Choice

The holiday season is now upon us and people are making all kinds of choices; what gifts to buy for Christmas, where to go, what to prepare, how they should medicate to handle family.  All kinds of fun stuff to think about. 

I however, this holiday, am not making any decisions of that sort. The ones I must make are much larger and much more significant than those.  I have reached a crossroads in my life that cannot be ignored.  The dynamic of my existence has been altered, and yes much of it was my doing, but I am no longer in a place of contentment.  I am not able to continue the progression of self that I was reveling in after my recovery.  I have allowed myself to become stunted.  And although I have been able to work through some of this in my head while managing the chaos of my thoughts through exercise and work, I am currently nursing a broken foot and am unable to be active.  So I think.  I lament.  Which has brought me back to my writing, (this blog), where I can spew my feelings and thoughts out because I can no longer keep them in.  Writing is my outlet.  It is sometimes my last resort because putting things on paper makes them more real and that sometimes can be really fucking scary. 

I took time last night to read through my prior blog entries.  Like before much of that already published prose, I was terrified of facing those truths, writing them down, making them real.  But after reading through them I clearly remember how good and clear I felt letting all that go. Flowing out of me onto the page without a care. Embracing the truth about myself while evolving into the woman I am continually becoming. So here I am back at my computer bearing my soul for the entire world or no one at all to see.

I have been with my husband, Keane, for fifteen years.  Together almost eight prior to marriage, and married for seven thus far.  I married the kindest and most intelligent person I know.  Both are qualities to be revered and admired in a person, especially the kindness part.  We, like all people, have had good times and bad.  It feels we’ve lived a lifetime of experiences together already and we are only 38 and 42 years old, respectively.  No matter what was bothering us or what issue plagued us, we focused on the good.  We talked about our issues and didn’t hide from or tuck away our problems. Some of them we could just never find any solid resolution.  We sometimes overcompensated for what lacked, but what was lacking wasn’t too terrible in most instances, as everything else was so right, so good. 

Sometimes things change.  I say things because I don’t believe people change.  People either reveal who they really are over time or simply become tired of hiding their true selves.  Events can trigger responses or reactions that reveal things about a person.  I know it did me.  My stroke revealed a lot about me to myself and how much I was loved.  It also showed me that hell is most definitely paved with the best and most loving of intentions.

I am an emotionally reactionary person. I am proactive in my work, my life, my tasks.  But emotionally I am reactionary.  I don’t always stop to process how something has affected me before I respond to it.  Which I can tell you, with the utmost of certainty, isn’t always a good approach.   When I was given a “clean” bill of health and had been deemed recovered and healthy by my neurologist after this ridiculous medical ordeal, I was looking to celebrate.  I wanted to live my life not plan to live it.  I no longer wanted an existence of delayed gratification or extreme discipline. I wanted to be free to have experiences and enjoy the second chance to breathe I had been given.  This attitude did not mesh well with that of Keane who was all about sticking to our extremely difficult and rigid dietary and supplement-required regimen. 

Keane made it his job to take care of me.  He was steadfast in doing so every step of my recovery.  I know that I would not have recovered as quickly or perhaps as completely without him.  I had the will and the strength to live beyond what was happening to me, but Keane always provided the safest and most loving environment for me to heal.  I always felt safe and never worried during my recovery.  I knew everything in our world was being taken care of, especially me.  So, when I came to the point where I no longer was the patient, I had expectations that the nursing and the monitoring would stop.  It was no longer needed. I was healthy.  I had survived and was becoming stronger than ever.  What I did not realize was that Keane had not lived through my stroke.  He was still in the trauma of it.  There was aftermath for him.  And I did not consider it. 

I was wrapped up and enamored with my recovery.  I was running and exercising, becoming stronger with my yoga practice and reconnecting with the people in my life that really knew me. There was even a brief time where Keane and I had seemed to reveal a newfound connection.  Unfortunately that connection was fleeting. Over time we had nurtured a vicious cycle of him trying to take care of me and keep me safe and me running as far into the fast lane as I could.   The more I wanted to live the more Keane tried to pin me down to keep me safe.  The more he tried to protect me from the things that could harm me, the more I wanted to rebel.  It was like a teenage girl defying her father for the thrill of it.  I told myself it was a phase we were going through, just two different approaches to the second chance I had.  I kept running in my own direction and he kept trying to dictate my being.  It was trying.  It was aggravating.  It was stressful.  And it was disastrous. 

Being a bit removed of this dynamic for a few months now, I can see how insensitive I was to Keane’s fears and worries.  And he can now see how he was a bit mental over wanting to oversee every particle I ingested and every activity I took part in.  I know that all of his efforts, no matter how maddening to me at the time, were out of love and concern for my well being.  I also know they were out of fear.  I forget that he almost lost me.  And I often neglected to remind myself that there would have been an affect on others had I died.  Hell I would be dead.  As far as I know there is nothing after that. You just cease to exist.  Yet it is not the dead that concern itself with death, but the living left behind.   I almost left him behind.  I came terrifyingly close to leaving him behind.  And I forgot that.  Hell I didn't even think about it. 

I always told people, “I had the stroke but it happened to Keane”.  He had to live with it.  Deal with it all day in and day out for months on end.  I know that.  Somehow I didn't stop to think of the mental and emotional toll it was taking on him.  The trauma he experienced watching me cheat death, especially when I wasn't supposed to.  I was too busy wanting to find normalcy in my body while trying to embark on adventures and have fun with my friends.  I wanted freedom and experiences, not parented, policed or scrutinized at every turn.   We both had very different perspectives on how we should live and behave after the stroke.   We went in opposite directions.  We were chasing our own agendas so long that we became completely disconnected in every way.

So much that I approached him about ending our marriage.

That was almost four months ago.

Now we are in what Keane calls “purgatory”.  And that is exactly what it is. We are still married and still living our life together. But we continue to be painfully disconnected.  Some days I can’t stand the thought of life without him, others I simply can’t stand the sight of him.  I suspect he has similar feelings towards me, although he has never said as much.  

We are both on our own path of self-discovery.  The more I see myself for who I really am and the adventure I want my life to be, the more I question everything about the life I am currently living.  Keane no longer reacts to me in the fevered panic he used to.  I no longer find excuses to get away.  We are both present in where we are and are navigating how we feel.

Like most things I explore in this blog, this is not public knowledge.  Until now.  Only a few close intimate friends and Keane’s family know where we are in this place of limbo we are choosing to live in at the moment.  But we can’t be like this forever.  It’s not fair or pleasant for either of us.  A conscious choice has to be made.   I just hope whatever is decided, is best for us both.  Deep down I know that choice is mine to make…