Of course I cringe at a ‘tsk’er, I am one

By admin on September 13, 2010

Tsk is the annoyed clicking one’s tongue against the roof of one’s mouth.

The exasperation of a tsk as it escapes almost involuntarily from the tsker and is acutely felt by the tsked target (the tskee). Shot like an arrow, tsk scores a bullseye.

Tskees hear – out of my way – step aside – move on – not now – not again – get over it – here we go again – give me strength – not now – you would – still?

I know the experience of tsk from the perspective of both tsker and tskee.


Tsk disapproval
Tsk annoyance
Tsk exasperation
Tsk frustration

Tsk impotence, not knowing what else to do – no way to change the other (the tskee in this instance)

I tsk with the best of them. I tsked Mottsu, firguratively at least, he would have felt an accute tsk on occasions. Living with someone who is deeply depressed is incredibly draining. I wanted to help, I couldn’t, and I kept trying with, what was probably, a relentless Pollyanna cheer. He was seeking support from professionals, I wanted to believe he was well supported. I’m not so sure he was and at the time I didn’t know what else to do, how else to help.

I tried to indulge him, spoil him and cocoon him from the world. It all washed over him, impervious, nothing touched his dulled heart. It’s tough living with someone who is severely depressed, I’ve already said that and need to repeat the sentiment. My point is that caring about someone with depression is a difficult experience. It’s worthwhile, it is absolutely the only choice to make, the experience is also immeasurably more difficult for the person with depression than the bystander, and the effort required is relentless for both.

On his last day Mottsu was distressed, I have written about that before. I was concerned and I had opted to stay home from work to be close to him. He said he had an appointment with his psychologist,he said, and drove away.

The moment he drove away stony faced and tear stained was the moment I could have tsked with exasperation. What I did do was skip. March 15th was a sunny day, the sky was blue it lifted my heart. Mottsu was getting support, I was going to get my legs waxed. I figured I had two clear hours I skipped, foolishly happy.

I didn’t see Mottsu again, I don’t need to be tsk‘ed by anyone I tsk myself every day.

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You would be the one who was left

By admin on August 28, 2010

Here’s a link to a two minute recording of Robert Patterson and his wife Karen talking about his Alzheimers. I have played it over and over, it’s the most moving piece.

The conversation had me remembering the first Process Work workshop I attended. There was an exercise the participants did that stayed with me. It was a meditative exercise, a series of steps and reflections. Each of us had to imagine ourselves at the end of our happy lives and look back at what had been important to us.

Career was paramount for me back then. I was only at the workshop with a group I worked with because we hoped to bring to some new thinking to our workplace. Imagining myself at 90 and pondering on what had been important was revelatory. Work did not feature, just people, well Mottsu in particular. Important to me were relationships and people. It was obviously something I believed but I hadn’t ever quite realised, or let myself realise. The knowledge delighted me.

When I came home I talked Mottsu through the same exercise, only he wasn’t delighted, he was half-hearted at best. It was some time later after we visited a friend in hospital that Mottsu mentioned the exercise. The projection into the future had troubled him and he hadn’t been able to picture himself as old and content, only old and ailing.

Decrepit.

Seeing himself as ill and alone he had been unable to recall joy in his life.

Overwhelmed.

The conversation led us to explore the idea of who would die first. The topic scared me, I didn’t want to be left behind. I felt I would be irreconcilably alone if Mottsu were to die first, it was a shared fear. Karen Patterson re-frames our conversation in her conversation and it touched me deep down: “…the greatest thing you can do if you love somebody was hope that you would be the one that was left, and that you would be the one who could care for you lover…”

Mottsu was so alone in his depression, and I was there. I wasn’t there in an emergency worker or rescuer kind of way, I couldn’t keep him here, and even so I was there. As best I could I cared for him. I am the one who was left.

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Carried away

By admin on July 7, 2010


…and then there are times you are:

- bursting with happiness

- overcome with joy

You can be carried away by emotional forces less adversarial, less oppositional but just as controlling

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Battling on…

By admin on July 6, 2010

Emotion is a force to reckon with, an adversary that irresponsibly that takes control of my very being. It’s true, just look at how we describe emotions and the power ascribed to emotional forces. For example I can be:

– Blinded by rage

– Consumed with grief

– Overcome with despair

– Crippled with anxiety

– Driven by longing

There’s oppositional force endowed on emotions. We’re overcome, dealing with emotions can be a battle, we can be rendered victims of our emotions and become as helpless as puppets. Picture yourself as the puppet burdened with emotions and the puppeteer pulling the strings, manipulating responses and actions.

I visualise emotions as being inside me, the presence of those emotions made known through physiological sensations, like crying, or not crying and all the while trying to keep it together, keep it together.

The challenge is not to conquer or hold back our emotions but to allow them to be expressed authentically and appropriately, even if that means not ‘keeping it together’ on occasion. I’d like to be informed by my emotions rather than overcome (or taken over) by them.

Trying…

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