I'll Carry On Until I Can't

I have to give myself permission to have a day off.  Richard is away until sometime after lunch so have the morning to do (or not do!) whatever I want.  Have stumbled through most of the chores although still have to vacuum, especially as Natalia and Nairobi both demanded to be brushed and wisps of grey or black hair floated down the hall before I could catch them.  But I'm not in a hurry to vacuum.  I'm not in a hurry at all.  My next 'must do' is the noon crow nosh up.  Until then I can bludge.

I remember after Mom died my then husband Wayne dreamed of her.  He dreamed she was in a beautiful place where she could rest from the rigours of life.  A phrase which has been running through my head is, 'I'll carry on until I can't'.  I'm afraid if I let any one of these balls juggling in the air above me fall, then a Bad Thing will happen.  A Bad Thing would be letting Parkinsons have its way with Richard without opposition.  A Bad Thing would be for something to happen to Richard (a fall, a faint) and me not know.  A Bad Thing would be loss of mental acuity or physical ability in me.  A Bad Thing would be shame because I'd stopped trying to be this and that and whatever, that I'd just stopped trying.  A Bad Thing would be to give in to fear, to depression.  A Bad Thing would be to Surrender.  Tears form in my eyes as I write this.   I'm tired and a bit sad.  I understand why after someone dies they just get to stop and catch their breath for awhile.  Life is lovely, life is adventure, but unless you're comatose, it's exhausting too.

I think a vivid dream I had this morning is leaving an aftertaste.  In the dream I met a man.  He was articulate, intelligent, compassionate and very interested in me.  I didn't have an affair, there was no sex but I did kiss him and when I kissed him I clung to him like a drowning woman clings to a lifeboat.  In the dream Richard was away overnight.  I was so tempted to sleep with this man and I did, fully clothed, get into bed with him, but nothing happened except that I was ashamed and exhilarated at the same time. 

I love Richard.  I admire him.  I will see us through all this and do whatever it takes to try and keep him well and happy for as long as I can.  But there is a personal toll.  I'm no longer a lover and a wife.  I am a carer.  I am watchful all the time.  I am on guard all the time.  On his good days, I relax a little.  On his bad days, I man the ramparts and march.  Conversations are of the garden variety.  There are areas we do not go.  There are many areas we cannot go.  I do not talk down to him but I simplify. 

It's lonely and I feel sorry for myself which brings guilt when I have so much and most people in the world have so little.  Lonely, self-pitying, guilt-ridden and ashamed.  It's a slippery slope to climb.  I am of a cheerful nature and this state of mind does not sit well yet it is difficult to change by an act of will.

I suppose that's the crux.  I have brought my will to bear on so many things and changed them.  Energy, effort and belief.  If I want to do something badly enough I can do it.  (Think that's why I'm so fierce at the gym.  Working out Really Hard is something I can control).  But I cannot will away the Parkinsons which has robbed me of my husband.  I cannot will this house to sell sooner rather than later.  I cannot will my sadness away.

So do I surrender?  I read uplifting posts from The Tattooed Buddha and Rebelle; warrior posts about fierce priestess types who grab Life by the throat and wring it dry with their Mach II creative power, divinely inspired posts about the Divine in all of us, pragmatic posts about the life we chose and the lessons learned. 

It makes me tired.  So do I surrender?  Maybe I'll just vacuum and feed the crows.