When someone you know really well has a stroke or brain damage, they take a quantum leap from one person to the current person.
Generally, over time, we change. A stroke can be like hitting a brick wall and losing precious elements of a relationship to the point where you have to choose to be in love with the new person. I think it IS that drastic. Suddenly they only know you are the same and suddenly you only know… nothing. Everything changes. Yesterday my wife who has done our bills is forgetting major and basic things.
I asked her how the bills are done two years ago, to write it down in case something happens. Then one year ago, at 44, she had a stroke. Family is oblivious, unlearning, and all they see is her like usual. I, on the other hand, asked her to say my name a week ago, for example. My wife didn’t know my name.
Worse yet, she said, over and over, “You are becoming someone else.” Sure I am. Another husband for another wife- her. It is hard to say what essentially is the same. The disconnect feeling is unfathomable. Its just statements like, “You are someone else”… that can lead to some choice one way discussions where I go on to my closest friend who I’ve confided in about how she fell 2½ years ago and what that did. Her father was there and it was an accident involving his van. He was 80 then. He didn’t call 911… so I told her a weird thing.
I said, “I’m angry at who he dad used to be, because dementia has since worsened his memory and all. I get accused of being interested in and hitting on other women. I don’t do that. If I so much as say to a friend, “You look nice”, it is very random, but it can be used on me and magnified x30. I say things publicly because once you hide something, especially a friendship where you CAN communicate with ease, that would in my heart and mind be and unwise place to gain strength.
So I’d rather just sink with the ship. I chose a woman. She tells me if I have problems, talk to this woman or that woman because she trusts them. From what I understand, even if she is broken, I have an emotionally viable relationship with her- my wife. The kinds of things I want to talk about involves everything. And if she tells me talk to someone else, does she no longer understand that I believe a bond with a female that excludes her isn’t right to me.
Why am I being pushed in the direction of emotional infidelity? To me it is like saying, “After I burned my face, you can kiss someone else. In fact, I have a list of people that you can hold hands with.” Its a nightmare. I could tell her I see it like that, but also she gets confused by what I say I feel from cognizance destroyed. This is my ethic to be careful like this. I hear emotional straying lead to more anger & feeling of separation and relational death than a singular physical straying. That is in recent polls of women in relationships.
So it can only be mindlessness that prove where my heart is? I must be blessed to find that I really do love my wife. Oh, and she made her hair blonde, so while I depressed trying to figure it all out, I am going to bed with a blonde. Same person. How convenient. People change every 7 years anyway. Every atom in your body changes. I might as well learn what it all means. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still depressed, but reality doesn’t need to mystify. So what? Usually men’s wife have strokes at 65, 75, 85… what’s 44? It’s difficult. But I wouldn’t write if I fuckin’ gave up. The computer would be off and I’d be smoking again and drinking. Not hard alcohol. I just think I’d rather feel everything, then say, “Screw the past”. Here’s to the future and Pandora’s box of more hopes and dreams concerning other things that I also will have to accept as effemeral beauty in a world where Love’s blessing are muchly bound from me it seems. But I… I am. I exist. I’m unstoppable and the joy is hushed but I hear it.
Also, with this I’ve mentioned before, I’m disabled. Its hard as hell. I’ve been sick all week. And I don’t know how to ask for help. My mom is in a healing cult. She told my wife negativity about going blonde. I wanted to kick her for saying that, but- uhh. It is kind of like I wished we were accepted. And loved.