Sunday, February 3, 2013

Taking the Roller Coaster into a Dark Tunnel

The last few weeks have been rough on me.  I felt like I was free-falling in the dark.  Or riding a roller-coaster in the dark - no idea what would hit next from where.  It was making me physically nauseated.  Then I can't eat well.  Then I get tired.  And cold.  I got so cold one night that it took a few hours and some external heat to get me to warm up enough to rest.

Change is difficult.  As difficult as "normal" is, change is more difficult.  Of course, it has the potential to change to better than what now is, but change is difficult.  And change where you have no idea what is happening, little say in the process, and small trust in those making decisions is even more difficult.  I'm hitting almost complete exhaustion trying to cope with all that is happening.

I worked last night at the old people's home. In some ways, it is a good break from my life.  Comic relief, and I was in the tubbing room all night with the roasting heater on and steamy water.  At supper, I fed one sweet lady who doesn't like to eat. I kept coming back to try to sweet-talk her into just one more bite.  Finally she looked at me and said, "still haven't got rid of you yet?"  And I told her, "No, sweetie, you've just got the most beautiful smile, I just keep coming back for more."  And she replied, "Well, I'm working it, aren't I?"  Another lady was wandering all night confused and agitated, so a coworker gave her a hug and told her that she had beautiful eyes. She looked up agitated and said, "It's not my eyes I'm looking for, I'm looking for my brain!"  It is moments like these that give me a break from my daily life and make me smile.

But on a daily basis, I'm only just hanging in.  Needing more sleep than normal.  Struggling to manage all my tasks, and feeling on the edge of crying, feeling scared.  Trying still to be my kid's strong point, stable person in the middle of change.

At work at the school, I finally just popped into the office of a friend for five minutes.  He was busy, but that was ok.  All I really needed was to be seen by someone who knows what is going on.  To just be seen for a minute.  Those people who know and have been there for me.  Just to be seen.  To know there are people in my world who are there for me.

Change is terrifying.  So was "normal".  But I had established ways of coping for the normal.  This is like riding a roller-coaster in the pitch dark.  And nothing is going to happen until mid-March, so I've got to learn to function in this bewildering situation for a few weeks yet. 

I'd love just some time off - time alone.  But I always need to balance my needs with my kid's needs, and that is where like is a delicate balance at times.

1 comment:

Shan in Japan said...

Praying that you can find some time off, even for a few minutes while your kids' needs are being taken care of and they are in a safe place. If I was there, I'd provide it for you.