When I began this blog I said it would be the continuum of the therapy I got from writing the book. And here is one of those moments. Last night, I was texted the picture below from home and my much better half asked if I could find Duke, our white Boxer.
I can see Duke curled up sleeping on the bed yet what was most noticeable was the empty bed. That is our bed, in our bedroom, in our home. Empty. Empty because I am sleeping in a hotel room where there is a bed, a desk, a chair, a television, a refrigerator, a microwave, a toilet, a sink, a shower, two nightstands with a lamp on each, and a painting over the bed. None of which is mine and other than my clothes hanging on a coat rack, as there is no closet, the only memory of home are the pictures of my much better half and our doors on the idling laptop’s screensaver.
I am living in a hotel because no one will hire me after being asked to resign for no reason other than I will not cater to exaggerated unrealistic emotional expectation, entitlements, or the so-called VIP. Because of that I am working at a locum job in South Dakota and living in a hotel room.
Although most of the time I do well while away from home and distracted with work, personal moments like seeing our empty bed causes me to miss home. So I sit and stare. I sit and stare into space, my hands touching in front of my face, as if in prayer, my two thumbs under my chin, my nose pushed between my palms, and I sit. Sometimes I close my eyes and take a deep breath only to blow it out through my palms.
Other times I sit, my hands touching in front of my face, as if in prayer, my two thumbs under my chin, my lips between the pads of my fingers and the tips of my fingers pushing on the tip of my nose, and I sit. Sometimes I close my eyes and take a deep breath only to blow it out through the pads of my fingers.
Other times I sit, my palms touching, my fingers interlocked in front of my thumbs and my thumbs touching my lips, again, as if in prayer. I then take a deep breath only to blow puffs of air through my palms.
All that sitting and staring because I would very much rather be at home with my much better half I love so much and our dogs, Duke and Abby.
I spent over ten years in the military, to include combat, and I never missed home, and much less, I never carried the psychological baggage I carry of trying to help others during peace.
Sometimes, and only sometimes, my eyes well up knowing these are moments I cannot share with my much better half, because she will listen to them quietly, and that is not fair as it is not her fault my profession and desire to help others has become my misery.
Okay, I am done. Thank you for listening. Next [patient]!