The alternative mood is despair. I am not entirely sure which one my husband prefers but the sadness lasts so much longer, and at least with the anger I am trying to work out ways to remove other people, rather than myself.
That was tongue in cheek, you know. Sort of.
When my father was dying, this blog was very cathartic. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I felt better. In this time of my brother’s dying, I write a lot less. It is so much harder.
My father’s death was awful but I’ve always felt it was just bad luck that made it so. Or probability, if you will. Out of x amount of men at his age, y percent of them would die in those particular circumstances and 100% of them would inevitably die.. He was a low end bell curve marker, basically, and his death just corresponded to a particular point on the Great Bell Curve of Life. Going from statistics to actual people examples, he just happened to be the person that this particular circumstance happened to. Why him? Well, why not?
Which is to say that my pathetic high school mathematics, coupled with the indoctrination of generations of eccentric Maynes, who believed that life wasn’t fair and schooled me to accept it, helped a lot in accepting his death.
But my brother dying? Yeah, that doesn’t feel like random shit. It feels pretty fucking personal, actually: like some nebulous construct does exist and noticed my family and wanted to see how much grief it could make us feel within a certain timespan.
I’ve done/am doing all the right things to keep my tenuous grip on control and sanity but it is really hard because nothing seems to really help. I zone out a lot (my counsellor tells me that is disassociation and worrying). I don’t remember things I’ve written, or read or even done. My husband asked me today if I’d had lunch or breakfast and I honestly couldn’t tell him.
There’s a whole lot of family drama going on, apparently triggered by me. I’m home for all of this month so naturally I want to spend as much time with my brother as possible. I’m not put off by the fact he can’t really talk in a way that is understandable, that he has a lot of obsessions, that being with him these days means a lot of washing and a lot of heavy lifting. I have the time now, right now, and I try to be there as much as I can; as much as I am wanted. My brother is my number one priority right now and I do have the time to be there in whatever capacity, for as long as it takes, because I couldn’t always be there before, due to my job. In short, it’s a re-balance of energies.
But some family members see that I’m devoting however much time to him and they take it as a passive aggressive commentary on their own interactions.It really isn’t and it makes me very sad that they would think so. Surely, at a time like this, we should all just consider what is best for the primary people involved?
It hurts me such a lot to watch things unfold. I can’t control anything and any help I give won’t make much difference in the long run. My lack of control, my expanding out into unknown territory is very hard to deal with. I like to think that I do help with my practical stuff but when my mother/mother in law tells everybody that I am stirring up trouble, well it makes me feel like that what I do is awful, not helpful.
And there we are, another notch lower on the sanity bow/arrow competition.
(Just want to make it clear that my SIL never makes me feel this way.)