I have always felt like two people. Two very different forces, two ways of thought, two opposing personalities… it’s truly bizarre. I don’t know if others feel or think this way, and it never occurred to me to ask, but it is the real “me.” As I grow older, I become concerned that this might be a sign of schizophrenia because that runs deep in my family. My father had it. How I justify that it’s “okay” is that this other voice, the passive me, is still “Josh.” Just, not me.

Passive me is this empathetic white knight. The one who wants to defend and protect all of those around me. He is honorable. It’s just that he’s really fucking lazy. I say that because he only lives in thought, he never actually does anything. At times he will take over and move to the forefront and become me, however it is only when it’s absolutely necessary for our success. As if he thinks “oh, Josh is gonna fuck this up… better step in.”

The active me is selfish and petulant. He is angry at life and wants to be free of everything. I’d rather do what I want to do, when I want with no consequences. The primary josh is also the one with the short fuse and hot temper.

It is these two forces that fight inside of me at all times. Yet the thing I find odd is that “passive me” is the one with the firmer voice. Usually he is the one that talks some sense into the belligerent one. Lately though… that isn’t the case.

I am constantly at odds with myself. My life is chaos and I go into these fits of rage in my head (sometimes audibly while alone in the car) where neither wins. It’s just absolute insanity.

It’s the same bullshit everyday where I am angry that I have no control of my life. If I wanted to do something is always at the whim of someone else. I need permission.

Perhaps that’s why I the angry side is looming large in these moments. It’s my inner child fighting back.

The image I have of this battle is like a pulsing, swirling ying-yang, almost as a dual colored sun.

The glasses of grief truly distort one’s perception of reality. At least it has for me. Suddenly all I see around me exists in this moment only, and we must be grateful for it because it could be gone in an instant. I dare say that this is how we should view the world always. Only then can we appreciate what it is we have.

Today is my husband’s birthday. In all likelihood this is his last. What am I doing to commemorate his 46th year on this planet? Nothing. Much like our anniversary it will pass by without any significance. We will sit at home and just exist.

I hate that I have planned nothing. I just feel guilt like I’m letting him down. But when I try to think of a plan I am met with all the limitations to what he is physically able to do, regardless of his wants (which are none) that I become overwhelmed and stop.

I wish I could say that this is a new character flaw but it is in fact packaged with this model. It’s why I procrastinate.

I wish I could remember the first birthday I spent with him but for the life of me I have no memory of it. The most likely scenario was that he worked and then we went out to dinner where he would have paid. At the time I was a selfish 18 year old boy with no job. I probably ended up giving him a sexual gift in lieu of anything meaningful.

Ugh… I have turned this into a “poor me” post. I need a new perspective. I’m not the one dying here. Therefore I shouldn’t be so miserable.

Tonight, like I do most days, I started to wonder what my life will look like without personal chaos. Since July 2019 it has been spinning out of control. My dad died the same week my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, which was only three months prior to my husband going on medical leave before ultimately diagnosed with a terminal illness a year later.

This entire time I have just been pushing through, focusing ahead, prepared to meet the next hurdle. And when this race is all over… what then? What will I be like? What will I do?

Already, I am not the man who started. I have been shaped and molded by this grief. It has destroyed my mind. My memory is shit. My problem solving skills are very rough. I don’t want to go back to that person, because I do believe there has been growth and development. I just want to stop losing aspects I once treasured.

My life has narrowed down to a near distinct point. I just exist for another person. To keep him going. Keep him comfortable; happy. To carry him toward the end.

There is a world outside of the home that I now spend 90% inside of, but I seem to care less and less about it. Or anything else really. Social media has become a side note to everything.

And then as I start to look up, past the mess, and toward the distant horizon I am overwhelmed with guilt. How could/can I think of a life without someone in it. How could/can I be so selfish? I know life does/will go on… but do I have to think of that now? As the guilt sinks deeper into my body I move to other thoughts and vices.

Tonight I had a flash of this beautiful memory of my husband. It was from our stay in Rochester, while getting his “second opinion” with the Neurology department at the Mayo Clinic.

While I had been working at my minuscule hotel desk, he went to Target and bought a folding card table so that we could play Magic the Gathering (MTG) while on our trip. The card table took up the entire empty space of the room but we made it work. He used this blue and black rogue deck against my red and green deck. He ultimately won by a sweet combo that I remember just multiplied his faerie rogue tokens to an insane level and wiped me out in one turn.

While this doesn’t appear to be at all significant, it truly is a remarkable moment for me. My husband was never one who liked nerdy things. I had tried to get him to play MTG when we first started dating but he wasn’t interested. Then when he did invest in buying a deck to play… was the same night he found the proof that I was cheating.

Sitting in that room, playing a nerdy game with him is such a bright spot in the sea of growing dark.