I don't like sharing my personal feelings or emotions with people. Let alone with strangers on the internet. It's not that I'm guarded. Just don't see the need in burdening other people with any of my troubles when the world has its own. Peoples lives are usually their own personal hell anyways.
No one needs to be reminded of this.
However, just this once I wanted to share what is going on in my life through an odd example that popped into my head. So if you want to know what my life is currently like and peer into the twisted void that is my mind then continue reading and keep an open mind.
So imagine there is an invisible wall in front of you. You can see thru this wall but cannot pass it nor get around it. The wall is indestructible and undeniable.
Now imagine behind this wall is the worlds most beautiful painting of a woman. Beauty is subjective but just roll with me here. This painting is flawless in every form of the definition. From the craftsmanship of the frame to each brush stroke creating her face, eyes, smile, and scenery.
The colors are vibrant and the more you stare at this picture the more it enthralls you and you cannot stare away.
Now imagine a decade passes. You have had the wonderful pleasure of looking at this painting that time itself has slipped away and nothing else really matters.
Suddenly without warning or reason someone tells you that they are going to take away the frame of this beautiful and perfect painting. The hand crafted beautiful sculpture around your perfection that supports this painting is viciously torn off by it seams piece by piece. You stand there helplessly as the paintings frame is brutalized and torn asunder and left on the floor. The painting itself it still intact though and left neatly standing.
While this breaks your heart to watch this done to the painting. You still are left with something utterly beautiful. Her gaze still mesmerizing and everything seems to calm once the damage is done. Then someone tells you that they are going to remove all the color from the painting. Slowly drops of paint fall from the edges of your lady and the vibrant world around her turns into a simple matte of black and white. You bang your fists against the wall and beg them to stop this but the process is quick and over.
Despite this horror. She is still there. The artists perfect black lining that created her eyes, lips, and smile are all still there. She stares at you and while you weep to see what has become of her. She is still there with you. Still perfect. As long as you have this, you can be happy. The remains of the frame on the floor now drenched in a rainbow of colors disappears and all is calm again.
Now imagine that the lines begin to shake, her smile shifts, her eyes avert from you and begin to look away. The black lines and white matte almost seem to lose their shine and without warning the painting is nothing left but a blur. Her face turned away from you leaving nothing but streaks of black paint behind.
She is gone, you are left there alone behind the wall with nothing but your anger, frustration, depression and despair.
No pun intended, but this isn't a pretty picture I have painted you is it?
Sadly, the truth is that this isn't a situation that I imagined or made up in my head.
Only the perfect woman in the painting is my wife.
The wall is her incurable disease that separates us.
The atrocities that happen to the painting is my wife decaying in front of me day by day, month by month.
My wife is the most wonderful, beautiful person I have ever known and I am losing her, piece by piece. Everyone says that things will get better, that they aren't so bad. There is still hope.
Before you say that to me, read this, live this, and try to understand. She is my everything and I am nothing without her and I am powerless to save her.
I don't know what to do. I don't wanna talk to anyone. Nothing is going to make this right.
So there you have it. A glimpse into my mind at this point in my life. If you've read this far, thank you. I didn't write this to depress anyone or ask for help or whine or bitch or moan. Just this is the simple but undeniable truth of disease and being married to someone who has an incurable disease.
I dedicate to this to my wife and any husband who has had to stand there behind that wall with me.