Constant Vigilance until Death

Constant vigilance.  That's how life seems to be lived at times, as though I am standing sentinel at the gates of my experience.  Does this thing I'm about to do or think pass muster?   Is it good enough, does it align with the rules I've set for myself and if not what price in guilt will I pay?  A momentary 'bugger' and move on or will I think about it the next day and the next?  How much guilt is enough guilt?  And if my thoughts are not always generous and kind, unselfish and loving, how much self disgust is enough?  Even if I don't act on those thoughts, the very fact that I've had them proves how bad a person I am. 

I often feel trapped now.  I won't leave Richard, I'll see it through but what I envisioned for myself and what I've got, especially in the future, is not the same.  Sometimes I feel as though I can't breathe.  I long for positions with long vistas and height.  I want big sky and lots of air around me.  I know why this is and why I am so anxious to move.  Then I feel guilty for thinking these things, for feeling these things when I have so much and most of the world has so little.  How dare I complain?  How dare I even feel these things?  Hence the vigilance.  Gratitude is a constant mantra.  Mostly it works, sometimes it doesn't.  Sometimes joy, under a blue sky with infinity beyond, imbues my very being with song.  But joy isn't summoned, it just arrives, unannounced. 

And I'm alone.  No parents for advice, no best friend that I can burden with the 'badness' of my honest feelings.  I know Richard senses my restlessness.   He is more loving, more vocal about his love for me than ever before  - and he has always been a loving man.  If he loves me enough I won't leave him to face the future alone.  He's scared too and God knows what he's going through.  I think he's still of the belief that Parkinsons isn't progressive.  That how he is now is how he'll always be. 

But I know it ain't so.  And that looming oppressive cloud colours much.  My vigilance includes him.  I listen for him.  Has he made a noise in the shed, is that a gate closing, did I just hear him speak to one of the dogs?  After he fainted last year, I listen.  What if he collapses and I don't know?   His health is good other than Parky but still, he did faint and no one discovered why.  So I remain vigilant.  Always vigilant. 

And frankly, I'm sick of it.  I want to relax into my life, into myself.  So I'm not perfect, I think bad selfish thoughts, I allow myself to get scared, I eat too much sometimes or have too much wine occasionally, so what?  This life is over so quickly.  Hell, I'm nearly 60 now (and how the hell did that happen?!?) and before I know it I'll be breathing my last.  I don't want to regret the past and think, well crap, why did I waste so much time worrying about everything?  THIS dying, now this is something to worry about except this is my last breath so it's too late.  Oh cra....