Choices, More Choices

The answer to that is simple, the thing I fear the most is living.  Or maybe it’s not living, depends on how you use it in a sentence.  When I’m out among the living, I feel like I’m not living?  Not quite the notion I’m trying to capture, but the phrase sounds about right.  There are ties when I believe it best if I did just pick up my stuff and find a place to get the medical attention I require without needing to have my family involved.  There’s some major guilt that resides behind having brought Kathy and her family along for this journey.

Those late nights when she is trying to hide her voice while talking to someone on the phone that she fears walking up one day only to find that I haven’t.  It’s a hard mindset to have when you find yourself coming to terms with that being as much a possibility as the sun rising that morning.  I don’t know who she is talking with, but I have a feeling that it is most likely my mother.

I’ve lived through the worst that life could offer, the daughter thing, the ex becoming the ex shortly after, the return of the cancer.  Not only have I dealt with those life altering facts, but somehow gotten to a point where they don’t cripple my actions.  Plenty of people go through those issues and come out damaged but living.  I’m still in that stage of my life where “walking wounded” is a better description.

I love the sunrise, but I fear the sunset.  The explanation is easy, I got through another day, but will I get through another?  Learning to make healthy decisions about the things that matter has drastically been altered by those previously mentioned ordeals.  Searching for answers while not wanting to involve any other person, fearing that it will hurt them more than it already has.  A blinding rage at myself for making choices that hurt me while protecting others, I’m still learning to figure out how to retrain my brain.

I did my wounded dog crawling into the woods routine.  Leaving my home, the support of my family, even work things just so I could hold my head up in some fashion and say “I left so the rest of you didn’t get dragged down.”  It wasn’t a healthy decision, it was made from fear of hurting.  I’m embarrassed to say that there are times when I still utter two names that just aren’t going to be there to hold my hand.  One I shouldn’t be, a perfect little girl.  The other, well she still has a power in my brain/heart I haven’t worked past.

Making choices with my “ego”, worried about how others are going to judge me has not been an issue.  The echoes of blame rest firmly in my ears, those chains wake me up shaking from the reminder of failures.  Even those I couldn’t control, events that others should have known better then to blame me for.

I used to be frightened of dying, but at times I wonder if that really is the end.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Must Not Fail.”

5 thoughts on “Choices, More Choices

  1. Writing about it got me through my husband’s illness and death. It sounds to me as though it is vital in your life right now as well. Your wife needs an outlet and a way to cope as well, and in her case it is perhaps talking. You did not choose the cancer and in no way can you be held responsible for it, so you have no reason to feel guilty–at least for that. As my husband was dying, he would get so angry if I expressed any kind of pain at all…even when I ran into a chair and dislocated my kneecap. Don’t expect the same of your wife. She needs to talk to someone and it is a realistic fear she is expressing. Not your fault. She feels it because she loves you and that is a positive thing. Let her acknowledge her pain without feeling guilty for it. These words you speak are so familiar to me that I had to speak. If I am out of line, I’m so sorry, but I think most of us publish these blogs because we do want to communicate with those who read them–and communication back means someone is listening.


    • I want to clear up something, my ex left me a year ago. She didn’t want to deal with any of it. She ran away rather than be there, even if a silent partner. Kathy is a friend who offered a place to crash so I could get the help I needed. She’s a great help, but a little old for me! 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • I’m glad you have such a wonderful friend. Thanks for the clarification. It’s many times hard to get ll the facts right when we come in on the middle of people’s lives and don’t know the backstories.


  2. When you said, “I did my wounded dog crawling into the woods routine. Leaving my home, the support of my family, even work things just so I could hold my head up in some fashion and say ‘I left so the rest of you didn’t get dragged down,’” I totally understood. My son, who recently died from pancreatic cancer, didn’t really want to see his family. I know that he was trying to spare us the pain, but all of us traveled to be with him. It was heartbreaking for us to see him ravaged by cancer, but it was something we had to do.


    • I very sorry your family understands. Maybe this bit of my perspective may help. Knowing that life continues is a powerful medicine for some. There are times it is very lonely, out of sight isn’t out of mind. They are always with me, just not always in the room.

      Liked by 1 person

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