Choices, Aging, and Coping
I think if I had the chance to do so I would very much go back in time to change some of the choices I have made. I know it is not very Buddhist of me to look backwards, yet I can't help but to do so right now. You see, I am experiencing a great deal of upheaval and change in my life right now, most of which is out of my control. I am not able to make things better for my mom, who is very ill. I am not able to extricate myself from a less-than-deal relationship due to the dependency I have on him.
So, of course that leads me to thinking about all the things I could change or could have changed. Of course, life looking backwards is always through a 20/20 lens so therein lies the crux, the paradox.
I moved back home to Knoxville in order to be closer to mom. Even before I moved back here in 2007 I could see that her health was beginning to decline. I knew that rough waters were ahead. But not much happened aside from her major heart surgery and she recovered well from that. I mistakenly believed that "fixed" her so I lulled myself into a false sense of security, believing nothing else bad would happen to her.
However, so much has happened to her. On one hand I am thankful to have moved back in time to be there for it all: the 5 heart bypasses, the artificial heart valve replacement, the gall bladder surgery...the stroke, multiple episodes of serious pneumonia, her falls, and now her failing lungs due to COPD and her congestive heart failure. On the other hand, the fairy tale vision I had in my head...the one where we cook dinner together often, go out to eat often, go shopping, go to movies together, have slumber parties...that vision has never came to be.
I got caught up in my life and my repeated attempts to forge romantic love from a handful of guys totally wrong for me. I contracted HIV, adding it's own unique sorts of challenges and closed doors. My own health, physically and emotionally, overshadowed the vision in my head of growing old with mom in a halcyon haze of golden light. The light dimmed, the vision has faded and I am left wondering what life will be like next.
I have selfish thoughts. I have tiny little dreams in my head of how my life could be if only this or if only that...never having the courage or total selfishness needed to pursue such things. But then I wonder...do those who go off to live their own lives have courage or are they selfish? I do not know. I am not sure I can separate the two concepts, as if they are intertwined like DNA. Choices...all one can say is that people chose things for a reason, good or bad. One certainly can not question the motives of someone pursuing their own choices, but the door is wide open for examining one's own choices.
In the back of my head lives a vague idea that I would have liked to live in NYC for a time, to experience true urban life in the most urban of all cities. I have these mental pictures, of memories that never were - sitting in a diner in the middle of the night, having just come from seeing Wicked on Broadway, or having come from an amazing club. I see myself, in this past life that never existed, in a tiny yet cozy apartment filled with cherished things, surrounded by the sounds of the city. In this life I was energized by the city, given life by absorbing the life surrounding me.
In another life I would have settled in Seattle or Portland, surrounded by others who are all different in their unique way. I would be at the center of modern-day counterculture, embraced by my own tribe of people who were also as different as I. I would have enjoyed something so simple as the constantly rainy weather. For whatever reason I have an aversion to full sunlight so the cloudy and rainy weather would have been perfect for me. And maybe I would have fell in love with a sparkly vampire or a brooding werewolf or even Christian Grey himself!
No matter which life I would have chosen, I would have not had to deal with the small-minded Southerness that permeates things here in Tennessee, even in 2014. Not a single day goes by that I do not see, hear, or very clearly sense the disdain and anger of Southern people. Not all Southerners by any means! But enough of them make their opinions and feelings known to me. It often feels as though I am merely tolerated by many people; rarely am I ever embraced for the unique and different person that I am.
The Civil War may have ended on paper a very long time ago, but the backwardness and fear of those who are different are alive and well still.
I guess I am thinking more about what could have been so much because the reality in front of me is so vastly different. The here and now takes up my full attention so much that all I can do is dream of things. Familial duty and responsibility trumps all else, at least that is my opinion. I could no more shirk my duties to my Mom than I could suddenly decide to fly through the air. What I did not expect though is the emotional toll I feel. Oh, regret and sadness are not my only emotions...I feel as though all of my emotions have been shoved in a blender and that blender is stuck on full speed. I feel helpless as to how to make my Mom better or how to even make her feel better. Caretaking is not easy for the introverted or the socially awkward or the sensitive, and I am all three of those.
Sorry to whine about it. Sometimes these feelings just get so bottled up in my and I do not know what to do with them. Writing helps a bit.
So, of course that leads me to thinking about all the things I could change or could have changed. Of course, life looking backwards is always through a 20/20 lens so therein lies the crux, the paradox.
I moved back home to Knoxville in order to be closer to mom. Even before I moved back here in 2007 I could see that her health was beginning to decline. I knew that rough waters were ahead. But not much happened aside from her major heart surgery and she recovered well from that. I mistakenly believed that "fixed" her so I lulled myself into a false sense of security, believing nothing else bad would happen to her.
However, so much has happened to her. On one hand I am thankful to have moved back in time to be there for it all: the 5 heart bypasses, the artificial heart valve replacement, the gall bladder surgery...the stroke, multiple episodes of serious pneumonia, her falls, and now her failing lungs due to COPD and her congestive heart failure. On the other hand, the fairy tale vision I had in my head...the one where we cook dinner together often, go out to eat often, go shopping, go to movies together, have slumber parties...that vision has never came to be.
I got caught up in my life and my repeated attempts to forge romantic love from a handful of guys totally wrong for me. I contracted HIV, adding it's own unique sorts of challenges and closed doors. My own health, physically and emotionally, overshadowed the vision in my head of growing old with mom in a halcyon haze of golden light. The light dimmed, the vision has faded and I am left wondering what life will be like next.
I have selfish thoughts. I have tiny little dreams in my head of how my life could be if only this or if only that...never having the courage or total selfishness needed to pursue such things. But then I wonder...do those who go off to live their own lives have courage or are they selfish? I do not know. I am not sure I can separate the two concepts, as if they are intertwined like DNA. Choices...all one can say is that people chose things for a reason, good or bad. One certainly can not question the motives of someone pursuing their own choices, but the door is wide open for examining one's own choices.
In the back of my head lives a vague idea that I would have liked to live in NYC for a time, to experience true urban life in the most urban of all cities. I have these mental pictures, of memories that never were - sitting in a diner in the middle of the night, having just come from seeing Wicked on Broadway, or having come from an amazing club. I see myself, in this past life that never existed, in a tiny yet cozy apartment filled with cherished things, surrounded by the sounds of the city. In this life I was energized by the city, given life by absorbing the life surrounding me.
In another life I would have settled in Seattle or Portland, surrounded by others who are all different in their unique way. I would be at the center of modern-day counterculture, embraced by my own tribe of people who were also as different as I. I would have enjoyed something so simple as the constantly rainy weather. For whatever reason I have an aversion to full sunlight so the cloudy and rainy weather would have been perfect for me. And maybe I would have fell in love with a sparkly vampire or a brooding werewolf or even Christian Grey himself!
No matter which life I would have chosen, I would have not had to deal with the small-minded Southerness that permeates things here in Tennessee, even in 2014. Not a single day goes by that I do not see, hear, or very clearly sense the disdain and anger of Southern people. Not all Southerners by any means! But enough of them make their opinions and feelings known to me. It often feels as though I am merely tolerated by many people; rarely am I ever embraced for the unique and different person that I am.
The Civil War may have ended on paper a very long time ago, but the backwardness and fear of those who are different are alive and well still.
I guess I am thinking more about what could have been so much because the reality in front of me is so vastly different. The here and now takes up my full attention so much that all I can do is dream of things. Familial duty and responsibility trumps all else, at least that is my opinion. I could no more shirk my duties to my Mom than I could suddenly decide to fly through the air. What I did not expect though is the emotional toll I feel. Oh, regret and sadness are not my only emotions...I feel as though all of my emotions have been shoved in a blender and that blender is stuck on full speed. I feel helpless as to how to make my Mom better or how to even make her feel better. Caretaking is not easy for the introverted or the socially awkward or the sensitive, and I am all three of those.
Sorry to whine about it. Sometimes these feelings just get so bottled up in my and I do not know what to do with them. Writing helps a bit.
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