One thing I’ve learned is that Paul and I do not process the same way. His latest CaringBridge post makes me angry. It is true. It is also true that there is still hope, but the path is narrower and more harrowing.
I honor that he wrote it. He needed to and I am relieved he didn’t hold it in his body.
This is a new thing he is struggling to learn- that the bullshit, very male, Midwestern tendency to shove down the big feelings is not the move. It is a pathway deeply worn in him. The muscular lack of self-empathy he developed to make it possible makes me fucking furious.
If someone talks about one of my loved ones the way he talks to himself, I will fight them bare knuckled and with no training- but I can’t reach inside him and throttle that voice that speaks to him 24/7. He has to decide to unseat it from its throne of lies and then he has to learn how.
This is an exposure too raw for public consumption- too intimate to share. Why would I share the ugly bits of this nightmare to our friends? Because I love you, and something will come for you or your beloveds. Its a plea to those of you who shove your feelings down and isolate yourselves- you will make it so much worse. You are denying the people who love you the chance to cloak you in healing love and peace. That hurts them. And if you believe as I do, that people carry the light of God into the world, you are separating yourself from God. And that is my actual definition of Hell.
I have a role in any shift he makes towards openness. He has been mine longer than he has not, and I have woven tight patterns with his. He was my Gibralter and I celebrated that about him- reliable, unmoving in storms that bowed me, able to show me the way out of my dark spaces. When he showed big emotions, my first reaction was to judge them as immature, overwrought, unattractive. On the occasions they are hurtful, he is be responsible for that. But they are also a symptom of deep underground seas of caustic emotions that he has kept dammed up, of which I have recently become aware. I am horrified and saddened by this discovery. And in reflecting on my initial judgements, I see that I inadvertently reinforced the lie that his feelings were not acceptable outside of himself.
I am practicing letting that first response go by. I am learning to not shy away from his emotions, as long as they are expressed in bridled ways that don’t hurt. I am trying to be an anchor in those moments and hold space for him to feel without me trying to intellectualize it away. I am not a very good anchor yet. I hope I can become steady enough that he can trust me enough to lean on me. I am learning not to cloak myself in his feelings. They are his, not mine, but I can help him carry them without taking them over as my own.
I don’t want to learn these things. Learning new things when you are 48 is hard, and this kind of learning only comes out of struggle and necessity.
His post below is hard for me, but it is good that he wrote it. I hope he will add the truth that he can heal, is worth healing, and can live today. And I hope his people will remind him of those things. They are hard to keep in focus.
There’s no perfect way or right way to go through this wilderness, Cara, and you seem aware of that. Both fierceness and gentleness are called for as you two navigate. The word I have in mind is tenderness.
My mother accompanied my father through his Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis–another mysterious disease. All the appointments and hopes and fears took a toll, for sure. I wish I had asked her how she did that with the grace she appeared to have! She had friends and faith and he had humor and bravery. They tended to grandchildren and sat in the sunshine and held hands and probably shouted a lot after the diagnosis. The timing was different– we were all grown adults and he was 70-73. Anyhow, my point is you’re at the beginning of this, and the middle will look different than this bit where everything is new and scary. Your fears and frustration are legit. I wonder if he can sing out his emotions? Rage songs in German? Weird pieces in made up languages that somehow make sense? Glorious or delicate or wicked music? And you? Go play your violin in a field and cry as often as you like. I have one across the street and you can park in my driveway. –Laura O’B. Smith
You are entitled to be angry. This situation is unimaginably unfair and neither he, you or your family deserve any of it. Fuck cancer. Fuck being “the bigger person.” Sometimes it’s perfectly okay to just be fucking mad.
Cara- Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing as you process this horrific and troubling scary news and you navigate through. I hold you close and your family.
Barbara Thomas
The release can create power from which he can draw. Love you all!
Thank you for sharing so openly and raw. Your definition of hell resonates, and I appreciate you describing it so clearly. I am so sad that you, Paul and your family are journeying through this. What an amazing partner you are to still be open to learning, growing, and hoping. Sending so much love 💖
Cara, You are a treasure. A fierce and loving partner to Paul. Keep