Thursday, May 16, 2019

 
    I slept till the alarm went off and stayed in bed a few minutes extra. I walked Elsa. I did my oil rinse, washed my dishes, did 2 kettles of boiling water for my weeds, and made the usual two-day worth of Juice Plus smoothies.  I drank my two cups of water.
    My yoga pants, hemmed board shorts, were still wet.  They hadn't dried overnight.  I just grabbed them with my mat and towel with plans of putting them on when I got there. They were going to get wet in the class anyway, but there they would be warm from the heat in the room.  I left a few minutes after 7. I wanted to go early today for Bikram because JJ said he would adjust my posture while lying on the mat to make sure I'm straight before the class started.
    As I went into the yoga room, I said to JJ, "I'll be ready in a few minutes;" I still had to set up my mat and towel.  I lay down, positioned myself to provide some traction for my back. JJ never said anything to me; I thought he had forgotten.  It made me feel sad, and I found myself thinking of something to say to him after class that wouldn't sound angry or challenging to remind him to adjust me before tomorrow's class hopefully. I  resolved to make the best of the situation myself.  I relaxed the right shoulder, which is pulled too far forward as a rule. Naturally, when I did that, the rest of my body shifted.
    I had a good class.  I was able to participate in almost every asana with the modifications I usually make.  I didn't feel I needed to take it slowly or more conservatively than I often do to let my body adjust to a new reality.   After class,  I said something to JJ to the effect of, "Maybe you can check me tomorrow." He said he had been in twice to check on me, and I was straight. He didn't say anything because he didn't want to bother me.  Hmmm! Little did he know his not saying anything was a bother since it triggered emotions of sadness, anger, and then I struggled to compose something to say that didn't sound petty.
    I drove home immediately after class because I had a telephone session with my therapist.  What was I going to work on? All I felt is this sadness, but that's absolutely appropriate.  We can't change the circumstances.
    When I got home, I did one more kettle of boiling water for weeds and showered. Jean, Mike's first wife,  called. She had sprained her foot and was somewhat hindered.  She was working on clearing her house, inspired by Mike's loss and realizing the implications for John, her husband, or Damon, her son if she doesn't make an effort to clear out some of the stuff she has accumulated over the last 30 plus years.  Jean and John have not had the advantage Mike and I had.  We moved two times in that period, once to Ohio and the second to Hawaii. The second move was really instrumental in getting me to clear our possessions.  I knew we wouldn't have the storage space in our Hawaii house that we had in the Princeton or Ohio houses.  No basement.
    I also called my friend Carol Zimmerman this morning. She just had back surgery yesterday. Scary stuff.  She was doing well. She had been up yesterday already to go to the bathroom. It's remarkable how the medical profession gets us up and moving as quickly as possible.  When I was a kid, staying in the hospital in bed for 10 days was the standard for just about all procedures. My mother was in for 10 days after giving birth to me, and it was a standard delivery. It is so much better for us now.  
    In the session with Shelly, I started with just sitting with and observing my sadness.  I released anything negative about the sorrow and kept anything positive or anything I still needed.  An image of Mike being sad because he abandoned me, came to mind. In my image, he felt guilty that he left me on my own and betrayed his promise that we would both die at the same moment in our late 90s.  He was weeping, overcome with sorrow and guilt.  In the beginning, I just sat still and held the space for his sadness while assuring him that I would be okay.  I had seen Mike cry like this when he was alive when he thought he had betrayed me somehow.  He had an underlying commitment to me and my well-being that overrode any of his neurotic tendency to arrogance.  I had complete trust in that commitment.
    He started clinging to me to forgive him and comfort him.  I found myself backing away, shaking my arms to get him off. Then I became angry that he had abandoned me. As I stayed calm with his sorrow at first, he now stayed calm with my anger.  I could feel he sometimes wanted to approach me to comfort me, but backed off and just sat calmly with my anger.  The scene reminded me of something that Mike often said about our relationship: he said it worked because there was always one adult present- and it wasn't the same one. When confronted with his sadness, I was the adult. And then as I got in touch with my anger, he became the adult.  I saw myself being pretty pissy.  He left me; he betrayed me; he broke his promise to me, etc.  While he wanted to sit still with my anger, his penchant for worrying about me overcame him.
    My father, who died when I was 15, came on the scene.  He challenged Mike's habit of worrying about me.  He told him it doesn't help. Moreover, it undermines me.  My dad told him it communicates a belief that I'm not strong enough to manage life on my own.
    Mike found this confusing. He associates worry with love.  My father kept telling him that he should pray for me instead. Mike found this even more confusing. Seriously confusing.    While worry can be a sign of love, it can also be more about a person's self-image: 'if I worry, I'm a loving person. I can tell how much I'm a loving person by how much I worry.' Really? Now, who is the primary concern here, the object of the worry or the self-image of the worrier?   This was really difficult for him. He felt like he was losing his substance, becoming ghost-like. My dad and I held the space for him. Two adults, no waiting.  The session ended with Mike going through this ego-shattering experience.  God, I love him. That he would do this for me, go through this sacrifice of self to help me.  I know he would have done it if he was alive because he had done it. He always wished me the absolute very best.
    The plastic pantry shelving covers I had washed yesterday were finally dry. Once they were in, I set up the pantry again. The shelves still look full even though I had gotten rid of at least half of what was on them, giving several bags of unopened, unexpired products to the church charity and having Judy walk out with two shopping bags full.  There must still be something like 8 varieties of rice.  However, there are only two varieties of pasta left that haven't already gone bad.
    I cleaned the counters thoroughly and finally cleaned the stovetop, which hadn't been done since it was used on Easter Sunday.  Mike and I used to say, "Where's a house guest when you really need one?" Houseguests are motivation to do a proper cleaning.  I sprayed ammonia on the stovetop and raced Elsa and me out of the house for our before dinner walk so we wouldn't be overcome by the fumes.
    I spoke to Judy while I walked.  She was feeling lousy. Only three or four more treatments to go.  But then there is the recovery from the procedures.  She remembers when she was off the treatments because of her cold, and she still felt lousy.  This too will end.
    I walked Elsa and came home to do more work on the blog. I had dinner, watched TV and cataloged some books.   I walked Elsa again, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.