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Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Personal · #2153114
caution: these thoughts are depressed. I know Hope, and I must not act on feelings.
14 july 2012

There is relief knowing B. has come through surgery, yet I want to know if the tumor is benign or malignant. Reassurances of the low percentage of malignant pheochromocytomas is not sufficient to allay my concern. Someone is in the 10 percent of non-benign--

I continue to pray--grateful to have received the email update from Saturday/Sunday PM here--does that mean the path report is back?

My sketches are hesitant, faint pencil marks--I try to darken and, with effort, achieve some color intensity. Is that how my emotions are? Highs, lows with effort? I find I want to sit in the turret curve--somewhat to hide--if the feelings become intense, but also able to peer out and express myself from the security of the solid backing. These recent weeks I have been aware of intensity in my emotions an overwhelming fear, grief- B. suggested that I feared abandonment- or felt it as possible abandonment surrounding his surgery. I think I agree--the surgery and my awareness of the seriousness brought up memories and feelings from Nancy's illness and death. I lost a mentor, friend, confidant, arts/crafts buddy, summer camp companion. Though B. does not fill those roles, the time in therapy has been akin to mentor, friend, confidant--of fears, thoughts, beliefs that are not "safe" to share with many people. I do fear abandonment. I fear being "cut-off" from the relationship. The words "needy", "dependent" are ones my self talk brings up, but they seem accurate. What balanced person would get so distressed over not being able to talk with someone? I have friends that are mostly safe to be open with--a couple that are quite close. Yet when I have talked about the "being heard" feeling at therapy I have felt pain--known an awareness of impermanence, impending loss of the therapy relationship and felt my heart seize. why?

This question echoes: why????

16 july 2012

An argument for an end:
One might say that I should argue against ending it, but that is the popular route. I will not conform--

In fact, that is a very good starting point in my argument for--
Conformity-- I attended St. Joes Elementary School for 1st thru 8th Grades. I learned conformity. Simple enough if one follow the rules: Uniforms, behavior, rote prayers--stations of the cross, rosary, protocol for confession, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it has been...since my last confession", ritual of the Mass: Stand, Sit, Stand, Kneel, etc. I learned conformity through my desire to be obedient, be a "good girl" and through the painful lessons of being pointed out for any irregularity in my behavior, attire or being. A clique of classmates ridiculing my argyle socks which clashed with grey plaid uniform skirts, my lack of personal hygiene in puberty. Nuns who chose humiliation as a form of discipline if I , or any student, was non-compliant.

Many years of suppressing my desire or distress are being peeled away. I feel some freedom in acknowledging my difference of opinion, of belief really, from the "masses".

When I allow myself to observe the world around me, I feel overwhelmed with grief. On the positive side, I see, for example, the setting of this camp--several acres of wooded property, a Dining Room/Kitchen/Bathroom building, a swimming pool, tents, caravans for the support workers (the laundry lady, and the camp gardener-seamstress handy woman). The camp is a little over a kilometer from a very small village dominated by a 17th century(?) convent which is home to retired nuns. The only business in town is the local bakery. Four kilometers away another small village has a (one) restaurant.

Bon. All fine, but this time, this place, is isolated, insulated.

A yearly retreat from my "real" world. In my "real" world, I have sought year after year to change the chemistry of my primary relationship, with little success...too little? I, so pompously, ? deluding myself? state that my relationship is so much more solid now than in the past. Well, yes, we state that we are committed to each other. What does that mean? We plan to work alongside each other, live with each other 'til death do us part? Yes, but am I doing him any good? I am still discontent with the content of our relationship and he's not to blame-- I take responsibility for my discontent.

I come with a problem. I don't come with a solution.

I have kept a journal periodically for twenty years and the theme that occurs over and over is, "I want more of him, more time with him, more connection." In my defense, I have made suggestions at times through the years, and I admit and recognize that until 2007, or even 2008 or 2009, J. was unable to put trust in me, in us, because (partially) he was not invested truthfully, openly, honestly in us. He has made great change. He does not react to me, I try not to react to him. We try to respond. So that's all much improved, but, really...

in my life out there--exposed to the "real" world, I see pain, death, hopelessness.

Is that lack of faith? I understand Hope, as in hope of Eternal Life, but I see life on this earth as sad. There are moments of peace, joy, contentment...

Right not, though. I am seriously considering scheduling a date, after camp, alone with myself, to decide whether to continue the fight (or not) of this life...

My individual life seems quite futile, and certainly dispensable and I do not want to see another loss. It really surprised me how deeply the possibility of another loss struck a nerve. I hurt yet to remember the feeling. It is raw, wide, yawning, seeking to suck me into it.

17 july, 2012

I have asked several times, am I going to be, at risk of being, terminated?

This fear hangs over me like a hangman's noose--ready to be dropped around my neck before I am yanked out of this painful existence.

Melodramatic? Yes--but explicit of the impression in my head, my "self talk".

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