kvetching up

I think Jenny intended to punch me in the kishka tonight in therapy. What a load of horseshit. I learned several things that were of interest as we sat through her self-pity. I'm losing my patience, but it is self-pity, to be sure. I don't begrudge her sadness over her illness. But this nonsense over the words I exchanged with her abettors last week is just too much--just too much. Tonight she lied, abjectly, saying she was going to lose the help of these schlmiels because of me. Mind you, Heather was here today and no one turned into a pumpkin. Albeit, she remains a shit in my eyes. Heather spent the day with Jenny. Jennifer Murray is here tomorrow. It's all a bunch of nonsense. I think her fear of abandonment makes her just act out. With the therapist, Jenny was so oblique, never saying exactly what the issue was, I was forced to explain what happened, unapologetically. The therapist was unfazed, saying that I had felt the need to speak my truth. Jenny never mentioned she...

  And then the other shoe drops.  .  . Jenny went to Jennifer Murray's after therapy ended at 1:30.  Murray had another friend over, someone else with stage iv cancer.  When she arrived home, she was, not surprisingly given how the day has been going, morose.  She rushed to her bedroom and threw herself on her bed, sobbing.  Not unusual.  Happens weekly.  I have no answer to this.  I do my best to first give her distance, and then give her comfort.  I followed that pattern.     Prone on the bed, she tells me she wishes she were dead now.  What is the point, she asks. "I am just going to die anyway."  She then begins a list of lamentations, of which I am not unfamiliar.  She is completely overwrought as she lists them: She is going to die; there is no point; she gets no affection.  She sleeps in the bed alone.  Exeunt Geoff, who retreats back to the couch. Glum I begin entering the above, and h...

Musings After Coffee I had a thought for no one's but your ears: That you were beautiful, and that I strove To love you in the old high way of love; That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown As weary-hearted as that hollow moon. -William Butler Yeats, from Adam's Curse Satan Touching Job with Boils Wm. Blake What is true, what is real is that we stopped working. Looking back, I remember when the fighting stopped. I was relieved. Does this mean that I had already given up? I hadn't been intentionally creating conflict. I was relieved when she was with her friends, it meant one less point of contact in which fighting might occur. But no, we were getting along better before D day. I was convinced. My children would say the same. We had traveled through Europe in 2018 happy as larks--okay with the exception of our anniversary date, when we had a row in front of the kids. I am as blind as a drunk with his hat over his eyes. Yes, even now. I have no idea how I...