Darrin and I spent last weekend with Tabitha. She seems to be well and is working toward learning the skills necessary to cope with life. It was good to be with her again.
We were also able to spend time with some wonderful friends. We've not done that for awhile and it was wonderful to see so many lovely people. Darrin and I were given a key to the home in which we were staying and allowed to come and go as needed. This was hugely convenient because our schedule was changing constantly. I am forever grateful for friends who welcome me into their home and treat me as family. We also got to spend some time with Josh and Lolly. I've not seen them for more than two years, and I think it's been almost four years since Darrin saw them last. All in all, it was a delightful visit.
As my therapy visits have become less frequent, so has my opportunity to interact with loved ones who live far from me. I've missed our monthly lunches and conversations and frequent hugs. Online contact is not the same. However, the long stretches of time between visits also mean that I'm learning to manage my life on my own--and I can say this with a great deal of confidence because in the past 18 months I've lived through some rather hellish moments, and while I may not have done so with a great deal of grace or dignity, I still did it without running to Therapist for help constantly. There were some brief phone calls and a couple of emails, but those were mostly just to update him on what was going on, or to make sure I was looking at things correctly and choosing proper ways to cope--reassurance is a good thing.
So while there are things I am celebrating about not having to make long trips to get my head checked, there are other things I miss a great deal. I'm realizing that so many things I've embraced and enjoyed are ending, and while I applaud change and understand the place it plays in our lives, I'm mourning some of those losses.
We are in the process of trying to procure more funding for Tabitha. The current source will run out this month. It has been recommended by her current psychiatrist and therapist that she remain in treatment for six to eight months. The funding source suggested she stay in treatment for two months, then return home for intensive therapy, including group therapy. The stipulations of her follow-up treatment are impossible for us to meet in our current location. So Darrin and I will once again be doing all we can to provide what Tabitha needs. Our first meeting is tonight. We'll see how things go. I'm desperately hoping we don't have to fight as hard or as long this time, to find funding.
While I am feeling better daily, I'm also feeling increasingly isolated, emotionally. I no longer wish to share feelings or ideas or anything, really, about me. The belief that no one can ever really know me--nor should they wish to--and why would they?--is very strong right now. It makes no sense if one compares what I am living with what I am feeling. The imbalance of those two things are causing me some distress. It seems I have forgotten, once again, how to connect with people and the struggle to find any semblance of emotional intimacy is too difficult.
Therapist reminded me that the state of emotional intimacy must be desired and created by all involved individuals. He suggested that perhaps it has become a struggle because it is one-sided--I desire it, but the other person is comfortable without it--and in such a case, it might be best for me to mourn the loss of closeness and move on. And he's right--and I will--but not today. Grieving is a process which requires more stamina than I now possess, so for a little while I believe I will just pretend that nothing's changed and when I'm stronger, I'll deal with all that I've put off.
The days have been glorious lately. We've had enormous thunderstorms, brilliant sunshine, and muted gray days. The leaves glow with color and my volunteer flower garden is spilling beyond its boundaries. Yesterday I found more volunteers growing in my lawn--which simply means I need to mow more often, I suppose.
Today I will run, attend rehearsals, teach piano lessons, and play with my uncooperative chokecherry jelly which wants to be syrup. I will read, talk with Darrin, spend time with Adam, and remember that life is beautiful.
Because it is--confusing and frustrating and sometimes lonely--but still, beautiful.