Feeling Tired


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Posted by from mem on October 13, 2002 at 13:27:38:

Maybe I'll try phoning again in a little while - but your line is busy.


I hate that. I hate sitting here at the computer, so tired my head
hurts, having read for hours waiting for Ian to fall asleep again.

Shortly after I spoke to you, Ian woke from some horrible dream. I
heard him whimpering and crying, and went to him. I asked him what was
wrong, but he could only cry. I brought him to the bathroom - both the
fever and all the water he drank. often he would wake not sure of what
was wrong,

But he would only cry. "I'm too slow. And I can't carry all of it. I
want to be small, please, let me bend down. We have to get out of this
place, please let me get out of this place." And I was talking to him,
but he wasn't able to tell me what was wrong, only that he had to get
away, and he wanted to bend down, and he was crying all the while.

I was so frightened - and I was holding him, sitting in the dark in the
bathroom, not knowing what was wrong that could have him looking at me
with his eyes awake and open and he didn't know where we were.

He kept insisting that he had to get out of here - and that he was too
slow, and he couldn't do it. I told him I would help him, and that he
could come home, and we could go anywhere he wanted. "I'll bring you
wherever you want, and I will be faster than anything." And as calm
and soothing as I tried to be, soon I was sobbing - holding him in my
arms, stroking his head.

Even now, remembering, I am crying again. He's fine - it was only a
very intense nightmare about a cliff, and someone hurting him, throwing
rocks down at him. But those moments in the dark - when he couldn't
come out of the dream, and I couldn't find his mind to soothe him - and
I'm thinking wild thoughts about fever, and neurotoxins in fish - and
stranger things - encephalitis, meningitis, schizophrenia. He was lost
to me then - and the whole experience has horrified me to my core. I
can't lose him - I see how that would destroy me.

It was only when we'd left the bathroom and I was holding him on my
bed, that he seemed to start to surface again - find his way out of the
dream that had so possessed him.

But he has only now fallen asleep enough that I could get out of bed
without waking him and phone you. Only I can't reach you either - but
it doesn't matter that much - how could I tell you about this? And
what help would it be -

I think sometimes that we will become friends - something like the way
I was with TW and he with me - but I have been thinking too of
something I started to talk to you about the other night - that I can't
ever have my life back. I can't sometimes feel that I will never be
okay again - that I will never trust anyone enough to love them, and
never love anyone enough to marry.

In finally finishing my Annulment - I realize that it's over, but I'm
not healed much. I'm harder, more impatient, more fearful - things
have kind of closed-off inside me. Was it the failure of my marriage
to Dave, or his strange decline into bitterness and rage, or the way
that tortures Ian, or the fact that my best friend died and I wasn't
there with him to say goodbye, was it the long and futile struggle with
you to find some relationship that makes sense?

That's what my life has been - and it has so wounded and emptied me -
and sometimes I feel like there are too many years ahead of me to
endure. I'm afraid of getting old more than I am afraid of death.

I don't even know what I am saying anymore. I don't suppose it
matters.

I'll go downstairs, get a glass of wine, carry Ian back to his bed and
I'll sleep - though suddenly the whole week ahead seems awful in
anticipation. I am afraid of that too, the need to go to work the
things I haven't finished, the bills I haven't gotten around to paying
yet.

I guess I need to get out of here, too. But I'm too slow and I can't
carry all of it.

But I'll go to sleep, and I'll pick it all up again in the morning.




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