Inadvertent Hiatus, Random, Life and Otherwise. DID, writing, gardens. All has been put on hiatus for no other reason than . . .
well, I don’t know. Our daughter came down for Mothers Day. That set us back some, but I paid attention and learned something. ‘We’ (or at least a lot of us) tend to ‘hole up’ when our daughter’s around. That’s because our daughter and us are too much alike in some ways; not enough in others. You know what that means. Fight, argue, complain – tho’ I’ve learned not to, she’s still young – and somehow? I just keep on managing to hit those buttons – without meaning to. So I – or at least some of my parts – ‘hole up’ and ‘we’ protect ourselves from her. What this means is a really flat self, emotionally speaking. Yeah, we “kinda love her” – but with guard up and defensive armor at full strength. It’s an unconditional love . . . but even still, with someone you love sometimes you gotta keep your defenses up – and your emotions deep inside.
Things haven’t been going well, but for no unidentifiable reason. Not that there has been any bad news. Neither thrilled nor depressed. But somethings up. I don’t know. But there are dark unsettlings; ramblings in the basement, rumblings from beneath the floor. That’s where I’m keeping all the dead bodies stored today (wry grin) – those bodies of memories and selves I’d rather ignore. There again, this may be a ‘daughter’ thing; we are still recovering from that. No, nothing bad happened; it’s just we’ve noticed this effect when she comes to visit – and it’s gotten more severe. A ‘distancing’ of self with her.
We are going on a trip – no, not another mental one, ha-ha (for those of you who were reading back last August) – and not for us, but our wife, who . . .
Well, going back to that trip we took last fall. My wife changed on me. That’s only fair, ‘we’ changed on her – quite a bit! – and caused her some fear, grief and confusion and perhaps a sense of loss. (“I never knew I could know such a depth of feeling!” she has said) – but ultimately more gain than loss. She’s more open with me; and yet still reserved (that’s always been a big problem with her). She’s lost her patience with this world, the BS that goes on (she says). “It’s like I’m always on my last nerve,” she says, referring to the amount of patience she has left using the old Southern term. She blames it on what the doctors told her – or rather, what a nurse would not let her have: access to where I was, how I was doing, and all that sort of nonsense. I was perfectly fine, making friends FAST among the patients and staff while I worked on an escape plan. After all, there was nothing better to do than lead an organized revolt to cover my way outta there – plus that’s what I’ve beentrained to do as part of my “pow” training – instinctive, kind of . . . plus, you wouldn’t believe what a bribe of some sugar-free candy can get you in there . . .
LOL, and one of the doctors said I was ‘scary’. (Not my behavior; just ME and what I know . . . what might have happened to me as a child . . .)
From DaphneR:“This is the most outstanding and touching book I have read in a very long time. The characters feel so real and you really understand their deepest thoughts and feelings. J.W. does a fantastic job of conveying the deranged and conflicting thoughts of people with D.I.D. Then, you can’t help but love and feel sympathy for Jeffery, a sweet innocent and loving little boy that’s been given so much disturbingly, terrible abuse and torture from his cruel, deranged father. Yet, Jeffery stays so strong and forgiving throughout the entire ordeal. The whole time I just wanted to pick him up and hold him. I also sympathize with Jeffery because I had a somewhat similar childhood, though not nearly as bad. I understand his feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, and fear toward other people. Matt’s fatherly relationship with Jeffery is very touching, and J.W. makes their feelings seem so genuine and real. I cried many times while reading this entire story, but loved every minute of it. This was a spectacular story of love, loss, abuse, and hope that I will remember for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to read Part 2 when it comes out.”
Thank you, DaphneR. If there was anything about this book that I wanted, it was just to put the readers on a real roller coaster ride of emotion and moral conflict. I think when you said “I cried many times while reading this entire story, but loved every minute of it” – you made my day – because that conflict of emotions is sometimes what I live with every day. And it gets hard. And yes, I am hoping to have Part 2 done by the end of the year. But it has been very slow going thus far; we haven’t been inspired – but it’s reviews like that which help me dig in my heels and hang on – and try to get to work on that . . .
Which brings me back to this weekend. We are going on a trip, the wife and I – abandoning life to go somewhere where she can rest what appears to have been a very battered and bruised soul inside somewhere. Not me – she says that all the time: “It’s not YOU . . . it’s them” – and throwing her arm out towards the world.
But sometimes I wonder if it is me. Because it wasn’t until I changed that she changed. But I changed (she says) in a ‘wonderful way’; she says I seem better all around (not the ‘flat’ person I am today) – that I have more fun and am more fun to be around. (Oddest thing: people have called me a ‘hoot’ before; meaning someone who is funny . . .)
But she . . . well, I’m gonna write and dig into this kinda stuff – maybe ply her with alcohol? Never a wise decision: that woman can drink me, and old Marine, under the table and still ask for more . . .But at least if I’m down there she can kick me (taking out her aggression on the world) – and I won’t feel it . . . after all? – what are husbands for. (wryly smiling). But (and I do this fearfully and with trepidation – as most us husbands do) – I need to ‘dig in’ and see what is wrong. (“Waking up” the ‘professional’ psychologist in me.) Do you know that the people you have the hardest time ‘seeing’ is sometimes the people closest to you? I believe it’s because our eyes are colored by our emotions. And you can’t see yourself, not unless you’re really looking close – REAL close – which is something most people don’t ever bother to do. “We” (and by this I mean ‘you’ and the rest of mankind, including my self sometime) – rarely look deeply inside and question why we are feeling some emotion, or ‘where did that thought come from?’. We can just guess at what other people are thinking . . . and sometimes about our own selves and internal workings . . . and ‘who’ is in control . . .