I’m feeling like failure today.
Feeling like this always makes me anxious and often cranky with those who can put up with me the most. Thankfully, the Boyfriend is one of those people. I have been hanging on every edge I can find and every moment when I feel like I’m not doing enough I have felt the tears well up. Biting my lip to make sure they stay back where they belong.
Mr. C has been in NYC for a couple weeks now. What I thought was going to be a business trip for him lasting six months was really a chance for him to be treated by one of the best surgical oncologists in the country(or so they say). A week ago Mr. C had his surgery, and expected to be in a posh rehab center by last Thursday, but that changed when he sustained a fever for 48 hours and was unable to produce good test results. It’s all gibberish and lingo, that I don’t get at all. Nothing sticks. My brain feels like it’s lost all of it’s sponge-like qualities.
Half the time I feel like bursting into tears. The other half I am angry and cranky at not being able to be there for Mr. C. He was there for me during my physical healing after two surgeries. He was there when I needed someone to help me get downstairs and I was too ashamed to be honest with my family about what I needed. He was there. And not being able to be there sucks.
Nomad has kept me posted on the details. He has been there. Shit he lives there now. Nomad’s girlfriend sends me texts and emails to assure me that everything is going to be okay.
So, why the failure self-beat down? I’m a classic fixer. And I can’t fix shit. I can’t make things better from the other side of the country. I can’t make my best friend laugh at the illness that has taken three uncles and a cousin on his Mom’s side. I can’t hug my godson and tell him that every thing happens for a reason. I can’t look at Mrs. C and share that knowing glance we have somehow honed over our ten years of sharing a husband. I can’t punch Nomad in the stomach and make everyone awkward with our rebounding from our past. My hands are tied and not in a way that Mama is used to by any means.
This whole weekend I have been a Bear. I know it. The Boyfriend knows it. Anyone within ten feet of me this last four days knows it. But I am grateful for having people in my life who let me be the Bear when I have good reason.
Mr. C has been my rock for as long as I can remember and now Mama is having to be rock solid without being able to be hands-on and for the record this blows. I know I’m not failing anyone by not being able to fly on my broomstick to NYC but my heart is breaking and maybe that is what failure feels like sometimes. Or maybe I’m just used to feeling like my heart is broken every time I fail at something because I put every ounce of me into everything.
I have to find peace with this one…