MI

My grandfather had an MI (myocardial infarction=heart attack) yesterday. I have worried since I was a little girl about him being gone. I thought he would be there forever. It is strange to be in this situation in my life and have this happen. I don't quite know what to ask and it is all too involved with my own emotions to really process any of it very well.

My friend is going into cardiology and I had him talk to my grandfather's cardiologist. He got all the information. It is an odd feeling of too much connection and simultaneous disconnect. We learn so much to compartmentalize our emotions and feelings and some of our too sensitive responses to patients that it becomes so different when it is your own loved one. It makes me worry that I am not strong enough to deal with the emotions that medicine inevitably includes.

With my grandfather they talk about surgery and diffiuse disease...and I know what it all means...and I know how risky things can be at his age. And I have seen people go down either path. I know he doesn't want to end up incapacitated at the end. I know he is strong and could recover. I guess I am just afraid. I know too much for my own good in this case. But maybe if I didn't know at much it would be bad in just the opposite way.

Compartmentalization and Liking Yourself

Just finished another no tissue session in therapy. This was a marathon session since I had my psychiatrist and my therapist back to back. I think it went well, though. I'm supposed to start weaning the Klonapin for sleep and stay at the same dose of the Lexapro at least through Spring of next year. Dr. L. said that depressive episodes can last over 9 months once they are stable, so that should see my through. Plus I don't think going off of it intern year is a great idea.

So the psychiatrist was really more of a med check...and he thought I should continue with a therapist in San Diego to work on more of the deeper issues like why I make so many excuses for the person I love even when they treat me poorly and like I should not be treated. That I need something to make sure I don't do this again. That I stay consious of my inner red flags.

The next hour with Dr. D. was more in depth. A couple new things came up today.

I guess you need a little background on the state of the (dis)union with Michael first. I went the six days without talking to him or even trying to, which was huge form. Then we ran into each other on a run and have been seeing each other and talking a bit since then. He has been more present with me than he has in months and is more sorry than ever for what he did; and wishes he could take it back and that he had never done it etc. I still love him. Even though I want to be able to say that I wouldn't get back together with him, it is moderately tempting (I shake my head at myself just writing that). I still love him, that's the crux of the issue. I have become used to the thought of not being together and now the slim possiblity of long distance and them him moving out in a year is wierd to think about. Wierd in the sense that deep down I don't really want it maybe. But it is tempting and nice to be with him some now.

So, anyway we got into that and that I'm struggling with saying no. I joked about the next shirt I need (after my "I'm kind of a big deal" and "Stay Classy" shirts) is the "Just say No" shirt. Dr. D. said it would depend on what I told myself about saying no and the reasons that I told myself...and what part of that I decided to tell him.

"What would it take for you to get back together with him?"

"He'd have to do what he says he's going to do. Not lie to me. Not cheat on me. Take more action about his commitment to us...stuff like that."

With out even much of a therapist pause, Dr. D. responded, "He'd have to like himself more."

Hmmm, I thought. Very true.

"From what you've told me about him and the things he's done," Dr. D. goes on, "He just doesn't like himself enough to think that it's worth it to follow through on anything. Maybe because he feels like he can't be a better person, so why try."

Maybe.

"The first step he would have to take is getting into therapy...and from there it would be a long long road of working it out after that, too." Says Dr. D.

"So, he's not the person I want to be with now and he would have to work really hard to become that person. He's even said things like that to me--that he doesn't like himself. That he feels sometimes like he is not a quality person. That he didn't want to start us up again because he didn't want to innoculate, or infect, us with him again. He's still depressed and insecure and projecting some of his guilt onto me."

He's not the type of person I see myself with. He drags me down into some swirl of darkness sometimes. But it is still hard to say no when he is there and when I still love him.


We talked also about compartmentalization. How all along Michael has had parts of him that I never liked: his off-putting shyness around my family and friends, his distance, his inabality to open up, his performance in med school and now residency, his never being pround of me until I reming him to, his drinking, his going out with friends, his magazines, his obsessions with is motorcycle, his ADHD tendencies, his insecurities, his coldness, his exclusion of me from his social circles etc. The thing is that he usually was very different when it was just the two of us. He became sweet and warm and loving and tender and silly and goofy and caring and sometimes even thoughtful.

Given that, I would "compartmentalize" (Dr. D's label) the other stuff--the bad stuff that everyone else saw and the reason they all would look at me funny when I told them we were together and the reasons they all say something to the effect of "good riddance" or "you can do so much better" now that we're not(ish) together.

He said that compartmentalization isn't always bad, but that I would have to be careful to do it in moderation and be aware of what I was sweeping under the rug while I was doing it and even later to peek under there to see what I kept denying to myself.

I told him that was a good term for it and that, becasue I'm hypersensitive in nearly all aspects of my life, I have had to almost over compensate with even more compartmentalization.

We both agreed that it is something perhaps over-developed in medical students in particular, who have to deal with things that most of the rest of the world doesn't see. And who have to find some way to deal with it and go on and let it go.

Perfection is fluid

Today is a beautiful day. I got in late last night and didn't get to sleep until after 4 am, but woke up at 9 am to a glorious sunny spring day. The fruit trees are all blooming and scattering their petals at the slightest breeze as the leaves start to push through. The dafodils and tulips have finally decided to greet the sunny weather and are popping up everywhere. Even the dandelions have returned to the lawn...the the dismay of more structured gardeners.

I woke up and decided to go for a run before the sun got too high and the day got too humid. This would help prevent the full force of mid-day skin damage...and allow me to get my run in a talk to mom as I walked around afterwards. So many people are out and everyone seems to be in a good mood.

I met a little dog named Scout who seemed to like me, although his owner says he usually doesn't like runners and sometimes barks. I scratched his back and he melted like butter.

Much like the yummy butter and bread and tuna and pork that J. and I shared last night at tapas (the first time we'd gotten there early enough to get warm ones). I was post workout and needed protien to rebuild my muscles. He loves that place anyway. Then we watched Anchorman for more good San Diego quotes. "Stay classy." "I'm kind of a big deal. People know me." "Take me to Pleasure town. Oh we're going there!" Afternoon delight. "Baxter!"

It felt good this morning to be out in the world and in the light and the sun. I feel sometimes that Michael is a swirl of darkness that sucks me in and sucks the life out of me. That part of life does not feel like me. Being with him in the state we have been in does not feel like me. It is not who or how I want to be...or who I am.

In yoga class on Wednesday (I love my yoga class by the way) my instructor opened the class by sharing an epiphany she had earlier that day. She explained to us about perfection and how we sometimes try to recapture what we once thought was perfect--how we will try to recreate a magic moment or trip or feeling or relationship. But that it is never really the same.

That achieving perfection is also in the moment--in the present--and has a lot to do also with letting go. To reach new perfection, or magical moments of happiness, we have to let go of the expectations of regaining those that have passed and open ourselves to those which are present and future.

"Does your boyfriend have brain damage?"

Well, I made it almost a week without seeing him. Friday we ran into each other out on a run and did the rest of the run together. He ran slower so I could keep up and I asked him to pick me a flower. We just talked and caught up. He is missing me more--regreting more--when I'm not around all the time. He said he thought I'd left for San Diego already, which doesn't make any sense. I'd talked to someone about his condo in Miami--I don't think it's in a safe place and he even said "I wouldn't walk around there at night." Between that and the war zone that Jackson Memorial anestheisa program is I think he'll be miserable. He thinks he'll be able to tough it out.

Then more lies--he sort of hung up on me yesterday; he said he'd text me last night and didn't. Said he'd call today and probably won't. I am not holding my breath anyway. Oh well. Se la vie.

My maintenance man just stopped by to give me some money (long story) and I'd just gotten back from a run and am in my sports bra and shorts. He and I have chatted; he's a nice enough guy. He knows Mike broke up with me...or lost me somehow. Once we'd finished talking, as he was leaving, out of the blue, he says, "Does your boyfriend have brain damage or something?"

I sort of looked at him, "Why? For cheating on me?"

"I didn't know he'd done that, but I just thought there might be some explaination for his behavior."

"No. He just made a big mistake. He'll regret it. He already does."

He shook his head, "Okay then. Well, call me if you need anything."

The Oscar

Well that didn't last long. I think we all knew I wouldn't leave things like they were at the hospital with him slamming the door on me and stomping off. I knew it anyway.

So I went by his place tonight; he forgot the whole bag of stuff I gave him at his work. I told him again that I knew he wasn't home last night and that the truth was better than whatever evilness I was imagining in my head. He kept insisting that he was there--though he knows and I know he wasn't. I don't know why it is so hard for him to tell me a simple truth. He tells me lies with such ease and frequency.

I do have a theory, however--a few actually. Whatever the truth is, he feels consumingly guilty about it and uttering it would make it entirely too real. He continues to blame this on me and now the new scape goat decision that I made is not going to Miami, "You chose San Diego over me." Well, yes, but you cheated on me, lied to me, and gave me no reason to believe that any of that would change in Miami even if I were to take the requested "leap of faith" and go down there.

And I went to J. after the hospital scene earlier. He's out of town for the weekend and I wanted to say bye. We were talking about what happened and how Michael (or anyone) has a vision of himself and his life and then something happens that makes you realize that you are not the person who you want to be...and it makes you feel awful about yourself. To me there would only be one option--change whatever you didn't like and act with conviction. J. said there's another that is just accepting the flaws and living with them. I said that sounded hollow. I'm afraid that is what Mike has done, though.

The real theme of his conversation, however, as I was trying to say goodbye and get the truth out of him for once was, "You need to go home!" He must have said it about 100 times--no hyperbole, seriously. He would point to the door or the floor or raise his eyebrows for emphasis, like I was a dog or something. "Come here." Pointing to the floor, "You need to go!" Ugh. Ridiculous. And I'm sobbing and trying to have an actual give and take conversation with him.

Everytime I would ask him something difficult, he'd either tell me I needed to leave or that I was "not stable" and he would "talk to me later." I kept asking him to just tell me goodbye. He couldn't do it. He can't end it. He just kept saying later, later, later. I told him we're out of laters (and have been for a while). "I'm going," by this time we were in my car, soaking wet from the downpour outside, "I'll talk to you later."

"I don't think so." I said, I'd been sobbing for most of the conversation, and was soaked from being in the thunderstorm. I'm not sure he heard me since he slammed the car door and walked back to his apartment. I got out of the car and walked around in the rain more. It felt good to wash away some of the tears--or disguise them. And the coolness of it felt real and honest.

He did say some nice things: "I'll always love you." "You mean a lot to me." "I'll always love you most." "I miss you." "You're not stable, but it's okay because I love you anyway." (He actually came up with that last one without prompting.) True? Not true? Telling me just what I want to hear?

He doesn't know what he wants to happen with us. I told him I was giving him the "permenant out" and all he had to do was say goodbye. I just wanted him to awknowledge that it was good bye. "I don't want a permanent out," he said. He sure does act like he does sometimes. He's not sure when he'll "talk to me later." He agreed that he would "come find me" when I was more stable and he wanted to talk and realizes what he's missing. Most of these thoughts, you have to understand, are me asking him questions and partially putting words in his mouth...he mostly just agrees, disagrees, stays silent, says "I don't know" or "I have to go."

He does look at me and kiss me when he says he loves me. At least there is that.

I hope I can stop letting him hurt me now.

My therapist warned me to be able to accept whatever happened during our goodbye--and that he might not be able to give me what I envisioned. At least it was in the rain. The weather matched the scene. I said all I could think of to say at the moment, through the tears. I acted the way I envisioned...and wanted. He didn't play the part I wanted him to entirely, but at least I got a few nice things out of him...if not a goodbye.

I asked him how he'd envisioned saying goodbye to me, "I don't know." Shocking.

Once I'd walked around in the rain a bit after he was back inside, I got all went and cold and finally got into my car and drove back to my place. I actually felt okay, "I should get an Oscar," I thought, remembering the crying in the rain. I laughed to myself for a moment before the tears returned with the thought that it's easy to "act" when the emotions are so real. When the hurt is so tangible.

So I'm home now. At least my computer started right up; it has been tempermental lately. And the thunderstorm and tornado warnings are still going on. I figure I won't have many thunderstorms in San Diego, so I will try to enjoy this one. I had something to eat--the first meal today, maybe in a couple days, I can't remember.

Maybe I'll watch a movie tonight. Or try to go to bed early. There is some fleeting relief in this stage of the goodbye. Sweet relief.

Love's Last Lie

I have had a funny feeling for a couple days now. I knew something had to happen...and I would have to make it happen. I needed one more push--one more splash of cold water in the face--to get there.

Michael was on call on Wednesday night and then I tried to get in touch with him yesterday (Thursday) via phone call and and literally about 40 text messages all to no avail. I went by his place and he was not there; he never came home all night. He didn't sleep there. He ran by this morning only to grab clothes and got to work late--after 8 am. These are facts that I know for sure.

I am now at the hospital where he works; he hates it when I come here. I wanted to give him the last stuff that I had for him...and say bye. Since he won't see me anywhere else--or return my calls.

I asked him where he was last night. "I was at home! I passed out for 16 hours straight. I had an awful call night. Three patients died."

"I'm sorry you had a bad night, Sweetie. But I know you weren't home. Can you just tell me where you were? Please."

"This is f---ing ridiculous! This is inappropriate. You cannot show up at work like this. I told you where I was. I was home! I have notes to write."

"I know. I just wanted to give you that stuff. I made you something...and say bye."

"I hope your intern year is awful! Because mine has been and you keep making it worse!"

"Those are your parting words to me? Well, I hope you are happy and you do well. I hope everything works out for you."

"I'll talk to you later. I'll see you later."

"No. You won't."

"Okay. If that's how you want it. Bye." We were talking in the stairwell outside of the ICU and he left me there without so much as a backwards glance.

He never told me where he was last night. He feels guilty about it whatever it is so deals with that by lying to me about it. Who am I kidding, he was probably with her again.

And this is the first time I'd seen him since Tuesday. He told me he wouldn't cut his hair because I like it longer. It was buzzed again.

When I dream

I slept late today because I had "Independent Study" this morning. I was tired so needed to sleep probably but ended up having (and remembering) one of those dreams that felt so real you were relieved when you woke up enough to realize that it wasn't.

It was about Michael. Shocking, I know. He was different in it than he is in real life, though:

He'd reconnected with a female friend of his that he knew from when he used to give nature hike tours of some sort of park together. Her name was Abby. I met her; she was very nice. Shorter than me. Mousey brown short hair. For some reason the two of them ended up having dinner at my parents house without me. I had another commitment of some sort. So they had dinner there and watched a movie (I think it was something like Tarzan). When I talked to Michael later, he looked all dreamy and happy and was treating me differenly again, but not mean anymore, just different. I asked him what was going on. "I'm in love." He said. And he looked it. He glowed. They seemed like a perfect match. They had a history that I couldn't understand. I suddenly felt like the outsider. His feelings for her were completely impenetrable, though. I could tell that just by looking at him. I wanted to be happy for him, but really I was just hurt. Why in three years had he never felt that way about me...that strongly? So we said goodbye. But he forgot some of his stuff here and I was running after him to give it to him. But he didn't really care; he was so in love.

Anyway, it was relief to wake up.

And now that I am awake, I have a few ideas about where some of the inspiration may have come from. Last night just before I went to sleep, I wrote to one of my friends who I hadn't heard from in a long time and he and I used to do a lot of hiking and outdoor stuff together. And I talked to Michael briefly before falling asleep (he was on call in in ICU last night again). And J. and I went to dinner last night and I had wine and chocolate (well and really good realy food, but the wind and chocolate are always the ones that mess with my dreaming head). We were talking about what was fair and unfair to expect in relationships and how there had to be that strong love out there; and that it was so nice to find someone to love to that depth and strength. And I'm still not convinced that it happens like that. He has faith. I wonder if it is something that I have to believe in in order for it to happen. A self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.

So perhaps the dream was a "wish fulfillment" type with projection of what I want onto another person (Michael). He represents me in the dream and Abby is the person that I want to find (but not a girl). More I want to feel that way about someone. I want to have it be instantly right.

There's more to the interpretation than that--for instance, why did I react and feel the way I did in the dream? Why was it Michael? Why did I need to give him his stuff (which is actually true)? Maybe part of it was that in loving someone else that much, it completely closes the door on him and me. And that needs to happen, too?

There is a Crystal Gail song entitled, "When I dream" that is one of my favorite songs. It is about how she can have anyone she wants, but "when I dream, I dream of you. Maybe someday you will come true."


When I Dream lyrics

Artist - Crystal Gayle
Album - All-Time Greatest Hits
Lyrics - When I Dream

I could have a mansion that is higher than the trees
I could have all the gifts I want and never ask please
I could fly to Paris, oh, it's at my beck and call
Why do I go through life with nothing at all?

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

brief strings interlude

I can be the singer or the clown in every room
I can even call someone to take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on and drive the men insane
I can go to bed alone and never know his name

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

Lost and Found

By the way, my ear magnents fell off yesterday. First the left one in derm clinic, then the right one while I was getting into bed. Oh well.

And I found $15 on the ground. I was thinking about that a little as I fell asleep. When I am rich (if ever), I am going to just sometimes discreetly drop $5 or $10 bills on the ground for some lucky person to find. It just sort of makes your day a little.

My Red Flags

Just got out of the therapy appointment with Dr. D. There were tissues this week--four or five of them I think. It was a good session, though. I needed a little jump start and clarity to some of the things that have been swirling around in my head so who better than your therapist for that?

I guess when he'd asked me about "red flags" last time he was thinking less of the red flags I would see externally in the other person and more in my reaction to their behavior. For instance, what made me make so many excuses for Michael for so long? And how will I recognize myself doing it in the future. It is like asking addicts how many times they promised themselves they would stop. How many excuses could I make before making them stop?

Well, let's see...my internal red flags. Why did I make excuses for him?

1. I wanted to believe him when he told me he was just out with the guys
2. I wanted to believe that he was faithful to me.
3. I felt some sense of understanding and guilt that I had questioned our relationship in the past.
4. I felt in some way some twisted responsibility for what he'd done (maybe--he implied it but when asked always said it was entirely his fault)
5. Fundamentally, I made excuses because I wasn't sure what was fair to expect from him and from a relationship in general.

Relationships are hard work; they are not perfect; sometimes you want to strangle the other person; sometimes you just want them to go away for a while. But under it all--under it all--you love them enough to put in the work; to put up with the imperfections; to not strangle them; to stick it out when things get tough.

And so where do you draw the line? Somewhere in between where I drew it with Michael--that level of excuse and forgiveness and work and hurt and imperfection is just not acceptable--and the fairy tale. I guess that is the short answer. I guess I am supposed to figure it out.

I don't expect the fairy tale anymore. I don't expect to be treated the way I have allowed myself to be treated over the past months and years either.

We were happy together for a time, content, with rare blissful moments. I would like more of the blissful; content is fine, but none of the deceit, and much less of the hurt.

I want to be that couple that you see walking down the street who you can just tell adore each other. My brother, C. and his girlfriend are like that. I hope that's not unfair to expect. I think it's hard to find, hopefully not impossible.

I want to be the old couple going for walks on sunny days who just chat and hold hands and care for each other and listen to the same voice they have heard for 50 years that never gets old.


He wouldn't have been that person. He brought me down.

Like last night. I was in a good mood; he was in a bad mood. So he yells at me and blames me for things and tells me that he didn't want to get into anything. Neither did I. It was ridiculous. He just called to say good night. Shocking that he even followed through with that--I think it was just because I threatened to show up at his door if he didn't call.

He's pretty much a jerk, really. Everyone I talk to now who knew both of us never understood why we were together to begin with. We were so different; he was so grumpy (which I thought was more shy...and still may be) and I was more cheerful (generally...at least that's what most people except him saw).

My therapist asked how often I still call him, "A few times a day, but he only picks up about once every other day."

"Maybe he waits to pick up until he is grumpy." He half-jokes.

"Maybe. Yeah, wouldn't that be great. But really I think he's just grumpy all the time these days."

There are times, coming more frequently, when I feel better without him.

When my parents were here in February, my Dad drew me a graph of my emotions. Over the course of my relationship with Michael it was basically an up and down course with a squiggly line until we got to the cheating/fighting ugliness where it took a huge dive and stayed down for a while (as he was drawing this that was still very much were I was--at the bottom of the pit). Then he said it would start to climb back up and my baseline of strength and confidence in myself would be higher than it was in the middle of our relationship. Then I would meet someone wonderful and it would just shoot up exponentially off the graph. So anyway, he called the pit, the "implementation dip." The worse before the better. And now I'm starting to feel more of the better. I'm not sure that I'm at the higher baseline yet, but I think I'm getting closer.

We (Dr. D. and I) also talked about how I envision how Michael and I will say goodbye when we leave for good. I said I thought it would be very sad. Tears and all. Then we would talk a when we got to our respective coasts. The talking would become less and less and things would just fizzle out.

He warned me again to not expect any sort of emotional goodbye scene from Michael. And hoped that I didn't need or want that from him.

"I think I do want that." I said as I thought about the scene in my head, "I guess I'll have to figure out how to not expect that."

"Well, or more precisely just be able to accept whatever happens from his end. Because it's not that you don't deserve or want that closure; it's just that I would be worried about basing any of that scene on his role in it."

I pause, thinking, "You're probably right. He more than likely will react with minimal emotion." I'll have to work to prepare myself for that.

Earlier we'd talked about why we hadn't said goodbye before. I did go over there on Friday to say goodbye and every time I do that, Michael sucks me back in. Despite saying it is too emotional to see me and that he doesn't have time and what is the point anyway...

So I ask him, "So do you not want to see each other anymore?" I mean, really, let's be clear here.

"I want to see you. We'll see each other again."

I think more and more that he just doesn't know how to say goodbye. He's afraid of it. He can't picture it...the reality of it is too much for him. Just like the reality of me matching in San Diego almost crushed him...almost crushed him into realizing more and more what he'd done and what he'd lost and how truly awful he has and is behaving.

"When? When will we see each other again?"

"I don't know."

"I leave in less than five weeks...for good. We're out of time."

"I'm really busy right now. Presentation, condo closing, moving, etc."

"So when?"

"I don't know. I'll call you. Not tonight. We'll see each other though...when I'm ready."

That's crap. "When you're ready? No. No. You don't get to call the shots." He pushes me much more and he's pushing me right out...for good.

But there we go, I forgave him again. Red Flag. Red Flag. Red Flag--now I know.

"So you'll call me tomorrow?" I ask, annoyed but still wanting to be the nice one and the bigger person in this tangle of emotion and anger.

"Yes, I'll call you tomorrow." He sounds relieved to have an excuse to get off the phone.

"Okay. Good night. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Shawna. Good night. Bye."

Ugh! So then I'm all hurt/mad again and it's late and I wanted to get to bed earlier. Frustrating. And I have other people who mean much more to me who I need to care for. I was glad to be off the phone, too.

What I miss, I think, is becoming less and less him and more just that sort of love you feel when you are in a relationship like that. I really enjoy loving someone in that way. And I miss the physical comfort of someone there. As I fell asleep last night, I had enough klonapin on board to imagine that I was holding his hand like we used to when we'd sleep together. That's all I wanted. Someone there to love and hold hands...but not just anyone...that's the hard part. Someone who can love me as much as I can love him (the as yet unknown him, not Michael anymore).