again. We are back to being friends……well…..back to being sisters anyway. Maybe the friend part will come later. I call her every weekend and we talk for a couple of hours. It’s nice. Especially since I was feeling a bit adrift as I used to call my mom every weekend.

Otherwise, I’ve been reading. A lot. One book after another. It’s what I seem to fall back on when I’m grieving. I remember I did it when I found out dad had died too. I just buried myself in books. Maybe I’m hiding. I don’t know. It’s my way to deal with things. I haven’t been writing. I just can’t seem to settle long enough to write. I do hope it will pass. I’m sure it will. Do you think it will?

I’ve also been cleaning house. Getting rid of stuff we don’t use. Just overall cleaning. It tires me out so I can sleep at night. It also makes me sore as hell but the place is looking good! I found out I’m not as young as I used to be. I tell you this getting older is hell. Things I used to do with ease, even ten years ago, is much harder now. I have aches where I never had them. Sigh. I hate that part of growing older. Better than the alternative, eh.

So, as with life, there have been bad things and good things going on. I’m hoping for more good for a while. I need to step back from the bad…..just for a bit longer…..and adjust.

 

 

 

How have you been lately?