The theme of defending my thoughts, decisions, way of life and basically my entire essence has been the gift of daily, repetitive conversations with a person with a failing memory.
I can edit my answers on a daily basis. And I do. It started as a way of entertaining myself. To repeat the same answer on repeat is energy draining. So I started thinking deeper, looking further and wondering if what I always thought held true.
It amazes me how the brain functions. Though no two situations are alike, what I realized about the person I do know is though the actual memories fade fast, the emotion tied to the lost memory lingers.
I can almost be certain that when today's conversation rolls around to "What are you going to do when you leave? Who will you see? What will you do?" and my usual answers are "Nothing, no one, not a thing", what will remain from yesterday's conversation is "Why don't you like talking to people?".
My 85 year old companion has a more active social life than I do. Activities in the condo she lives in begin at 7:00. In my world, 7:00 equals the end of my work day and all I want to do is go home, crawl into my pajamas and turn off the world.
The feeling I have at the end of my day takes me back to my daycaring days. When the last child went home, I ceremoniously locked the door, closed the blinds and sighed a huge sigh of relief. I was done. I was depleted. I had nothing left. I was "closed for business".
My close of business has been extended from 5:30 p.m. (in my daycaring days) to 7:00 p.m. (in my current role). Physically, I do less than I have ever done. Mentally? I am spent.
I am "on" from the moment I open my office door. My bookkeeping duties vary by the day but that can change on a dime. One phone call, one email, one piece of mail can (and does) change the trajectory of my day.
Best laid plans have been thrown out the window so many times that I have stopped planning. This is not a good thing. Angst is the word that describes the way I walk into far too many days.
I close everything down at 3:30 to spend the supper hours with my senior friend. After being "on" all day, I am more than ready to turn myself off.
That is my defense. In reality, I think my priorities are skewed. I remember how energized I used to feel when ballroom dancing was my passion. I was transformed the moment I walked into the dance studio. I was so busy learning the intricacies of dance steps and technique there wasn't room for any other thought to enter. I felt complete fascination and enjoyment in the moment I was in.
Passion. Laughter. Music. Movement. Physical contact. Challenge. Community. These are important elements for living a good life.
Ten years from now, will I have the ability to defend this portion of my life? Right before Mom died, she asked me about my ten year plan. She saw the writing on my wall. She foresaw this moment. I'm five years ahead of schedule. I should have aimed for a five year plan.
Life is full of ebbs and flows. I'm ebbing right now. This is not the end of my story. I'm back in the messy middle. Again.
I didn't think I would have to keep reinventing myself until the end of my days. I thought there would be a time of coasting. Perhaps that is exactly right. I have coasted for quite some time now. I'm sitting on a precipice and wondering which way to forge onward. There is no clear path. Only bush.
Sitting on the edge of a choice is one of the most uncomfortable places for me. Especially when there is no defined choice. There is no decision that needs to be made. Keep coasting? Or seek the path hidden behind the bushes.
When I look back on this moment in time, I don't want to find a seed of regret that was planted because I was too scared to move.
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