We were all doing well until the matriarch fell.
But well is a relative term.
My grandmother fell on New Year’s Eve and broke her
shoulder. It’s been a rough six weeks for her, to make the understatement of
the year. Watching her, in pain, has one of the most stressful things I’ve had
to do. I can’t imagine the kind of pain she’s has endured, especially at the
beginning of this journey. I am so grateful, however, that the break was not
worse. Because her hip surgery four years ago was so traumatic, no one is sure
whether she could survive a surgery or the healing process thereafter.
Because I respect her privacy, I will not go into further
detail.
As I sit here with insomnia, I reflect on whether I am well,
or whether I will always remain slightly broken. The truth? I’m perpetually in
a state of “getting there.” Because the prognosis for my illnesses is a
lifetime, I must accept the fact that I will never be completely symptom free.
But there are moments. Those moments when I immerse myself in music, or
writing, or some other form of amusement, and I am free from the burdens of my
illness. Those moments are like winning the mental health jackpot.
I often wonder how much of my absent-mindedness and
recklessness is due to my personality, my medications, or my illnesses. I must
conclude that it’s a combination of the three. Because for me, as of late, life
has been more than slightly wrought with uncertainty. Some of my stressors are
of my own creation. Some are haphazard as existence itself. All are wreaking
havoc on my state of being.
I tell myself that I am happier. But happiness, for me, has
always been fleeting. I suppose I can attribute that to the nature of happiness
or the nature of myself.
There is always the question of the span of time. The time
from the break, through the initial pain, then through the healing process is
as of yet undetermined. And I ask, was I
ever whole? What am I seeking? Must these wounds form an open, aching, necrotic
sore? Time will tell.
But time is a relative term.
http://tangophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/03/on-mending-broken-things.html This is a nice little piece on the Japanese art of Kintsugi, in which mended pottery becomes more beautiful than the original. It also takes this to the philosophical idea of having compassion for an object--or a life--in crisis and the value of being able to give the care necessary to move either forward to a new form.
ReplyDelete