Ties that Bind

I hear of so many young adults with the ability to pick up and leave, travel to a foreign country surviving off only what they can find and work briefly for. This impulsive adventuring has great appeal to me. Graduating from college would seem the ideal time to take said adventure: no ties, no career or family yet begun, no house to pay off or maintain; all the freedom possible to explore new places, test my limits and skills of survival, learn my mental capacity, discover what I really want from life. Too often have my thoughts wandered to the excitement such a choice would bring, and I long to satisfy the craving for real freedom I have sought all my youth.

The Beauty of Grief

For days my sister has been staying with me, as a zombie, forcing herself to move through each hour denying the corroding pain yet to be tended. Frustration. Sensitivity to criticism. I felt the stalking presence of a sorrow desperate to be unleashed, and for days I have been waiting.
Before I left my parents I decided to dismiss the burden of being caregiver and counselor to her. I would simply provide an environment of respect and freedom for her to do with as she pleases. If I created an atmosphere where she could feel safe, maybe whatever processing or knowledge she needed would be made clear without my tampering. I hoped the visit would at least supply her with a different perspective on how one can live (without constant yelling, away from the physical reminders that triggered her breakdown).
We came home from a visit with a friend. She mentioned having stomach pains and headed for the next room to hide. Noticing her desire to escape, I jumped at the opportunity to finally talk with her alone. I walked unexpectedly into a hug when I entered the doorway. I asked what was wrong. She described the pains in her stomach. Anxiety. The last time she had an attack around me she utilized distraction as her method of coping. Her attempts to push her feelings aside were vocalized by a distinct monotone moan that only proved her efforts were not amounting to any relief. The moment I heard those same moans begin during this incident, I defaulted to my grief training. I encouraged her to embrace those feelings rather than continue to suppress them.
Little by little, sobs echoed in my ear. Still locked in embrace, she acknowledged the feelings that were rising to the surface by name: frustration, anxiety, sadness. At last! I thought. She’s finally crying. I wasn’t necessarily waiting for her to cry, but rather to be honest with herself about what she was experiencing. In my experience supporting others, this was a major indication of progress (however that might be defined when referring to a process that tends to be cyclical).
I continued to encourage her to just allow the tears to flow, to try not to hold back as she rested on my shoulder. She explained how difficult it has been dealing with the overwhelming fear of “losing it.” A common symptom of panic disorder is a fear of losing control or subsequent attacks. For her, this fear was stifling her need to grieve. When I say grief, I mean a process in which the individual allows whatever they are feeling to be expressed freely for the purpose of releasing energy, sharing, arriving at any conclusions, coping with the loss, and questioning what causes the concerning behavior: the manifestations of the pain or fear that exists at the core of the problem. For her, guilt and betrayal weighed heavily on her conscious.
As we discussed her fears and hesitations about talking to others (particularly counselors or professionals), she unfolded the story that landed her in the hospital. She spoke about the pain of being betrayed by her most trusted support system. She spoke of desperation and shame about how the situation erupted out of her control. She spoke of isolation. Yet she didn’t know she would do anything differently, pitted against herself by her own understanding for those involved. Dying for justice.
All at once she exploded into a rage-induced sob, dropping to the floor by my feet. Droning wails spilled out, self-accepting humility. No holding back. She simply roared.
I caressed her back while she sat bowed against the floor in prayer pose to reassure her that it was okay to exist exactly as she was in that moment. But my heart crumbled for my little sister. Her cries of pain stung what I could imagine being my very soul. The tension aroused by my protective urges melted away to sheer empathy. I felt the betrayal and guilt familiarized by my own experiences and joined in her grief. It was a beautiful exchange. At long last, I had met my little sister.

Preparation (1)

I love my Jadzia. It pains me the thought of her suffering, something she has endured too much of it seems. From being left out in the cold, taking a leap of faith into my life from the cold rain. I ran so hard in hopes I found a lost kitten. I took her in and yet I still felt I had betrayed her. She stayed at my parents house, abused and neglected, trapped and tense. I didnt recognize her. Bringing her here was the right thing to do. She was fat and happy for a couple years. She seemed content at last. And now she is sick. Wasting away. Won't eat, barely drinks. Sleeps her life away more so than usual. She avoids the dog. Its as though she cant wait until I walk in to lay down. She wants to lay in my lap and be comforted so badly. I fear I will regret the many times when other things were prioritized. I want her healthy. It shouldnt be her time yet. Not like this. I was preparing for a few months now and I realize I just refuse to let her go in pain like Shante. Let her go peacefully, without suffering. I believe her lack of interest in food and loss of weight and bad breath are all related. Maybe tooth problems. If I can get her into the vet to check her mouth. I could. I suddenly have a feeling of emergency, if I dont do it asap she might die, even though she has been surviving for weeks now like this... God. Weeks like this. What torture. If she is in pain no wonder she has been sleeping more. Only way to cope now. Pretty soon it will be permanent though. Maybe she can get better and live a few more years. Maybe I can afford the work. I miss the days when she was healthy and sassy. Oh my baby girl. Mommy is here for you. I know youve been trying to tell me something. All these signs are pointing to problems and I am afraid they wont be able to tell me what is wrong and I again waste hundreds.
Please... just please. I dont even know what I am asking for. I dont want her to die yet. If I cant find what is wrong than I submit, but please let there be an easy and obvious problem and solution. My Jadzia.

Sleep as Preparation (2)

I must let go.
What will life be like? How could I possibly carry on with the daily routine? A hole will be dug. Menacing in the corner, reminding me of a beautiful relationship. Something will be missing.
Exhaustion. The both of us. End the suffering. Sleep is her escape, a hint. It is her wish, to sleep eternally. Dont force her to give up. She clings to life for you. Her love has lasted so long already. Return it now. Prove to her you love her enough to let her find peace. She is trapped to her body. A body that is deteriorated and weak. It can no longer sustain her.
She has lived a rough life. The last couple years have been good.
We exchanged a love I never fully appreciated until now. You were always be my side. You have been telling me your time is near for some time. You allowed ample time for me to prepare, to begin grieving, to say goodbye. I will release you. Thank you for all you have given me, for the time you held on even though you were in need of relief. I tried to ease your pain but have merely extended it. I will always love you. I brought you from the pouring rain, took you away from isolation and depression at my parents. We shared a couple wonderful years. You were fat and happy and I enjoyed knowing that. You got to live like a happy house cat for a while. Please forgive my ignorance, my blindness to your pain. You hide it so well. The epitomy of strength. You represent the sort of woman I have always wanted to be: strong, resilient, lovable, dependent and independent, spirited, patient, a quiet wisdom.
I am scared for this. Will you let me know clearly that you are ready to go before we insert the needle? Will you tell me goodbye somehow. Will you indicate you love me? Will you just go peacefully, relieved to be set free? Perhaps thirteen is enough for all you have endured. I remember so much. All the trials to make you safer, to ensure your happiness and now this final one.
I love you my baby girl.
My Jadzia.