Achieving Clarity, one Leap at a Time

Something began to come clear for me last night, as I sat at the dinner table with Joey (best friend), Sandi (his mom), Jim (his dad) and Jennifer (family friend).  Joey was explaining to Jennifer, who had been out of town until recently, why he was so optimistic, so not afraid of the process of his diagnosis and treatment, why he was able to gather so much strength from the well-wishes of those around us and seem to glow in an aura of positivity and even humor.

After several awful jokes where he talked about the fun of using his "cancer card"... (but mom, if you don't watch this show with me, my cancer will grow... [getting in the car] I call shotgun! ...I have cancer.)  You get the general idea =P

Joey, looking radiant with his beginning-to-be-noticeably-balding head at dinner last night:

Up until this point, I had been repeatedly taken aback by his attitude and attributed it mostly to the wall of support from everyone around him.  He was receiving such positivity from his parents, his extended family, the friends and acquaintances and strangers who contacted him and visited him on a daily basis ever since his release from the hospital two weeks ago.  And as I wasn't feeling particularly positive or supportive, I didn't know what to do - I wanted to see him, because seeing how fine and normal he seemed always made me feel better, but I didn't want my lack of positivity, my emotional turmoil to bring him down in any way.  As I felt, and as he even told me (not in a critical way but in the practical, advice-giving way he's always helped me through things), I was no help to him, no use to him, in my present condition.  I seemed welcome to spend time there, but I wasn't doing anything to HELP the situation or anybody else.  This was frustratingly disappointing to me, as I felt at once like a huge available source of comfort was bundled with guilt and shame because I wasn't supposed to be taking that comfort for myself but rather, adding to the pool.

I think I'm beginning to ramble.  Let me simplify, as only became possible after last night's conversation and the over eleven hours of sleep I got last night (I'd probably still be sleeping if my alarm hadn't gone off!) - taking into consideration that I haven't slept well in weeks and haven't slept more than 5-6 hours at a time - so here goes, in the simplest way I can put it:

Joey's and my relationship, over the past several years, had grown to a point where we were both metaphorically leaning on one another for support.  Emotional support, social support, moral support, and yes, financial support.  We kept each other from falling precisely because we were each leaning at the same precarious angle, and when one or the other was having a particularly rough patch, the other was able to pull them back up to neutral.  We were balanced.

When Joey found out he had cancer, for one reason or another when all would have expected him to break the balance by falling, he broke it by standing up straight for maybe the first time in his life.  He no longer felt alone, no longer afraid of being misunderstood forever, no longer worried that he would die in obscurity.  As strange as it seems to one who hasn't heard him explain this (in his own eloquent and passionate way, which I can't hope to duplicate), having cancer made him special, made people listen to him, truly listen to him, in a way that he never thought possible.  Suddenly his dreams of becoming a writer seemed not only possible but allowable, in a way that they always seemed like a silly fancy to outsiders before.  He found his purpose, and his support system, and his confidence all in the span of a few days in which he was being pumped full of poison in a hospital bed.  Remarkable, no?

And where was I during all of this?  Well, as anyone who's ever built a card castle knows, if one card moves aside, the whole castle comes crashing down in a heap.  When he stood up, I fell over.  The whole process of the life we had been moving towards was based on the premise that we would each gradually begin to stand ourselves up, with the support and encouragement of the other, until we were able to balance on our own.  Yet here we were, he standing in a crowd of supporters, and me lying in a puddle on the outside, trying to figure out what had just happened.

In the midst of moving to my own apartment, a transition which I was already emotionally freaking out about because of the symbolism of the eventual separation between a relationship that had been so (unhealthily) codependent for so long, the other half of my codependence seemed taken away from me.  He was over there, with his circle of admirers boosting him up on their shoulders and forming a protective shield around him, and I was stuck unpacking my new apartment (still not done), cleaning out our old place because he went into the hospital before we could finish moving his belongings, helping to transport his stuff out of the new apartment and into the space at his parents' house that is now designated as his Sanctuary, and going to work full-time.  I lived in another town now, and I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from trying to stay afloat, plus I had to keep going to work so I couldn't physically be there all the time as I wanted to.

I will take a moment to thank all those of you who have helped me to tread water during this time, so that I didn't totally lose it: Talon, my wonderful loving boyfriend who has gone above and beyond what I ever could have asked in terms of support, and with whom the relationship has strengthened in great leaps and bounds over the past two weeks.  My parents, and extended family, who first heard the news during and after my brother's wedding and have been patiently reading this blog and checking in to see how I was doing (not great).  My friends and coworkers, with whom I've opened up and shared in a way I never would have when I had a built-in support system waiting at home.

So what does this mean for me?  It means that I need to let go of the notion that my relationship with Joey will ever be the same.  It means I can't lament that, because it had to happen someday and because he's so much better for it.  This diagnosis, and the reactions to it, has changed his life immeasurably for the better from where it was meandering off into obscurity before.  It means I need to learn to stand on my own two feet, and that I can't achieve this by leaning on Joey or anyone else.  As tempting as it has been to find a 'replacement' for my support, to begin leaning on my boyfriend for everything, for instance, I can't live up to the faith Joey always had in me if I just collapse onto someone else at the moment when we both have the chance to jump years ahead in our gradual personal growth plan.  I can lean on people at times, can reach out for support and continue strengthening the other relationships in my life, but I cannot in good conscience lean on Joey for support, not when he's doing such an amazing job of supporting not only himself but the entire circle of supporters around him.  I need to be a part of that circle, but to do so I need to be able to stand up first.

I need to buy groceries, to start cooking for myself.  I need to get the rest of his boxes of stuff out of my spare room, stop thinking of it as "Joey's room", and start setting it up in the way that I will use it for my own apartment.  I need to finish unpacking, and decorating, and start thinking of this place as my home rather than "the house where I keep my stuff".  I need to stop spending nearly every evening on the couch at Joey's parents' house, staying with my boyfriend, visiting my parents, or traveling to see other friends and family members.  I need to get back on track with my workload at the office, start being productive again, and start building my own strength back up.  I need to pack my own lunch, go back to working out regularly at the gym, and I need to explore my new town, make friends and learn my way around.

All of you can help me with those things, but you can't force me into them until I am ready, and I think now that I understand, I can start taking those steps.  I thank you all for following my emotional journey, for putting up with my random acts of impulse, for listening to me and checking on me.  I will still need you in the days to come, but I think I am starting to see what I have to do, and that gives me confidence to start on my new path.  The old path is gone, and trying to find it in the wilderness will only hurt those I am trying to move towards and waste my own time.

Thanks for listening, dear friends.  I will ask again to please leave some acknowledgement in the comments section below, so I know you were here and that you're with me on this journey.  Ask questions, or just say hi so I know somebody is listening.  I appreciate that more than you could know.

And, as always, please visit Joey's blog, read and share and comment so he knows we're all out here for him.  He really is an amazing writer, as you'll see for yourself when you go to Perspective Odysseum.  Thanks again, dear listeners.