How can I miss you if you won't go away?

[cjsmith]

I have just now realized something important about this whole foot problem thing, and about how I manage my life as a gimpy person, and about how I react to all of it emotionally.

It's never going to go away.

I don't mean that I finally figured out the feet aren't healing. Nope, even I am not quite that slow on the uptake. But "IT" -- the challenges, the emotional reactions, the occasional really bad days, and all the myriad things I need to do differently -- all of THAT won't go away either. No matter how much I might get used to it, and no matter what level of acceptance I might reach, for this, there is no such thing as getting over it. There is only living with it. I can't "get over" something that will never go away.

I don't mean to be putting myself down, here, or giving myself excuses for becoming a bitter and friendless old prune. On the contrary. I'm giving myself marching orders.

See, I've had losses I can get over and still be me afterwards. Oh, I've had a thin white line on my heart where it grew back together, and I've gotten older and wiser, but basically, I've still been me. To pick a simple but poignant example, I had to murder euthanize the cat I had had for twenty-one years. I mourned like hell. I will never ever forget the way she was purring -- trusting me -- as I handed her over for the lethal injection. I will never ever forget watching her take her last breath or seeing her head fall down onto the towel. I will carry that thin white line on my heart forever. BUT. Before she came into my life I was me. After she was gone from my life I was me. If I have a house burn down, God forbid, or if I work for twenty years to earn and save and invest a million dollars and then somebody steals it, well, these are things I once didn't have and then did have and now don't have again. I'll be hurt and pissed off and maybe bitter, but I'll still be me.

This one is different. It may not hurt half as much as some of the others; I'm not trying to say it's somehow WORSE. It's just in a different CATEGORY. This one is not so much a loss (though it does contain a metric buttload of loss) as it is a change. It is a permanent change to me. I can't "let go of it" and be back to being who I was. From late 2003 and for the rest of my life, I am now someone else. I will manage my pain. I will do the small things: decline outings based on parking, order cheap shoes in batches of twenty, and choose "good days" to do the grocery runs. I will do the big things: I will consciously choose how to plan my life so that it stays worth living, a thing that for most people doesn't take effort, but for the person I have become, it now does take effort and conscious planning, and I will do that planning. For the rest of my life.

That is not only okay, and something I can learn to accept, but it is in fact the best possible outcome I can hope for. What I should not and cannot expect of myself is that I will one day be done. There is no done.


I've been hoping to reach the point where I can say I'm over this, I'm past it, I've been through my mourning, I'm done, and now it's time for the rest of my life. I've been disappointed in myself for not getting there. Now I realize I can quit scolding myself. The fact I'm not done does not indicate some kind of moral failing on my part. There is no done! There is only living with it and managing it. There is only Zuul oops, sorry. I may gain more acceptance and get better at planning things, but in terms of "letting go" or "getting over it" this is it. I am already as done as I will ever be.

It's really encapsulated in that one sentence I used up near the top of this post: I can't "get over" something that will never go away.

It's freeing, in a sense. At least I can ditch the expectation.

Comments

[cjsmith.livejournal.com]

I think you're still you. You were you before, and you'll be you from here on out.

Oh, but I'm so completely different! We may differ on this based only on semantics, of course, and what we mean when we use these particular words. But I used to *be* -- not act, but BE -- self-reliant, somewhat lacking in compassion at times, and blissfully happy when in a tent ten miles from the nearest road. I am now none of those things and they cannot ever be regained. They've been burned away. Does that mean I've changed, or does that mean those things weren't the core of me? Either way, it's a hell of a thing to grapple with.

(Alzheimer's, for example... if I get ten years deep into that, is what I am still the essence of me? I sure as hell HOPE NOT. But again, word usage might be the only thing at odds here.)

I'm glad you've found this for yourself, so you can ditch that expectation.

Yeah. And if I can gain some level of peace in the face of others who still DO have that expectation of me, so much the better. Because there will indeed be people who blame me for not being "over it". Thank the beneficent Universe, most people haven't been through this particular epiphany.

...the core of me is still ME. Figuring out who that is, is, I think, the ultimate task.

That's a toughie, indeed. When we're young we may label ourselves for our roles: the bad boy, the smart kid, the goody-two-shoes. Later we may label ourselves for our attributes: energetic, cheerful, smart. Then something like this comes along, clearly with the power to wipe out any of that stuff I just listed, and what is it that then remains to be labeled the core, the essence? That's a big, deep question to answer. I sure haven't answered it yet. (Which may be why I phrased stuff as "I'm no longer me" earlier.)

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, for sharing this part of you.

Thanks for "getting it" and for your response!

[dawnd.livejournal.com]

What is "self-reliant"? Does it only count if it's "complete"? And if so, are ANY of us in this country really self-reliant? I still see you as self-reliant, within the new set of limitations that you now have. You still have a fierce determination to do whatever you can, as much on your own as you can. What's "core" and what's something else? I don't know, and we may, in fact, just be discussing something that's more about semantics, than about... um... the core of this issue. ;^)


Because there will indeed be people who blame me for not being "over it".

Ouch. Yeah. Sadly, there will. At least now, "those people" won't include yourself. :^)


I find it very interesting, BTW, that your post and this post from purplerabbit (http://purplerabbit.livejournal.com/206378.html) appeared next to one another on my Flist (and also at the same time that I am so deeply grappling with what "self" is, and what my "meaning" is in the world). I hear her expressing some similar things as you have, about how changed she has been.

[cjsmith.livejournal.com]

At least now, "those people" won't include yourself. :^)

EXACTLY! That's it EXACTLY! ...sorry for the shouting, but you just put your finger on the best nugget of this whole thing, for me. It's like a fifty-pound pack just got lifted from my back.

Thank you for linking purplerabbit's post here. Wow. Yes. I have not had the experiences she has, and yet there are parts of what she wrote there that really resonate for me. Permanent effects, permanent changes, and who the *self* is through all of that. The isolation and the rage. The knowledge that the previous self is now gone, not someone you can be again. More rage. The redemption, if that's not too powerful a word, of the love of others.