It has been nearly two weeks since my mother's beast drove her away again. After nightly phone calls to alert us to her progress, Vermont, New York, Ohio, 2 nights in Wisconsin and at last to her destination of Minnesota, there has been, unsurprisingly little to no contact since. Until tonight there were no phone calls, no emails, just an odd package with nicely wrapped gifts from a "Dollar" store she found in Madison, WI, which is even more strange given that birthday and holiday gifts are rarely wrapped properly, if at all.
I could make a quip here about caring enough to send the very best, but it would be gratuitous at best.
And how has this played out in my daily life?
Well, after the initial shock and sadness, followed by some relief, I found myself extraordinarily ill. And, as my therapist will attest to, I became sickest in the part of my body where I keep and feel all of my stress, tension, and worst memories. I became sick in my chest.
I also developed a raging fever and a tightness in my chest that continues to exist as only a cough, thankfully, over a week later. It is an irony not lost on me that this is an area of my body that I have obviously struggled with. Between unwanted tissue growth, two surgeries, nerve damage, scars, and sweater-like hair that now grows there, my chest has been a problem for me since I was a youth.
I must disclose of course that since I work in an elementary school setting I am exposed to more germs than Mother Theresa was exposed to lepers, and everyone in our family of 4 has now had some version of this virus. I further feigned wellness for three days in an attempt to hide from the reality of being sick and of the psychological component of my dis-ease.
I have also been rehearsing, practicing, and performing in a local theater production (solo trumpet) and it has been challenging at best and recently demoralizing at its worst. An aside here, as I need to mention that I am dealing with an individual who has expressed opinions about my performances that are less than complimentary and I believe that instead of being given a chance to "improve," my solos will simply be cut. I could spend several paragraphs about the ridiculousness of this situation, however, the politics of local theater make Congress look like a love fest. I will therefore do as I'm told, collect my paycheck at the end, and remind myself the next time an "opportunity" like this comes along, to politely decline and save myself.
At any rate, I was run down, vulnerable, exhausted, and feeling anxious. So, I got sick.
Eventually and gradually I have gotten better, thanks in large part to rest, limited food intake, pain relievers, various and sundry remedies, and an openness to the fact that part of the illness was due to the psychological stresses of recent weeks/months/years/decades.
Instead of letting my true grief out, I held it tighter and tighter until I was forced to expel it with fevers, aches, coughs, mucus, and anxious pain throughout my body. I was trying so hard to hang onto a make believe world that had never been, that the real one caught up to me with a vengeance. My pain was literally oozing its way out of me and it was horrible. I was uncomfortable, unable to breathe, and had lost control of my body. Ah yes, that self-delusion of being in control of anything.
I know that this is not a pretty picture, trust me, I looked in the mirror and saw the ugliness in my own reflection. But the truth of the matter is that it couldn't be a pretty picture. Even though I had let my own beast have a rest I had kept guard, kept watch, and been hypervigilant waiting for my mother's beast to return. I refused to answer the phone when she made her nightly calls. And when I finally did talk to her, it felt like every time before. She "apologized" for calling so late, but she and her friend had gone out to eat, and whatever else was important to her, and the call had absolutely nothing to do with me.
I longed to hear her say she missed me, or my wife, or our kids, but no, her beast misses no one.
And right now, her beast is running the show.
For so many years I longed for freedom. I longed for her to vanish from my life. I longed to be someone who would not care that his mother had run off again. I longed to be excited. And that longing was in actuality one gigantic lie.
As my physical wellness unraveled, my mental knots and twists on the situation began to loosen as well.
I began to see that for better or for worse I missed my mom. I still didn't miss the real person, and honestly I still don't, but the fantasy mom, that person who never was, well, I missed her.
I was sick and longing for comfort. I had performances and I longed to hear that I had done a great job. I was working my hardest to do so much, and I longed for a mom to tell me that no matter how hard it seemed, I could and would get through it. I was longing for a comforting presence, and unable to see or feel the true ones around me. My wife, my children, my friends, my G-d.
And that is the heart of my longing. This unrealistic desire for some sort of fulfillment that comes from somewhere outside of myself, that drives me to seek attention, and praise, and recognition. A gnawing ache in my chest that I have tried to fill with anything and everything tangible under the sun with absolutely no success. And I mistakenly believe that I am supposed to be able to do this. Over and over again I set myself up, that this time, this magic bullet, will fulfill this longing.
Longing, desire, want, dream.It is a mantra that I know so well.
And until I ask for what I truly need and want, then the emptiness remains, and my ability to give back is empty too. My mantra is not life giving, it is longing that cannot find peace.
So, tonight, as I put myself to bed, take my pills, brush my teeth, and say my prayers, I will ask for forgiveness again and again and again. I will ask G-d to fill me with G-d's strength, love, courage, and most importantly, comfort. I could use some comfort. I am longing for it.
Thank you for staying on the journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
-Ari
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