I’m alone with Ed, my brother whom I love , who is only a shadow of himself anymore. It’s hard. Partly from the constant vigilance needed to catch him before he wanders. Partly because he’s there and not really there. In some ways it’d be easier if he was all gone and then my heart wouldn’t be caught by old Ed playfulness or occasional astute remark.
And David made a careless error with his car which is going to cost him a lot of money. I know how shame and self anger can be so destructive . Another man I love and cannot help with his internal struggles It makes me eat ice cream. Somehow I feel the need for self soothing. I wish I could come up with healthier coping mechanisms. How can I face my own demons and self care? It’s easier to anguish over those I love than to love myself “with all my intelligence”
That quote is from a poem by Adrienne Rich which I read years ago. It struck me at the time because love is so often thought of as immune to rationality and thinking. I believe that Love is tied to the stories we tell ourselves. And we can influence and choose our stories. Choosing to love with all my intelligence means choosing stories which offer possibility, hope, salvation.
I love my son He’s 46 yrs old and struggling. I could fit all his info into a story of addiction, mental illness and character flaws. Or I can frame it as a hero’s journey, with obstacles and personal demons which throw him into pits of despair but which again and again he rises from and tries again. He lubricates his efforts with a preternatural generosity of spirit which he has had since early childhood and with a kindness toward those who are struggling or in pain. I love that Hero though I know the outcome of his journey is anything but certain. I am choosing the story I tell because I know it is a story which allows growth, change evolution. My intelligence says this story is a gift my love can hold him in. And I chose to love him as much as loving him chooses me.
I love my brother who is fading into dreamlike fogginess from his Alzheimer’s I can tell myself the story that the real “Eddie” is gone and that once he no longer recognizes me (not yet thank God) I can write off having a relationship with him. Or I can chose to tell myself that he is retreating into dream worlds but that they are His dreamworlds and so still a piece of the real Him. I can chose to play with him in those strange stories , still playing with our mutual love of language and witty repartee his somewhat caustic humor can still annoy me but it’s part of his charm too; he definitely hasn’t lost his charm! The story my love says about him is that we will be in relationship til he dies, (and who knows maybe even after that??) this story keeps me engages and connected to him even at his most frustrating. I choose to Love because seeing the positive, the marvelous, the touching keeps my soul moist and I believe the act of seeing that “goodness” feeds it, calls it into Being in the world. Not unlike teachers who see their students positives help them rise to that good. Using my ability to see the power of the stories I tell myself and using them to further the Love in the world is my gift. And I’m glad for it
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