Purpose

 Due to some hypnotic work of recent times, I have felt calm, in spite of the turbulence, both close and far. There's no doubt that the trances worked for me and I know this is very special work because I hear hypnotists on the Internet in various places like Spotify and it does nothing.

Even so, I do have my moments when my world can feel like it is blowing up. My husband will return home from seeing his oncologist. He speaks to me matter of factly, and I sit there as his active listener. But last evening there came a moment when my body reacted in a way that I had to notice. I suppose you would call it a panic attack.

"Can I ask you to pause for a moment? My body is overloaded."

In fact, it didn't last long, and I was soon breathing freely again. I think by acknowledging the bodily reaction and giving it some attention, things settled down.

I am not sure whether to call it 'anticipatory grief', or catastrophic thinking or something else, but maybe it's just a natural thing to be a bit panicked about difficult news.

I am proud of the way my husband handles his cancer. If one avenue closes, he simply looks for a new route, all the while staying positive and believing that he can make a difference to the outcome. This makes it much easier for me than for many other spouses.

He is also remarkable in the way that he continues to enjoy all the little joys of life. I had moved the Fiddle Fig to the front of the house where it gets more light. He noticed the abundantly healthy new growth this morning and was genuinely excited about seeing the progress of the plant. He is an infectiously positive person. He has fallen too many times to count, got up and dusted himself off just as many times.

My life, our lives, may well have changed forever. My husband said he would like to return to our hotel in Bali. This is an ideal destination for a holiday because we can go to the Pyramids of Chi for meditations every day if we choose. I started to make arrangements, considered dates and so forth. He was keen but at the same time he sees the oncologist again in six weeks and he may wish to begin a new treatment that requires him being here. Scheduling something has become something outside of our control.

In the meantime, we work away at putting our lives in place. He's actually expanding his business rather than starting to close it down and this is in line with the fact that he has never thought the idea of retirement is for him.

I am completely aware that my life has always and will always spin around my husband. It's the relationship, our dynamic; the way that suits us both. There is no changing this.

There's a bit of a trick they use in psychology, in couples therapy, where they might get one of you to do the opposite of where they want you to go ultimately. That's what happened to me a while back. My submission was removed (I am here to tell you they can do that!). 

When I finally accepted that this is what had happened to me, not a trick of the mind, but absolutely a state of mind where I no longer had access to even my erotic fantasies, I screamed bloody murder. I did not go quietly into that good night. My submission is so very much an embodied and enduring part of me that I was rageful about it, until it was returned to me, at a deeper level. Then, I was fine.

I have had some pretty confusing and confronting situations over my life, but nothing was quite so confronting as those ten weeks when I felt like what maybe a regular girl feels like. No, it was worse than that. It felt like I was in a desert without water supply.

There's another trick of the psychology trade where they might put the work into creating change in the quiet one (comparatively quiet, that is). That also happened to me, this time at my request. When I changed, everything changed. Somebody has to be willing to stand up and say, 'I can do this. Choose me.' That's how a 'system', a marriage, can evolve.

In a few days it is Mother's Day here and I am fortunate to say that I have four children of which I am immensely proud and five divine dear grandchildren. 

Over the past few years, I have learned to let judgment go; to just consider that we are all doing our best, except the manipulators, thieves and cheats. They need to do better.

My purpose has been to love; nothing more, nothing less. I do what I do with that intention, knowing that to grieve is to love. They come to us cap in hand. That's the journey. That's the human experience. The sooner we understand this, the better.