Trying to be Careful
I closed on the house! The house is officially sold.
The new owners are not hurrying me out, but, wow, it really feels weird living in someone else’s house. Truly strange. I now need to find another place to live.
The difference between this life transition and all the previous ones is my level of awareness. I have no youthful enthusiasm left. There is no idealism.
I am moving forward very carefully. I am trying to do things in an orderly fashion. I am trying to listen to my intuition.
I never thought I would be in the position of moving the two of us. When Barry got stage 4 cancer in 2008, he had only a 20% chance of living five years. I got my MBA at the end of 2012. I spent 2013 and 2014 sitting, watching TV with him, and waiting for him to die. Once he died, I would move south. Part of the problem is that he got used to me just sitting and watching TV with him. He liked it, while my soul died. Watching TV and waiting for someone to die is a soul-crushing way to live.
I woke up in 2015 to the realization that I was responsible for a disabled husband and a house, neither one of which I knew how to take care of. And taking care of both was beyond my capabilities. And then there were the crises: automotive problems, a BB through the living room window, an iffy mammogram, Barry’s possible prostate cancer (all health problems are possible because he will not get tested for anything, let alone treated), the bullet through the living room window, the abandonment by people when I needed them most, and on it went. I refuse to feel guilty about waiting for Barry to die back then because I thought it was the most compassionate response I could give, given my information at that time. Who wouldn’t want to die in the comfort of their own home? The point is that I put my life (health, career, etc.) on hold while waiting for him to die. And then he didn’t. Therefore, I am moving us elsewhere. Not my plan.
Now 2016 is two-thirds over. I am living in someone else’s house. And I want to make the next transition as sane as possible. I don’t know what I am doing.
And I am absolutely exhausted. I was sitting in the mall yesterday, trying to meditate, and was asked by a guard if I was okay. I had fallen asleep. Did he think I was passed out? Or worse? Sometimes there is not caffeine in the world to keep me awake. I have decided to try to prepare, as far as is possible, for when Barry dies so I can spend the following month sleeping. Right now I am coping, and I am good at coping. But I know that I am never going to truly relax until he dies and I am out of the perpetual caretaker role. And, if I am not careful, I will get really sick as soon as the stress lets up. That is my pattern: when the stress is on, I am okay and when it relents, I collapse. When going to school, I would get really bad colds about ten minutes after taking my final exams. Selling the house was just a small taste of some of the stress letting up. I know what comes next if I don’t prepare.
The other part of my problem is that I have no goals or dreams anymore. They have died in the past few years. I went to school with goals and ideas. That part of me died last year. Now I have an advanced degree (and the student loan debt to go along with it) to pursue goals that are dead. I just don’t care anymore. I don’t know what, if anything, I can do about that.
So the last thing I want to do is to conjure up a whole new batch of goals and dreams to motivate myself in a new direction.
I don’t know what I am doing and part of me is incapable of caring. I really need to tread carefully here.