When Doves Cry

Ugh.

Work has been somewhat crazy since this year began. Our project is about 85% completed, and now we are facing all the big chunks, e.g.; going back and fixing mistakes, more work left than money, time crunches...

Also, for some reason, each department at corporate has decided to implement this new policy or other beginning in '09. Human Resources, IT, Operations, Safety...

Can't seem to get any blasted work done, for crying out loud.

As new people are appointed in the upper management level, new positions created, there is new politics, and some rearranging. My boss has been doing the "somebody else is to blame" dance with extra vigor these days. The whole team is extra taut.

Earlier this week we planned to have a breakfast 'meeting'. We were haggling out the details (what time/where) when I remembered that, oops, I had already planned for a Certificate of Occupancy inspection on three homes in the morning. We decided to have a late lunch instead, and then take off for the day.

I need to interject that I am an introvert. Succinctly put, what this means is that, unlike an extroverted person who recieves energy from social interactions, I get my energy from thinking. I need quiet time, and need to recharge after socializing, which DE-energizes me.

My position at work is pretty good for me because although there is a certain amount of socializing between my coworkers and my subcontractors, there is also enough time for me to be alone. So I don't usually get too stressed. But this month at work has been more hectic than usual, with more required interaction.

The point is, by the time lunch came today, I was so not okay for it. It had been somewhat of a chaotic morning, after a chaotic week, and with all our nerves being so tightly strung, I had to dig deep to find the energy to plant that smile on my face and control the barbs that come so readily to mind when I need to be alone and people insist on talking to me.

Trust me. My feelings won't be anywhere near hurt if you just ignore me.

Lunch was hard. Real hard.

But I got through it and when we got back, holed up in my office to do my weekly reports. Alone, all by myself, down the hall.

Unfortunately, Paul & I had our appointment for our councelling after work. I was not up to that either. We go every other week to help us keep the chaos of Sean's life from interfering with our relationship, and to learn how we can help Sean.

Today was sort of an especially tough session and I cried. It's been painful dealing with Sean. I've been tender and stressed for some time. On so many levels that I won't even begin to describe. Tonight I admitted that I am aware that facing losing my son is scaring me. That he may be lost before he 'gets it'. And that that is a serious probability.

Getting into my car after, I noticed that someone had called my phone. Without my glasses on, (well, they were on, but only holding my hair back) I thought the number was Sean's. With a sigh I pressed the call button. When he calls, it's usually because he wants/needs something.

It was actually my brother. Calling me about ice skating. We ended up chatting the whole way home, about books, about his trip to St. John's, about this and that, and then ended up in the same old conversation we always have. It starts like this, "we should write a book. we could do it, and we have so much material."

I tip toe around that by saying that, number one:
I don't think our story is so interesting. It's sort of um, not very?
And number two: How does one BEGIN such a story.

To which he replies: Start with 'sitting in the bathtub bleeding from being beaten, that would be a good place to start'

Oh my. It's taken me a lot of years of work to let all that go. Why oh why would I want to devote even more time to that depressing crap?

And as the conversation progressed, his speech got more slurred, because he is quite a drinker. To the point where I had to ask him to repeat. At one point I mentioned my life philosophy, "Life is not good, but that is no reason not to have a good time".

He was thoroughly shocked. I was thoroughly shocked because he was so shocked.

"Life is not good???!!! What do you mean life is not good?! Life IS good!"

"no, it's not"

"Look around, you have a nice house, a wonderful husband, heat, electricity, food. Life IS good"

"um, I'm not miserable. I appreciate my good fortune. But that is not what my life is about, and anyway, I'm not talking about MY life, per se. Simply put, life is not good. It's hard, painful and full of suffering and struggles. It is what it is. That's all."

"You HAVE to get rid of the "ick!" "You have to stop hating your mother!"

"um, I don't hate my mother. What 'ick' are you talking about?"

"You really don't hate your mother?"

"um, no, I really believe I really don't hate my mother"

"what about your father?"

"who? I don't have a father"

"Well. Life is good!"

"okay"

"I love you, my precious sister"

"I love you too"

"bye"

"bye"

The conversation was a lot longer than that, and covered the relatives and some historic tales. Not a very good conversation, because the other side of the phone held a person who was a bit looped. I get tired of it all. I get tired of his trying to make me own his personal shit. He's the one who can't move on. Every dialogue we have includes his feelings about our father, and I'm not the one who ever brings it up. He's the one who drinks to anesthesize himself from his pain. Not me. He keeps trying to pull me back to where he is.

Today was so not a good day for that.

I was home, and my phone rang again. It was Gabe. He was calling to tell me that my wish to have him come home may come true. His company is struggling. It was a 'heads up' notification. I would love that, and have hoped for it.

Another tug on my heart.

My poor heart.

Peace