I only walked a mile tonight, none of the other girls came. My husband and the kids came, they played with the Frisbee while I walked the track. It wasn’t as fun as with the girls because I was kind of alone, but not as fun as being alone because I kind of wasn’t.
Walking by myself, listening to my music, is therapeutic for my soul. It’s the kind of alone time I never get at home being a mother and wife. My all time favorite part of the day is when the sun has just gone down and it’s still warm, that’s my recharge time. I truly enjoy walking with the girls, but there is a lot of effort put in to making conversation, remaining socially appropriate in my comments, trying not to commit some huge faux pas. I really fear the rejection of these women, they are a step above the class of lady I am socially comfortable with so I feel a lot of pressure to impress. When I am alone I don’t have to worry about any of that, it’s just me and my steps and the music. I’m in desperate need of new music. Most of what I have, I gathered while I was still depressed so it’s a bit dark, the rest is pre-breakdown music and I just don’t feel like that person anymore. I know now that I’ll never be that person again. I’ll never be so carefree and fluid. I have the memories of the darkness in me, I know the depths of my own soul and it is dark. I’m changed. I see it in my mother’s eyes when she talks to me, she’s hurt by what she saw me go through and she shares my fear of a relapse.
I know why I’m morose tonight. I talked to my oldest child’s father today, he’s dying rapidly of lung/brain cancer. We were good friends before we had my daughter and we have remained friends throughout the years. Probably the longest lasting friendship I have ever had. The chemo is killing him faster than the cancer and the cancer is moving fast. I don’t know if he will make it to the end of the school year. She got to spend her spring break with him and he was able to give a good showing but now he hasn’t eaten anything in five days, he’s living on ensure and pure stubbornness. My heart breaks for him and her, and selfishly for me. As soon as school lets out for the summer we can go to Ohio and see him, help him as much as we can. That’s what I want to do anyway, my first instinct. Then I wonder too, is it best for her? Should she see him bedridden and broken or should she be left with the memory of him healthy and strong? I have no compunction about giving a bedbath or cleaning up BM, I was a nurse pre-breakdown. But is that something she should be there for? How better to show your love for someone than to help them through their final hours? My work in hospice care really showed me how few people show up for that part of someone’s life and I want to be there for him. My husband is on board, he says I should go now. She needs school though, some normalcy in her life. So we wait and see what happens. I’m five hundred or something miles away, I can’t even hold his damn hand while he dies. My oldest friend. My little worries seem so insignificant now. That deep, dark soul I was feeling now seems very shallow.