Stage Two: Exhaustion

I am exhausted. I find myself wishing that this week were over, that I could just kick back for a day or two and not have to go anywhere or see anyone. I want to go into my cave and hibernate a bit. Unfortunately, I cannot. This afternoon, I have a rendezvous scheduled with Jen Spink, a friend I have been trying to get together with for some time. She and Caroline are meeting to make jewelry, and Jen invited me to join them. I don't care all that much about making jewelry (although it could be fun). Mostly it's just that ... well, my relationships are my biggest priority. It's a push to find the energy to go today, but if not today ... when? So I'll go. And I'll probably even enjoy myself. (And I'm sure Brendan will enjoy playing with their young sons, too.)

I get to drop Mark at work at the church on the way to Caroline's. Afterwards, I will pick up Alex from school and head for Newberg, to take Mark to his weekly appointment at the Pain Center. Then this evening Joellen and my brother Mark ("our Mark" and I like to call him when talking to Becca, to keep him distinct from "my Mark," the one I married) are bringing a pizza and their Playstation 2 and coming to hang out with us for a bit. That I am looking forward to. Until recently, I didn't really know my brother well. If you promise not to tell, I'll let you in on a secret. Sh. Come close... I thought he was a royal pain in the ... um, well, you know ... as a child. But lately I'm realizing that he's quite a guy. So funny and caring and creative. And Joellen ... well, she's just a sweetheart. So, yes, I am looking forward to tonight.

Tomorrow ... what's tomorrow? I know there's something. Oh, yes, dinner at Mom and Dad's, although the day itself should be (fingers crossed, knock on wood) fairly quiet.

Then Thursday morning I volunteer in Alex's classroom to help with math, and Thursday evening my writer's group meets at Coffee Cottage in Newberg. Then I think ... I think! ... I'll be able to let down. I'll have two whole, wonderful days to decompress. In between runs to schools and hospitals, Mark's work and the store, and wherever else anyone needs chauffeured.

Oh, and I didn't mention yet ... my bipolar neighbor, Christina? Well, apparently she has developed dementia. I'm sure I will have a few "moments" with her this week, too. I cannot imagine living in her mind. She is so afraid and confused. I feel for her. I really do. And I feel especially for her college aged daughter who is mothering her terribly ill mother, trying to continue her own education while working on getting state assistance so they can put her in a group home. In the meantime, they simply can't afford it so Christina lives alone -- two doors away from me. And guess where she comes/calls when she gets confused, afraid, lonely? You got it! Me! My therapist says that she has a family, that she is not really my responsibility, and so I try not to let her run my life, but I do feel guilty when, for example, I tell the family to let the machine pick up the phone after she has called six times to ask if we are sure Golden Girls is on channel 32 at 8:00, or when I don't let her in the house and cut the conversation short when she brings me her garbage pick up schedule (which she had just called me about). I was trying to get ready for Grandpa's funeral. I didn't have time to be worrying about when her garbage was going to be picked up. But I'm disturbed now by the memory of the blood on that piece of paper. It was from a blister on her hand, from where she spilled coffee on herself two days ago. (She showed up at my door for that, too.) Should blisters bleed like that? I don't think so. And how did she burn herself that badly on coffee anyhow? I know I'm not responsible for her, but ... can I just pull the curtains and not answer the door or the phone? I may get to that place, soon. I mean, seriously ... In the meantime, I need to remember to have a chat with Kaitlyn today. I don't know what "an episode" looks like, but her brother has warned me that I should feel free to call him if one occurs. (But then, he didn't leave me his number.) I think Christina is harmless, but she is wound so tight that I can't be sure. I need to remind Kaitlyn not to open the door to her when I'm gone and not to hesitate to call the police if need be, for Christina's safety or for her own.

I am supposed to go to a "Team Meeting" at church for all of the volunteers on Saturday morning -- early Saturday morning. I don't think I'll be there. People are my priority. I could care less about Rah-rah-rah inspirational meetings and tidbits of info that can just as easily be sent to me in a memo. I know it's supposed to be a required meeting, but what are they going to do? Fire me? Yes, yes. I know this is a terrible attitude to have, but I do have my limits. This meeting is just a little beyond the scope of what I can think I can reasonably be expected to do this week.

Oh, you want to hear about the funeral? Um, well ... it was good, but I can't really tell you about it right now, not more than the surface things. I loved the fact that instead of a flower arrangement at the graveside, there were potted plants on his casket. Kathy and Karen and Grace had also set out a wooden tool box with some of his old tools, and the funeral home provided an American flag for his time in the military. That seemed so him, so much more than an expensive arrangement of cut flowers would have been. (I wanted to get a picture to put here on my blog, but I was afraid that would be too tacky, that some might be offended if I took pictures of the casket. I'm willing to offend if I have good reason, but getting a picture of something that struck me is not a good enough reason, in my book.)

So ... what else? The lunch was fabulous. I sat with my brothers and sisters and had a great chat and remembered (not like I'd really forgotten!) how fortunate I am to have them all. Then we had the service: Scripture reading and music, pictures and memories. I'm afraid I may have stuck out like a sore thumb because everyone in my family had the decency to cry. I couldn't have cried if my life depended on it. I still haven't -- not since Thursday evening. When we came out of the service, my sisters all had signs of stress. Katie's MS was causing her to limp. Someone was talking about perspiring, etc. Me? Nothing. Just a numbness and a huge urge to get out of there. I was so glad to get home. So glad. I ripped off my binding undergarments and found the most comfortable clothing I could find. Then I sat down, tuned out the world (as much as I could), and read a short story.

You'd think I'd relax, now that it's over, but I don't really operate that way. I've been in too many stressful situations, and I have a predictable routine that I go through. Yesterday, I was hypervigilant. Not afraid. Years ago, this state would have turned to crushing fear, but I've learned to deal with it so that now it just manifests itself liking a radio, picking up more than one station at a time. I watch people's faces, listen, stay poised and ready for ... whatever. Last night was the tossing and turning, which may last another night or two. This morning ... exhaustion. Later (tomorrow? this weekend?) I will feel overwhelming sadness and a sense that life is terribly short and that my efforts to make it count are pathetically feeble. And THEN I will write about it. I don't mean that I will write over the surface of it, like I'm doing here. I will dig into it and write through it, and then I will heal. But until then, do not ask me to cry or to tell you what I'm feeling because, quite frankly, I feel nothing. Nothing except exhaustion.