I've been hoping to drink a bit less wine. I poured a third modest glass last night and then said hey, I don't really want that. So I carried it upstairs with me since it might have been downed by my mom if I'd left it in the kitchen. This morning as I got ready to brush my teeth, I thought, hmmm. Maybe before I brush, I should have that.
This is not a plea for help. (I didn't drink it until dinner this evening.) I'm just telling it how it is for me on the island of Pillville. I'm sure many caregivers find their escape in a bottle or think about it anyway. I have narcotics in the house too, and don't think that they don't occasionally whisper my name. They do. So far I have not indulged.
I'm reading an excellent dark and funny memoir about caregiving. It's called "Bettyville." It's odd to sit on the couch after my mom has gone to bed and read what writer George Hodgeman probably wrote after his mom was in bed.
Speaking of writing, I was inspired by my mom's conversations with the dead (mostly her twin sister) to begin writing a few daily lines to the man who loved me.
Tired of death, drink and drugs?
Let's talk about dancing. I'm dancing two nights a week now. Two hours each session. Swing, Foxtrot, Rhumba. Tomorrow I'm going to buy some real dance shoes. I'm dancing with the same guy. He still goes east out of the parking lot. I still go west.
6 comments:
I love you.
And sometimes wine is not just wine, it is solace and so much more. Just as sometimes dance is not just dance, it is prayer.
I am getting a frisson of anticipation here.
I used to be comforted when my mom spoke to her dead siblings. I was glad she was less alone.
And dancing! Yes!
I hear ya sister! Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from really going to town in the thought that I may have to call ambulance and what will the paramedics think. I think you expressed the same fear here a while back. It is a lonely, emotionally exhausting business, walking with someone to the end. I believe only certain people are able to do it and that's why only some are called upon to do it.
-invisigal
Keep taking care of you... whatever that means to you... but I guess I mostly mean the dancing and writing and soothing.
If I still drank wine (or anything at all), I'd be mighty tempted by that goblet alone. I'm looking forward to more about dancing. I've thought about it, too. For some reason it seems like the opposite of caregiving. The gliding, maybe.
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