HELEN’S STORY

MAKE WHAT YOU LIKE OF THIS. IT IS A STORY.

It is soon to be our 52nd. Wedding Anniversary. September 13th. 1969 was a day that was to define the rest of my life. It was a day that both ruined me and made me. As I write, he is sitting in the corner of the room, disconnected from me and the rest of the world. This is how he has been for 52 years, to a greater or lesser extent. The room is a bedroom, and I am in the bed, fastened there by all that has happened to me. I am blind now, so I cannot see him. He is silent, so I hardly know he is there or what he is doing. Just an occasional movement in his wheelchair tells me he is still there- physically anyway. If I were to get up, I too would be in a wheelchair though I can still walk short distances on my walking frame. I cannot feel much, for my hands, feet, face and legs are affected by neuropathy. I had cancer you see. In 2013. I am cleared now, but it and the drugs left their mark on me, and now I am like this. Totally dependent on others – mainly him.

Last night I asked him to hold my hand. To touch me. To connect with me. We have not had connection for so long now. Either physical or emotional. I am not talking sex, but something far deeper. I am talking about a meeting of souls. A joining of spirits. Things of the heart. Sometimes, if I am honest, I feel he hasn’t got a heart. I think he would disagree. But then he disagrees with most of what I say.

I was frightened this morning. I woke, as I often do, feeling unwell. Today it was worse than usual. It seems to be getting worse all the time now. I knew there was no one there. Not really. Yes, he was there physically, but not mentally. I feel afraid when I wake alone – when I find he is not there, even physically. I am left alone with my fears and worries. And there are many. Our lives have descended into a witches brew of all kinds of emotions, all bubbling round. It is hard to deal with or contain them all, and so they bubble out onto each other. Most of it is anger and frustration. For me it is fear too. For we are being left like this, with no help whatsoever. Not that we haven’t asked for it! Sometimes there is screaming – from me that is. This morning there was no screaming, except the silent screaming inside. I was too weak to scream. I could hardly drag myself to the bathroom and once there, I almost passed out. I returned to bed feeling as if I might be dying. I wanted to communicate it. But communication is dead between us. Something stops him being “there.” He lives in his own world. Always has. If I speak he does not hear me. He is good at “disappearing.” This is the story of my life. Disappearing acts!

I have had to be strong. Self sufficient. Right through my life, from being a child, that is. My father was hardly ever there really, having disappeared to God knows where once again. Sometimes it was to another place, following some dream of his own. Sometimes it was to another woman. One said he had made her pregnant. I don’t know the truth of that. No one does – except the woman herself, and God knows where she is. Probably dead now. Like he is – and my mother too. She was absent as well, not having wanted me. You do one of two things to things that you don’t want – you either ignore them or punish them. She did both. I suppose he did that too – my husband that is, but for different reasons. He was once told by a counsellor that he was on the autistic scale. Is that what has been wrong with him all these years? Some things do seem to suggest it. But whatever it is, I have suffered, and suffered greatly. But I am ill now, and cannot take it. Like this morning – I needed him. I know his life is hard though. Both our lives are hard. All I ever wanted though was to love and be loved. It just wasn’t to be. He said he loved me, in the beginning. That was what drew me to him. I am a sucker for love. Probably because I didn’t experience it at home as a child, but rather, just the opposite. So when he said he loved me, that was it! But what is love anyway? Maybe he does love me, in his own way. But I am looking back now, and remembering, as I try to think what brought me to this place. This place of utter desolation. This place that no one else can connect to.

15 thoughts on “HELEN’S STORY

  1. There is but a year and a day’s difference (Sept. 14, 1968) between my wedding anniversary and yours, so (although there is not the chasm between my wife and me that there is between you and your husband), I can relate to the realization the years bring us down to earth and dissolve “happily ever after” as time goes by. Life is not fair, but has been especially unfair to you. All I can say is that I feel your pain and hope that somehow there will be better days ahead.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. blindzanygirl

    How very kind of you mistermuse. A very very happy wedding anniversary to you. And many more to come. This story will contain happier things too. I tried to comment on your last posting on your blog. It was lovely. I wrote it all out but then couldn’t find the post comment button. But it was a lovely post 🤗

    Liked by 1 person

  3. blindzanygirl

    Thankyou so much Dr. Crystal. I am sorry to hear about your marriage. We are fellow travellers then. We keep going though don’t we. Hugs.

    Like

  4. I wish that you would be fine. Try to do meditation, I think it would help you, Lorraine. You known how to do meditation, don’t you? I do that everyday and it made me felt good. Love you very much, Lorraine.🌹❤😀

    From
    DTQT.

    Liked by 1 person

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