Well, you folks have just been sweet while I've been toughing out these last couple of weeks. So much kindness and concern out of the dark void of the Internet -- who'da thought?
Things are on a more even keel for right now. A few things have changed. C. came home one evening last week, walking into my office and started yelling at me for not paying off his credit card. I snapped.
Anger is a lot effort for me, so I save it for special occasions and the people I love most. It is a momentous and awesome event. I black out a little bit, but I don't get violent. I don't think I even raise my voice. I just reach in and take your heart in my fist and squeeze the blood out, until you are born again as someone I can love.
When I was twelve I snapped on my father for the first time, and by the time I knew what was happening I was on the front porch of the farmhouse, eight feet tall of cold and righteous fury and he was down in the yard, wide-eyed and looking toward the road like maybe he could make a run for it. After I let him back in the house he was better and we were close for a while.
I'm careful with it, because I don't want to scare people into doing what I want. I just want their lives to flash before their eyes so they can start taking their decisions a little more seriously.
Since that day, C. has picked up another day at work and voluntarily quit smoking weed. We've talked a lot, and I understand his position better. It's easy to say that he has a sweet life -- a life of art and school and a stripper girlfriend to pay for it all. He does have a sweet life. He knows he does.
On the other hand, it's hard supporting someone who doesn't support themselves, and that's exactly the untenable position I've been putting C. in lately. In times of stress, I get into what might be called a pathological state of generosity. Or maybe "generosity" is too nice a word. Basically, I will do anything for anyone, but no one can do anything for me. I can't even do anything for myself. I can't rest. I can't have fun. I can't even eat. I even stopped taking my anti-depressants because I decided we couldn't afford them. Oh, my. Was that ever a dumb decision.
After the dust settled that day last week, C. pointed these things out to me, and I understood with a new humility. I started taking medication and eating breakfast and resumed yoga and meditation and things came back into their correction proportion. I've bitten off a lot in the last years, and I'm still chewing, but everything is going to be OK.
So, just in case you were concerned, I'm going to be fine. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.