Sometimes I find myself thinking about being alone. At times, I watch myself from afar and see how slow I am, how much energy it takes to do so little. And I watch my husband, busy with so many things that have always been on ‘my list’; things that I have always done with both pleasure and competence. And I wonder at times if being alone would be easier. For both of us.
My husband is the best. He has boundless energy — if you need someone to get a project going or get-something-done, he’s your guy. He can figure out a solution to almost any practical problem. We met in the middle of both our lives, 11 years ago. I was actively involved in my business and, though he knew I had MS, there were no overtly obvious symptoms. I suspect that, to him, MS must have seemed like just a word. I was active and busy and our life together was full. We were equal partners in every way.
Things changed 2 years ago when the MS hit with a bang — and I cannot shake the feeling that he got a bum deal. I know that doesn’t make sense on so many levels, but it’s there in my head. He would be the first to disagree with this perception, would cite a long list of reasons why our life together is still balanced in great partnership. And I would hear his words and know that he speaks a truth. And I would love him all the more for his dear heart and his endless optimism.
And then I wonder if my thoughts of being alone are more for my sake than for his. I spend most of my day’s energy trying to keep up with my life and all its happenings. Life is always standing right there in front of me saying ‘Look, there is this and this and that to be done. Get busy’. If I was alone I imagine that I woud make my life smaller, creating more manageable parameters; that life would be simpler because there would only be me. And… there would be no one to disappoint. I would not be looking at someone looking at me as I slowly wilt. And I imagine I would be gentler on myself without that reflection. But, oh, how I would miss him.
Tomorrow is another day. I will read this post and shudder at my use of the word ‘wilt’; will chastise myself for such circular retrospection. Will be thankful for love and its boundless generosities.
writingMS 
Ah, what painful reflections, and how difficult those emotions must have been to put into words. I hope you did feel differently about it on subsequent days! I find it interesting how putting things into words can help me clarify my feelings, but I sometimes fear the power of words too.
It’s true, Laurel, how thoughts become so concrete once they’re visual. Once written, they seem to take on their own strength — I suppose that is where the ‘working’ comes into play; write it down and it becomes something tangible, something to both wrestle and massage. Perhaps good exercise for the soul.
Beautifully said!
Thank you ndunbar25 — it’s lovely to meet you.