Pain

I  have been in pain for some time.  Today, I had to complete a pain survey.  After the survey, the doc interviewed me.  I burst open explaining how I felt - nearly in tears.

"How's your pain level now?" he asked.

"Much easier," I responded.

Amazing what talk therapy will do. 

This past weekend I was visiting one of my children in another state.  Almost immediately my former spouse and his family arrived.  More immediately, I was once again relegated to the edge of the sofa I bought them.  For several hours, not one word was said to involve me in the conversation.  Now mind you, I would jump in if there was something I could respond to. I don't need non-stop conversation.  She did.   But this isn't about her painbody.

My children are now fully grown.  I don't talk babies anymore.  And clearly, I was not wanted in the conversation.  I wondered about their sensitivity level.  What it means to be a good host.  What I meant to them. By seven o'clock that night I was on my way back to my expensive hotel room.

The following day I took a taxi to visit said child in his home again.  The visit began nice enough until the ex and his entourage arrived.  Then the ex's new wife usurped every ounce of air in their tiny townhouse. At that point, I asked my child to drive me to the hotel.  I was done. I left the following mid morning to my home in the mountains.  I spent a lot of time and money to visit them and my grandchildren.  It was my grandchildren's birthday weekend.

I am back home now.  Back in a space where I feel safe.  Safer.  My walls are nice to me.  Nicer than...

In thinking about this past weekend - this smacks of more abandonment. Mine. My child's even. He is his dad's son and limited emotionally.  I see this the older he gets.  Clearly, I have little purpose in his hi-brow and upscale lifestyle.

I have cried my eyes out too many times over this.  I think about where I go during these times.  I think about the anger. The fear so deep in my being. I think about abandonment and worry I will abandon him before he abandons me any further. I ask so little of my children.  With this child, courtesy would be nice.  Thoughtfulness, too.

My thoughts travel back sixty years. That four year old child sitting in the grass by her Baltimore home.  She cried because her parents were at a funeral.  She cried because she thought it was theirs.  But the tears weren't just for that episode.  It was all the years they couldn't be emotionally available - that she was abandoned by her father, brother and eventually her mother.

Someone close to her, who didn't really know her all that well said it all.

"Armour.  You have armour on."

I guess I do.  Why wouldn't I? 

How do you know this?  Because you wear it, too.

May we all find our way home.  To ourselves. May we all let others be where they are.