I haven't posted anything online in years and there's a sense of desperation and following instructions since talking with Cindy earlier this week. This morning one of the 'little books' I have piled on the coffee table instructed the reader to 'feel your feelings' which felt like useful advice. Flashback to childhood and my inability to control (see 'feel') my feelings led to endless teasing (is that the right word?) about 'there she goes again, she's going to cry'. 

Instead of intensely applying the suggestion, I kept it alongside me most of the morning as I did laundry, attempted to dust, and ended up clearing out drawers in the bedroom. I was astonished at how much needed to be handed off, how much clothing I had squirreled away, and how little I had to put back when I finished. 

The phone rang then as my cleaning efforts picked up momentum, and the message derailed my afternoon: mom had fallen, no apparent damage, and so I left her a message (assuming she was through with lunch). She called back to tell me I was to call her doctor to arrange for her transfer to the 2nd floor. I felt intensely angry and furious: this is not my job, there is not an emergency and why does she believe she needs to be on the 2nd floor. 

An hour later, it turns out that every fall has concluded with a trip to the ED and placement on the 2nd floor (see almost a year ago exactly). So it made memory sense to mom. Fortunately, she didn't appear to be in need of intense assistance (despite her statement "I'm going to need a lot of help"). I explained that she could insist on having Christina or Cindy paged, or she could go to the ED if she felt unsell. I didn't feel great about my attitude or tone, and I knew she heard it. She is old and weak and tired. Does she deserve something better? Or different? I'll let her and Rose decide. 

Instead, I came home and cried. I cried because I couldn't make her more capable and less lonely, because I find it very hard to offer her the empathy and attention she wants as she's never offered it to me. And yes, I am still angry and sad 60 years later - and it was okay to just have those feelings. Not to cope or manage or cover them up. To feel frustrated, deeply sad and 'not responsible'. 

And I cried for the woman I am who once again, feels unceremoniously dumped by TH who simply stopped emailing me after Wednesday. Almost 70 days of steadfast communication and then the door slams shut - perhaps of its own accord. No response to Thursday's emails, and nothing since. I cycle through being angry, hurt, unsurprised, concerned and then back to WTF? Perhaps it's telling that his email on Wednesday was my favorite and filled me with delight. So it goes. Of course, I consider writing, or emailing (and for a moment, a voice message) and then let it go. It's not my fault or the result (as much as I'd like to tell myself) of something I said or didn't say. He's done this before - perhaps less abruptly by text - and if I allow or pursue it, I suppose we could do round 9 or 10. 

And I hoped (insanely) for a different outcome (definition of crazy?). One where we meet up or I see him in Kentucky. Or I move there, or (a new form of craziness) we get married (why on earth?). I miss having someone who shares my interests and delights keep me company. I miss desire and hope and friendship and wonder if I will ever have this. And I release you, TH. And open my heart to other possibilities. 

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