Six Months

Six months to the day since the worst day of my life.

I'd had plenty of bad days prior, but nothing that hit me with the same force and power, and nothing that has ever wounded me so deeply.

It would be no exaggeration to say I have not had a good day since. I have had some good moments, but I can't point to any stretch of more than a couple of hours that I have felt good, nor can I say that, even during those times, I was happy.

I hurt now even worse than I did then. The pain is not as sharp, but it is pervasive and consuming. It's an open, festering wound for which I have no treatment or painkiller.

I have tried counseling. I have tried medication. I have tried prayer.

I have fallen into despair and feel no hope that I will ever come back out. I have said it before, I am convinced that this is the new normal for me. There is no getting better: From here on out, this IS better.

Nothing I used to do is any help. Reading is hard. It's difficult to write. I can barely even walk anymore.

I thought I was going to die that day. I think my doctor thought so, too. Of course, lying there twitching on his office floor might have give him that impression.

I wish I had.

How It Feels

I've mentioned before that I struggle with depression. I found these pictures and illustrations that describe how I feel all day, pretty much every day. They say it more eloquently than I ever could.

How it feels

This is the way life feels to me, inside, pretty much every day:

But for me, there's no Miracle Max. No Fezzik. No Inigo Montoya. No princess.

I don't even have any change in my pockets.

Big Fight

Somehow, we blew through an entire paycheck in 5 days.

There's no  money in the bank. No gas in my car, No food in the house.

Money spent on garbage. Thrown away.

$130 dollars a month increase on my healthcare thanks to Obamacare.

I took a second job to try to start getting ahead, or at least stay even.

Now, I'm just trying not to fall behind a little slower.

The confrontation on this was not pretty. I still can't figure out how $50 at the grocery store turns into exactly no food.

I'm not perfect, but I'm trying.

Please God, I know you're out there. I can't do this alone.

Another One of Those Mornings

Got up to get the kids off to school today.

They had five days off, of which I got got to spend about 6 hours with them.

So, of course, at 755, waiting for the 815 bus is, naturally the time to tell me, " I have no clothes to wear to school. I have no lunch money. I can't find my library books. I need my homework signed."

Looks like there was a store run over the weekend, too, as I found a loaf of bread. Probably convenience store bread, which is, what, three dollars a loaf now? That's actually cheap, as that same loaf would have cost about $40 at the grocery store after you factor in junk food and a bag of apples (gotta eat healthy).

I only work six nights a week. I guess it's fair that I do most of the housework, laundry and shopping as well.

That TV ain't gonna watch itself.

Love Stinks

Well, I decided to ask my wife to go out this past Saturday. I got two free tickets to the Improv, which is cool, because it makes it that much easier to afford dinner, which is not cheap there.

We drove all the way there, sat around before the show and chatted, had a nice dinner (steak for her, ahi tacos for me), dessert (Funnel Cake fries, which would just as awesome as they sound), drinks in glasses we got to keep (non-alcoholic, thank you), and enjoyed two solid hours of comedy (Bill Crawford was the featured act, Steve Byrne from Sullivan and Son was the headliner). All told, about a hundred bucks, which is a bit pricey, but, hey, Valentine's Day weekend.

So, we got home and I was expecting her to run right off to bed, as she had to be up for work in just a few hours, which she did. She got in the house and said, "Well, that was fun," and ran off to bed.

I wasn't expecting anything, really. No Quid Pro Quo, Clarice, or anything. But a "thank you" would have been nice.

Just sayin'.

Forgiveness

I had a discussion months ago with Abigail about the concept of forgiveness. I believed it was a two-way street, that in order to forgive someone, that that person first had to be remorseful for their transgressions. She believed that this was not so; that Scriptures require us to forgive someone even if they don't ask us for forgiveness. She was right, as usual.

In the New Testament, there are numerous discussions of forgiveness. We are supposed to forgive any transgression, as many times as necessary, even "unto seven times seventy times."  Even if the person doesn't ask for our forgiveness.

I'm unclear as to some of the specifics, though. Even of we forgive, are we to roll over every time the transgressor hurts us? That doesn't make sense. It seems to me that with unlimited, unconditional forgiveness, we simply give an abuser license to abuse us. There seems to be an implication that there can be a last time to forgive, a 491st transgression, if you will.

Or perhaps, that we have the right to remove ourselves from the presence of the transgressor. You may forgive someone who abuses you, but if you stick around, you have to expect to be doing a lot more forgiveness, as an abuser will take it as consent.

I say all this because I received an apology note from my wife for picking a fight on Wednesday night. I can forgive that. I have before. But there is a fundamental disagreement, an underlying argument that is irreconcilable. I don't see any way to work around it. Every time I want to talk about anything  even remotely related, no matter how peripherally, she reacts with instinctive hatred and animosity. So, I have to tiptoe around a subject that has become central to my life for fear of provoking an angry reaction.

It's not fair to me and it's not fair to her. If she's going to have the opportunity to learn what I have learned and experience what I have experienced, it will necessarily have to be without me: My presence will prejudice her against acceptance. If I'm around, she will never accept and the conflict will make everyone around miserable.

We were always friends, which I think was a strength of our relationship.We enjoyed doing things together, going places, seeing movies and plays, amusement parks, hiking. Tomorrow night, I got free tickets to the Improv; We'll go and have dinner and maybe laugh out loud. But I think our spiritual journey, the most important of all our travels together, is likely coming to an end. I've gone someplace where she refuses to follow, and to go back would be to turn my back on God. I have work to do here, and she doesn't want to be a part of it, resents the need I feel to do that work.

I'll forgive her for that, but like I said before, the chasm between us has likely grown too wide and deep to be spanned, and it may be better to part now (or soon), while we can still BE friends, or at least friendly. I don't know where to go from here. Or, rather, I kind of do, but I'm not strong enough yet to make that leap of faith.

Life is hard.

A Tad High

Just had my blood pressure taken, or as I like to say, "tooken."
Tomorrow, it will be three weeks since I quit my medications. This is, incidentally, almost the exact time I was off my medications before my stroke four years ago. My blood pressure was 163/108, which is, according to the American Heart Association, just 2 points diastolic (the lower number) from requiring emergency hospitalization. Which I would refuse anyway.

So, my headaches and dizziness are not just side effects of withdrawal from my antidepressants, but have an actual medical cause. I've my left eyelid tends to be a little lower than the right when my eyes are fully open, and that's new. My heart beats faster and harder now when I walk at what used to be my normal pace, and I get short of breath fairly quickly. I've noticed my left eye also sometimes goes out of focus, and sometimes I get bright bands of flashing "lights" behind my eyelids.

I'm curious as to what my cholesterol is, now that I've stoped those medications, as well.

It's amazing how quickly the human body can deteriorate when you just lose interest in going on.

I'll keep you posted.

Fell Down Went Boom

So, after work this morning, I drove an hour through the wind and snow and finally made it into my driveway (which I still refuse to shovel until I can't actually get the car into it), and had to take the dog for her morning excursion.
Four-Tenths of a mile and five arms-windmilling slides through the streets later, I finally edged my way up my snow and ice encrusted front steps, clearing them somewhat as I went.

By the time I left for work eight hours later, they were again even more snow covered and still ice encrusted, though not so much, as I cleared them with my behind as I fell then slid all the way down.

I drove all the way to work sitting in a puddle of my own failure to remain upright.

When I spoke with my wife from work a little while later, I opined that it would be really cool if she could find two bored kids to find two nice snow shovels and maybe clear the front part of the driveway. And if not, then at least make the steps less snow covered and ice encrusted.

I wouldn't bet a nickle that it will be done when I get home. I'll get to fall back up the steps before falling back down them to take the dog for the walk she demands every time I get home, rain, shine, snow, sleet, hail, smog.

And all that in temperatures that will be somewhere south of zero and winds of between 25 and 30 mph.

Or, as my dad would call it when I was young, "Time for [me] to get out there and get that driveway cleared." And I wasn't even bored, just available. AND he would get me up an hour earlier than normal just to clear the driveway and sidewalk so he could get in his car and drive to work. Even on days when school was cancelle, which it rarely was because our parents either didn't care as much about us, or because they knew pain builds character. And intense pain makes less wimpy brats.

Oh well, I take comfort in the fact that, no matter what my lot in life, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.



UPDATE: While the driveway remained essentially unshoveled (my daughter did about six square feet in a couple places), my wife managed to scrape the top layer off the snow on the steps, which at least left a nice, packed-down layer to walk on, rather than the lumped mounds that dropped me. So, 'E' for effort. You should have bet that nickel.