TheBanyanTree: Borderland, January 22, 2005

[Monique]

I feel like I've failed, though I haven't. I have to remember that, that I
haven't. He has to move away, back to California, to stay with his parents
for awhile. He's packing right now, packing up his apartment, getting ready
to put things in storage, to take what he needs on his "extended vacation"
and leave the rest here. 

And I will have the relief of knowing, late at night when he's having
hallucinations, or when the demons visit, or when he's just overcome with
the futility of survival in a world where his mind plays such tricks on him,
that he's safe under his parent's roof, that he's not living alone. That he
is not alone. 

He feels he's too old to be living with his parents. I tell him that doesn't
enter into it. Age and need are not related, age and where we should be at
any particular place in our lives aren't necessarily connected, and for now
this is the best solution. 


I need time to get back on my feet. I'm just one person, and though I've
kept him safe for several years, it's time for someone else to take a turn.
A team of people, this time, people who don't have to work for a living
anymore. I must work, I don't have the time, I don't have the emotional
resources to carry on like this indefinitely. Does anyone? Perhaps, I tell
myself, if I were a better person, I would have managed it. But I'm not, I'm
just who I am. 

There's no reason why I can't do everything, is there? Other than the fact
that I'm just one person, that is. Other than the fact that I'm stretched in
all directions as far as I can go, and there is very little stretching left
that I can do without breaking something. Something that I might need later.
Like my mind. Or my health. 

So he's preparing for his move, and he's managing it well. He's dealing with
it well, especially considering how difficult change is for him. He's going
to miss me, and he's going to miss Dog, and so Dog is staying with him as
much as possible before he goes. February 2nd. That's when he's supposed to
go. I told him he must come back and visit now and then. 

He'll be close to his best friend too, after he moves, to the best man who
stood up at our wedding. His friend is glad to have him back. I'm glad too -
that's three whole people he has down there for support, instead of just
one.

Instead of just me. 

I tell him he'll do fine, and he will. I will do fine also. Will I still
have an identity when he's gone? I've invested so much of myself into his
care but I know that it's not me, that there is much more to me than that,
and I will be fine. I have my life here, I have my love, I have me. We'll
communicate frequently I'm sure. I've told him to keep his cell phone, so he
can call me anytime. We still have the computer to talk through. I want to
make it clear that he's not being abandoned, or sent away because I've
suddenly decided to concentrate on my new relationship, but that this is
what is best for everyone. It will alleviate my stress knowing that he is
not living alone. Living alone is not working for him right now. He may have
thought it was, but he doesn't pay his bills, he doesn't clean up after
himself usually, he forgets to do the things that must be done on a regular
basis when one is a functioning member of society, and he lives in his own
little world. He has improved so much though. His self-awareness is quite
good. Sometimes too good. Sometimes knowing your mind has betrayed you is
worse than not knowing. I want him to find his place, and I think he needs
his independence from me to learn what he's capable of. 

Am I rationalizing? Am I saying he needs this or that to make myself feel
better about having failed? I don't think so. I think I am right. Some might
say he'll then be dependent on others, but it's a different dynamic, and
he'll have more incentive to find his own way. 

It's time. I have a life I need to concentrate on right now, a very
significant relationship, and work to get back on my feet. To get upright
again. 

So here we go.  

Monique