TheBanyanTree: The Diaries, 6/29/04

[Monique]

Now blogging at: http://schizodiaries.blogspot.com/

Another crisis out of the way. I think it's out of the way. The worst of it
is dissipating, dissolving, melting away, and we can go on now. 

I think. He kept saying he was headed for this, and I kept saying, "Why? How
do you know?" I didn't want it to be true of course, and kept denying it.
Every day I'd say, "But you're doing so much better . . . " but he wasn't,
or the fact that he was didn't negate what was going to happen anyway.
Staying on an even keel is no easy matter around here. 

"What's wrong?" I'd ask.

"I don't know," he'd say, in obvious pain, frustration, turmoil. 

"What do you mean, you don't know? You must know." This is me being obtuse,
as usual, and insisting on answers that don't exist. He really doesn't know.


He felt violent. Suicidal ideations. I'd say homicidal inclinations, but
that would sound as if he's dangerous, and I've never believed him to be
dangerous to anyone but himself. To himself he's a menace, his worst enemy,
but I don't believe him dangerous to anyone else. At least no more dangerous
than the driver of a car who has a sudden aneurysm burst and loses control
of the vehicle. Hey, these things happen. That's life. 

He has a few scratch marks on his face -- unintentional. He was playing with
a knife, one of those bright shiny objects that are so fascinating when he
finds himself deep in the pit. He didn't cut intentionally; he did that
about a week or so ago. But nothing else this time, just running a knife
over his face and not realizing it was a bit closer and sharper than he
realized.

You think this doesn't sound normal? I'd welcome you to the club, but we're
not currently taking new members.

He's coming back. It's as if he goes as far down into the pit as possible,
total immersion in a world that is nothing but pain, and he must go that far
before he can come back up. Maybe there's a springboard down there that
allows him to come back up. It's also true that maybe, just maybe, it's not
as deep as it used to be. This is a possibility, or else it's my new world
view making it seem so. 

The world is brighter and shinier now. Maybe it's the constant sun we've had
in Seattle, something which is, for us, quite unusual. Maybe it's something
else. Despite setbacks and the feeling that I'm treading water in a pool of
sharks (how the sharks got into the pool is a mystery that I have no answer
for), I have much hope for the future, for the possibilities that exist
everywhere, for what might be. I have much hope for him, that he'll find his
way, though he often has none, but he does not know himself like I do. His
perceptions are skewed, just a bit off . . . more than a bit off, but all
the same. He has things he is meant to do, as we all do, and he has value
that he can't see. 

He's emerged on the other side again. And he's becoming more independent. I
often don't know what he's up to, or what he's doing, or how his ebay
selling is going, because he's just doing it. This is all good. Daily
check-ins are done of course, but all the same . . . he's coming along, he's
doing well, despite the occasional plunge into the deepest part of the pit. 

And my plunges into the pit? They're more infrequent, and manage to be
dispelled rather quickly. More like a quick dip into the quagmire, then I'm
out again. Of course, sometimes I'm rather spent from pulling him back out,
but that's to be expected, isn't it? 

I see progress being made every day. In one form or another.