A Living Death

After my difficult conversation with Barry last week, I told a friend about it. Mistake. Of course, like most people (and even myself to some degree), she disapproves. There’s the part of me that agrees with her and the part of me that has simply stopped caring. Whatever.

About a week ago, I saw an episode of The Dead Files, a show about hauntings and the paranormal. There were some unhappy ghosts on a property being investigated. It turns out that there was this old man who had dementia. His wife took care of him until she died. Then his daughter took care of him until she killed herself. Not a joke. He outlived his caretakers. (This turns out to be far less rare than I ever imagined.) These were some miserable ghosts, creating trouble for the current living residents.

I don’t want to be an unhappy ghost.

I’ve been praying for over a year that one of us would die so this phase of my life would be over. I am so tired emotionally and physically. Am I just waiting for Barry to die? Well…I am just waiting for either one of us to die. I am simply being honest with myself. I would prefer that Barry would go first, but I am willing to do so, given the opportunity. I fall asleep hoping not to wake up. I’ve prayed and prayed and prayed for an end to this, any end. Prayer is not impressive, results-wise. I also don’t want the negative karma that would ensue from me taking action against Barry. I don’t want another round of this.

What I am trying to do now, to some small degree, is to investigate ways of ditching the house. I am willing to take the hit to my credit. I would prefer not to destroy my credit, but I’ll see what’s out there, because the issue is trying to take care of Barry and the house. I am trying to find things to do to prepare myself for being single again someday. I don’t want to continue to wish I was dead.

I feel like I am fighting for authenticity in a culture that rewards subservient silence. Solution: Don’t be stupid enough to tell people how I really feel. Someday, I’ll learn. I have to be willing to walk away from everyone and everything that is not leaving Michigan with me. Learning how to live without people’s approval is hard. I’ve done it before and I can do it again. Only now, I have an education and have more confidence in my ability to support myself. I have less fear of ending up living under a bridge. I am coming around full-circle now to when I was in my early twenties, but with more skills.

Clarity is easy when you are honest with yourself. Confusion is inevitable when you pretend to feel things you don’t or pretend not to feel things you do. When part of me stopped caring, it was like the Red Sea parted. The clarity was simply there. That clarity is far more precious than life itself. Walking around confused and wishing I were dead is very close to zero quality of life. It is a living death, a zombie life. My inability to repress my feelings anymore is like the noon sun evaporating the morning fog. No effort is required. Things just are what they are, only now I can see them better.



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About cdhoagpurple

I live in Michigan. I was Greek Orthodox (and previously Protestant), but now am more Buddhist than anything. I am single now (through the till-death-do-you-part clause of the marriage contract). My husband Barry was a good man and celebrated 30 years in AA. I am overly educated, with an MBA. My life felt terminally in-limbo while caring for a sick husband, but I am free now. I see all things as being in transition. Impermanence is the ultimate fact of life. Nothing remains the same, good or bad.

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