Today I wrote an email to all my children, before taking the new levels of medication…loopiness city is what you would call them more now than ever. But it is the only way to give my brain rest from the migraines, that no amount of walking medication can contain.
This is not good news for the doctors that have flooded my boss’ email with requests that I return [to the O R], because my mind is currently on other intense projects. The verdict from my boss will come this very short week- since I planned a short time off from the office. Stress they say comes in different formats- or rightly said it manifests itself in various degrees. My line of work is not the kind taken kindly by most- as it is my job to point out how best to do things-better than what they have done so far… not a maker of fellowship, but hey, it is what it is.
The email to all my children consisted in my reminding them that life is a hard place if you are not prepared for it. That while I have few regrets in life I have really never wanted to look back. I have “emptied my cup” a few times and let life fill it up again as the situation merits.
But I know where my brain is headed, even when others tell me it will take years to reach that point- no one disputes the direction; we just split hairs as to when. The letter was my way of saying things that they could read again in the years to come and know whom spoke to them years ago.
The impetus to write it, came from a conversation with my hubby during one of those night outs we never miss. The reason we never miss them is because it our shared space sans the crew. The rules of engagement are simple…we don’t talk shop; we don’t gossip of extended family- we only speak of ourselves and where we are at as people. It is one of those things we learned in therapy both together and separately, that we instinctively had incorporated into our relationship long ago. And it has helped us muddle through some pretty hard times.
This case is no humdinger either, the doctors are asking me to shut down for x-amount of days or even hours to give my brain a chance to recoup. Because it is the muscle I use the most, it sometimes thinks its on steroids… and well, it has to be told to shut up, literally.
The conversation was about changes- those done through the years due to circumstances; professional changes; and the intensity those required; changes in our kids; my son’s career and how it has affected each and everyone of us- we bite our nails to the bone sometimes if we know where he is off to; or we eat them in relief when we find out afterwards and the stories are recounted for our benefit- with the caveat that he is in one piece… I can and do understand all those moms and dads out there with children in the Service- how we keep it together is a miracle in itself.
My husband was telling me how much of a struggle it has been with his compatriots to make them understand that who he is today is not only a by product of his choices in careers; but a by product of what comes from those careers and the life he led because of them. His is not nomadic- he can’t up and leave for 8 or 9 moths at a time like they do- and come back penniless to start all over. He is not one of them in that, true; nor is he one of them in the simple nonconstructive and at times naive way they look at the world. My husband’s world grew every time he took a plane to places most of his compatriots would be hard pressed to find on a map. That he has volunteered as both an engineer, as well as a doctor in countries where there is a crisis- is a testament to his commitment to being a citizen of this world…but he knows and admits it was never always like that… he has come a long way Al-Hamdulillah.
My unwillingness to take one thing as Gospel, because someone else said it, obligated him to seek the answers as well. Our discussion on what next to do; which could very well be years ahead made him think out of the box that I was thinking of- a box that included more than at [the] time he was prepared to envision, but knew they were coming if we did or not do something. Those Insha’ Allah’s were used less frequently, because he knew many a times it was the excuse of not only not knowing but also not admitting one didn’t know. It was also the excuse of not being proactive. And he learned the hard way what not being proactive meant in a society that didn’t take lightly to maybes.
My hubby had been living his own personal hell; that he [now] felt he needed to empty out his cup of if he was going to pull through; and help pull me through this new tide of information we needed to absorb for us to continue on our life’s journey together.That night I had little to say- it was his turn to let it all out. I was just the person he was communicating to; no answers necessary.
My email to the kids was a part of that, I didn’t need nor wanted a response from them in words; but in action. I wanted them not to sell themselves short in life; life is dear and precious it must be enhanced by our actions not degraded. There was enough out there happening in the world that was so full of degradation that they needed, as always, to take care of number one- because no one else would. Unless they lived with a person who was committed to that endeavor, but those are few and far between.
I needed them to understand that they must live life to the fullest; and I was telling them now while I could; while those synapses were still firing away, albeit too much at times, but which still allowed for a quality of life worth fighting for. I wanted them prepared for what was coming; life doesn’t stop while you are planning for sure. What else as a mother could I do but hope and pray for the very best for her children.
The email was as to the point as I could make it. My only regret is not being able to let them into my mind- something I could not have physically accomplished. The feelings, thoughts, those I could and do share…for however long I can. So I leave this post the same way I left the email:
Dare to Live, to Die is so much easier.
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