Days—Wonderful and Difficult (Mouse Over)

Dear Kim,

Today was a challenging day with both wonderful and difficult aspects.

I spent last night and this morning with dear friends at their new home and went to the theatre this afternoon.

As an unexpected treat, I was able to see a piece of theatre that delighted me and had an opportunity to talk with the playwright, director, and composer/lyricist.

These are all things I am really needing right now. To be nurtured and stimulated both by friends and by art. Two of my closest companions.

But...and there are a lot of buts here...

My mother is so weak, she needed a transfusion.

And my sister is having a hard time with my brother who is back from New York to continue solving the mystery of my mother's decline.

(Kim: Only someone like your brother can be helpful here...so be grateful. When my mom was ill noone could get any good info from the docs.)

(Joan: I am grateful. We all are. I just wish he didn't have to be so arrogant and condescending about things. It makes it much more difficult. And he is not in this alone. She is my father's wife and my mother, too. But your point is well taken.)

She is torn between being deeply appreciative for his expertise and commitment and struggling with his arrogance and brusqueness about all medical things. And not just medical. Also culinary. Conversational. Even her driving.

So, comforting my sister and helping her through this when she is there and I am here, is hugely on my mind.

And then there is Pseudonym.

One of the reasons I have taken this time out is to try to make sense of things with Pseudonym. To try to finally decide what is the best next chapter with her in all of this and not be seduced by her interest in me. Especially when it is not interest that seems to help me to be my most authentic and productive self.

(Kim: Your relationship with P continues to amaze me. I think you are as bad as I am at letting go. Me from my job and you from your lover.)

(Joan: Agreed. Well, it doesn't quite feel right to end it long distance. But I can feel it winding down. It is very strange. She called me this afternoon to say that she didnt want to talk with me for 24 hours.We hadn't talked since friday and I hadn't planned on calling today because I am tired and don't want to be on the phone. So her call, or perhaps non call, was quite puzzling and I am not quite sure what it was about.)

I have talked with Pseudonym several times over the course of the past few days. She is very concerned about what is going on and also how I am handling the stress. She loves my family and bonded with them when my sister got sick. But her main concern is me. There is a sweetness in that.

I really appreciate her concern. But the emotional connect to want to talk deeply about this with her or to feel comforted by her support is just not there for me. and I have tried deeply to locate it for myself. To ask myself where my resistance is. And why.

Instead, I have found myself turning to other people for comfort, to share how I am feeling. Or to problem solve around all of this.

It may partly be an issue of language. Despite many talents and fine qualities, Pseudonym doesn't have the verbal language or ability to conceptualize to talk deeply enough about this—or really much else—and to dialogue about the complexities in a way that is satisfying for me.

(Kim: People who feel but can't talk about it turn to drugs/alcohol for solace. Does she?)

(Joan: Yes. How did you know? She is also trying not to.)

(Kim: The combination of her being so needy, being erratic, and not being able to share her feelings.)

I believe and know that she feels things deeply. But the language part is not there. Even though she is highly feeling and has a very generous and tender heart.

And without language, I can only go so far in an intimate exchange.

My stomach hurts.

It feels like loss upon loss upon loss.

(Kim: I'm sorry. The bittersweet quality of life is certainly a mystery.)

(Joan: Yes, it is. Thank you for your gentleness right now.)

Later,

Joan

Sunday, Jan 22, 2006

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