Anticipatory Grief

 I think about being in a storm, not quite sure where you are or what's the correct direction; what, in fact, to do.

I think about the advice, told in so many ways and by so many people, not to focus on the past or worry about the future, but simply to focus on the present moment.

I remind myself that control is an illusion and that life will play out regardless of my input. I can control all sorts of little outcomes but the big outcomes, other people's decisions, for example, are well beyond my control.

I think the tough part for me is not knowing, are we going backwards or forwards?

For the vast majority of people with cancer, there is a team who supports. The person may not take all the advice offered by them, but overall, there's a strategy in place, often a cocktail of strategies, and thus there is a plan. 

My husband has tended towards being a lone ranger in so many capacities and his cancer journey is no different. He doesn't want me at the appointments with the oncologist - says the guy is too dark and there is no upside in me hearing what he has to say - and thus I don't have the opportunity to hear what he has to offer.

I find myself listening for the bits and pieces of information offered to me, trying to make sense of them, sort of attempting to put them together to see if I can make a tapestry. 

I cannot honestly say if I know or even think, if he is going forwards or backwards because the information I have is too disparate and even contradictory.

I have noticed that I am feeling numb about it all, perhaps I am not sitting with any story that could or would ground me. I mentioned this to AI and the response was that numbness is to be expected, a way of coping. I suppose it is. If you don't have the data what else is there to do?

I think when it 'all falls apart' there's a solace and a strength that comes from a return to meditation and to the sense of equanimity in meditation. When I was guiding meditation groups, I almost always used the imagery of taking two steps back from the mind so you could observe it more clearly. This immediately puts one in the seat of the witness and in that seat the mind quite naturally starts to slow a bit. You can see the thought(s), almost like picking something up in your hand. 

In fact, it occurred to me just now, it's a companionable thing to do too. There's you, the compassionate observer, and there's the mind, dancing not too graciously.

When I was in Bali last year, the love meditation my husband and I did in a group had a very lasting impression on me. If I need comfort I go back to that room in my mind. We were invited to feel into the deepest love we had for another person and then, with the most divine music playing, to take that love and give it to ourselves. This was a magical moment for me and so I repeat it alone as required. I pour the love inside myself, like taking a jug of healing water and pouring it over my body.

It's a strange walk, the cancer experience, both for the person with cancer and the person accompanying the person with cancer. AI called it 'anticipatory grief' and encouraged me to reach out to a group of people going through a similar experience. I will think about it.

Transformation into power exchange

 If I go back two years in time, there was a conversation one day with someone well versed in the BDSM community that didn't make sense to me. I took that to mean, since I am not well versed in the BDSM community, that I must be wrong or ignorant.

He was talking about training submissives, (I admit that that sort of language still has both an appeal and a distaste for me), and I listened along, a bit confused. Eventually, I asked a question.

'I don't understand what you mean exactly,' I said. 'It sounds like you are saying that you can transform a relationship into a D/s dynamic by working on just the submissive, training her.'

Now, I have to paraphrase this conversation according to my recollection obviously, but this is what I remember.

'Think of it like a car... 

(My mind went straight to riding a girl)

...Imagine a guy drives a mini minor. Well, I turn his girl into a BMW.'

I actually went through this sort of 'training', in short form, a big emphasis on 'obedience', but of course this did not create a satisfactory D/s dynamic because what hadn't been satisfactorily sorted were the emotions and subsequent behaviours that had not been addressed and resolved, on both my and my husband's part. On a particular day, he felt rejected by me, and that was enough to blow the newly returned dynamic apart.

Of course, if I could have taken back that day and replayed it, I would. I have reminded myself that if it hadn't happened on that day, it would have happened on another day. It would most certainly have happened because his vulnerabilities and distresses still lay just below the surface. 

What hadn't been accounted for was that we had come out of a difficult period of time where he was spending a great deal of time at his desk trying to resolve business matters. He felt vulnerable about his health. There wasn't enough time spent together, next to no fun; inadequate displays of affection; low priority of our marriage in our lives.

Yet, we were being told we were codependent on one another. We were being encouraged to spend time apart. Yes, I had to come to terms with the fact that I needed to create a life on my own if I were to handle the situation, since he was utterly wedded to his desk, I understood that.  But how exactly was this going to create the connection and passion I craved in my life if he hadn't been 'trained' as well?

By turning me into a BMW and leaving him unable to find space in his mind for anything much than work - in other words, leaving him feeling that the sky would fall if he took his eyes off the business and political scene - or off his health, or that he was in emotional danger of feeling that he could do something 'wrong' in our relationship - the car, albeit traded in for a better model, was still sitting in the garage.

Looking back on it, the best advice would have been like this.

'We need to look at the marriage. Sort through feelings and emotions that have accrued in recent years. We build into it, once the feelings and emotions are expressed and resolved, new behaviours that will prepare the marriage for the next stage. It may take up to a year to prepare the marriage for a power exchange that will last. If you are up for that, let's do it.'

This is what I would advise. Make your relationship the very best it can be, based on evidence such as from research undertaken by the Gottmans. Consider work with a therapist trained in emotions focused therapy. Maybe, at that point, you are happy as clams. Maybe you want more, a power dynamic. Well then, now you're good to go.

Just the two of us

 In just a few days, my husband and I are officially empty nesters. My youngest son moves out to live on campus for his final semester of college. It's a landmark event, one that puts us back where we were 40 years ago, just the two of us.

It's going to be quite a thing. We're still in the big family house. We will be 'rattling around' as people like to say. Once upon a time, the people that lived in this house used an intercom system to communicate with one another but that hasn't worked for many years, so I have tended to send a text when dinner is ready, and people appear.

Without a student in the house those long gruelling days of academic writing have, more or less, come to an end. That is to say, I won't be surprised if he returns on certain days to discuss a topic, and I won't be surprised if my days as editor have not entirely come to an end, but he's remarkably talented, so all things being equal, I can hang up my academic assistant boots.

Truthfully, I have considered taking up an academic pursuit of my own, but at the same time, I want to see how it goes for my husband and I to return to a state of 'just the two of us'. I don't know how long he will be well enough for us to share time out and about, so I don't want to compromise the next period of time with distraction. It's a hard choice because there's a big part of me that would like to get qualified and act as a therapist. Maybe two therapists in the family are one too many. Maybe it's my time to slide quietly into activities that provide me with joy. 

When I think about this time, I imagine time carved out for pleasure. I keep banging on that we need to walk every day and now I can turn that into a reality. We can head out the door and, in any direction, we can walk to a coffee shop or a park or a supermarket. We can simply walk the neighbourhood and enjoy the many styles of architecture and beautiful gardens. We can walk to the club we both belong to, and that's on the agenda again too.  A simple lunch or dinner, maybe a sauna or a swim; for me, an exercise class, or for him, some gym time.

Reduced tickets turned up in my inbox yesterday for our town's Symphony Orchestra, so I bought those and booked into the restaurant nearby for an early dinner. We've bought plane tickets for a holiday and started to book accommodation. We are getting into the spirit of this empty nesting, with blind faith that everything will be all right.

We have marked a day in our calendar when we return to the holiday house together and put it back together now that the painters have gone. Together, it won't be so overwhelming. In fact, it will be fun.

In two days, my eldest son arrives with his two sons and wife. Apart from a few hours at the beginning of his life I haven't seen little L and I am excited to hold him again. He's been an angel.

So, maybe, just maybe, we've paid our debts to the Gods of Fire and Fury, and we can enter a time of peace and quietude. Well, mostly, this world rumbles on, the Earth shakes, but seasons come and seasons go, just as they have always done, and maybe we have entered a season where we can take care of one another and find pleasure and purpose in one another's company. We have built a beautiful family together so now maybe we can rest a little on our laurels.