Too much

So much happened yesterday, lots of it significant. I don’t really even know where to begin.

I guess I’ll start with my daughter. I had an even more productive conversation with her. I can sum it up in a few highlights:

She assured me yet again that if anything happens to us and either I alone or some combination of me/J/Adam need a place to live, we can move in with Amy and her boyfriend. She repeatedly stated that in the same way my door’s open if she ever needs it, she’s extending the same offer to me as well.

She and I actually talked at great length about the communication style differences between me and my mom. Long story short, I used to communicate more like my mom and I changed gradually after we moved down here. She said the “old me” was like Gandalf the grey and the “new me” is Gandalf the white. She doesn’t hold against me the things “old me” did anymore.

She also apologized to me for putting me in the “bad cop” role, assigning me all the responsibility for the bad things that happened shortly after we moved here. She realized it couldn’t all be my fault and that in solely blaming me, she was taking away both my husband’s agency and her own.

Interestingly, she takes a similar approach as I do about the people who bullied her: she now understands that their lives were probably much more miserable than hers was and she tries to view them with compassion. But like me, she struggles to give herself compassion.

She actually wholeheartedly agreed with my assessment of my mom’s communication style and though I was clear not to try to bias her against my mom, she saw a lot of it for herself. Most importantly, my mom’s good intentions don’t make a close relationship in themselves.

Or, as she put it about the differences between my mom and my mother-in-law: “Grandma Sue is batshit crazy most of the time but she listens to me and tries to understand, even though she usually gets it wrong. Nana {my mom} has the right views of people but she doesn’t spend any time trying to understand me.”

Nailed it. And with a mom like that who doesn’t show much interest in me or her grandkids, it’s really no wonder I’ve been diagnosed with avoidant personality disorder. I try to keep challenging myself on a regular basis to reach outside my comfort zone and be there for people, especially those closest to me.

But then the day got super awful. My husband threw up at least three times yesterday, the first time that’s happened since he’s been on chemo. There’s also the fact that people close to me throwing up makes me feel very panicked—though I suspect that I am going to get much more used to it and likely even see it.

But this is about so much more than just him vomiting or my phobia of it. It’s that I feel like he’s turning another corner, a worse one. He’s been in pain since his surgery in February (and has been coughing since then, too.)

Maybe I’m catastrophizing—I probably am, because I remember some good times we’ve had since then—but it seems like on the whole, he’s gotten worse since February. For the most part, he’s been mostly having bad days. The good days are the exception.

And I just wonder how many good days are left. If he’ll have some almost-miraculous treatment regimen change that will take him back to how he was even a year ago, or if he will continue getting worse in a progressive fashion.

I’m honestly really scared and really sad because it feels like the best days are already mostly behind us.

I would give anything to go back in time, before we knew he was sick, and have a few of those times back, just to relive them. I didn’t think they would end so fast. I didn’t think I would have to spend such a large percentage of my life with only good past-tense memories.

I’m not ready for this. I had tried to convince myself that J would be one of those people who’s still alive 15 years after diagnosis. I see their stories sometimes and am inspired by them.

But the more statistically realistic probability is that we’re already on the downward spiral. I’m not so sure anymore that he’ll even still be around when Dyl graduates college.

None of this is what I want at all. I just want to scream and yell and cry about how fucking unfair this is.

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