(March, 2012: Working on indexing/categorizing pieces I've blogged. Transferring this piece from my once-public blog, versions.)
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october, 2009
I go back to my online chat with James.
After starting the percolator, Darcy comes back out onto the porch and sees that I have cleaned up the cigarette area. She again sounds angry and irritated, "What'd you do with my ashes?"
"Darcy, I cleaned up my porch. That's all," I answered firmly but not angrily. I wasn't angry. I felt Darcy was reacting because she was tired and perhaps because I'd touched her things. But it is my porch. She has said repeatedly that she wants me to be myself around her. Sometimes that has been difficult because she gets triggered. When that happens I sometimes get triggered. But when I get triggered I don't usually holler and yell; I withdraw and become silent.
There was an incident shortly after the first week that Darcy was staying with us; she had a really tumultuous day, one of those tsunami-wave-hit days. I won't say it's been the toughest day; there have been many. But this one day, well it was night, around midnight, I took her for a ride in the country to help her calm and get eased. We were out by the Yadkin river at an access area. The night was crystal clear with stars twinkling. The star-gazing helped her. After she calmed we talked, mainly about grief. But a certain thing I said triggered her and she got upset with me. After calming down from that she asked what I was thinking. I took a deep breath wondering to myself if I should tell her. I did, "I'm afraid to say my thoughts." She really got triggered by that and walked away into the darkness yelling profanities at me. I was like "all the fucking rest of the people!" I recognized her response as suppressed rage, not necessarily toward me but others of her past as well. Still, my internal response was that of silence, along with other internal distorted thoughts of my ill-perceived inabilities.
Earlier on this day of the porch incident, I had taken note of how I was feeling, that I wanted to get back to being more myself. I was becoming aware that I was behaving differently, in a subtle way. I was still me, just more subdued, or something. Darcy has been living with us for over six weeks at this point. This week she had seemed to be fairing better, until the flash incident two days ago. I was being myself then too.
I try to be sensitive around her, especially when she is having a difficult day; I would do that for most people. Sometimes my sensitivity radar isn't too good; or is it that Darcy jumps to conclusions and judges my motives? That's how it feels sometimes. Am I changing my behavior to accommodate Darcy? I'm sure I am; but is it too much? I have felt emotionally attacked by her more than once; she'd apologize later and usually I would too. But should I be apologizing? Am I doing her a disservice by not bringing up these things? I feel if I bring them up, she'll get triggered and I really don't want to cause that. Am I enabling her by being too sensitive?
I understand that she is in deep emotional pain and some physical pain as well; buried grief, which includes rage, has been resurrected. I know what it's like to peel through layers of grief and when the waves or tsunamis hit. I'm o.k. with that if she doesn't attack me. Yet, when people hurt they will lash out at those they trust. That said a person still needs to be accountable and responsible for their actions and words.
She walks back inside and I continue my chat with James. James is a good friend and I let him know my house guest is upset due to my cleaning up the porch. He asks a few questions, and I answer them as well as I can on chat. I trust James.
I can hear Darcy talking on the phone inside the house. She sounds jovial; that's a good sign. I wonder if she is talking with her brother? With the receiver to her ear she walks out onto the porch. Smiling she motions me in to show me something; she seems excited. I let James know that I'll be right back.
I follow Darcy into my living room, to the bay window. She still has the receiver to her ear as she points to a spider outside the window busy in its web. I grin big; I like spiders, well the big kind that spin large webs in the fall.
Darcy continues her phone call in the house and I go back onto the porch.
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