The Wisdom of Age
Jan. 22nd, 2025 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
callistotoni Something happened last night that made me ponder on how I handled it now, at 65, instead of how I would have handled it when I was younger. More specifically, how instead of focusing on the logic of the situation I responded with empathy.
So ever since I met Jeff he's had a storage unit. This unit has been almost untouched for the since 2008, with one visit from Jeff and Cathyn a few years ago. I never saw it, but my understanding is that it was filled with craftsman furniture that Jeff dreamed of restoring, to fill a craftsman house that he dreamed of living in. Now, when he was with his ex-wife, they did have a craftsman home, but they fought a lot and eventually divorced and she got the house. All this went down before I met Jeff. In addition to this to-be-restored furniture, the unit apparently had books and some old SCA stuff.
Over the years Jeff and I had talked about getting out from under that unit. I believe it costs over $300 per month, which Jeff has always paid out of his own pocket. There was not realistic way to get that furniture and those books, and nowhere to put it (particularly the furniture). Bottom line, we'd talked about the logic behind getting out of that unit and dealing with what was inside multiple times, but for all the predictable reasons no action was taken. Then came Jeff's cancer diagnosis and the need to economize to help pay those medical bills. Obviously (to you and me) that the Portland storage unit needed to go.
But understand Jeff's mental situation. That unit contained hopes and dreams for him that he had not let go. He was holding on to his dream, and keeping that unit was a way of holding on to that hope that someday, somehow, he'd achieve the house of his dreams. It also, mentally, held a significant part of Jeff's younger self. Now, logically, at this point in life, that house is never going to happen, and the chance of Jeff ever restoring all that furniture was slim to none.
Jeff had gotten to the point where he understood that something had to be done about the unit. Not naming names, but he had a conversation with a dear friend that offered to help and told them of a few items that he absolutely wanted to keep. How it was going to get down south to him in practice was not covered, to the best of my knowledge.
So, with Jeff's knowledge, some fantastic friends went to deal with the unit the same weekend as An Tir 12th Night. When they opened the unit up, as I understand it, the contents--including the furniture--were not salvageable realistically. So these friends--who I will be eternally grateful for -- cleared it out. Now, I was not there, and so I did not know if anything had been saved per Jeff's request (see above). All I know was that the unit was cleared out, another friend was going to do the final sweep, and that Jeff needed to call the storage unit company and give notice. However, I had been informed of this but Jeff hadn't said anything, so I had to assume that he had not.
Last night Jeff was feeling OK, so I told him that he needed to check with the friend he had talked to (see above) about the unit, but that my understanding was that it had been cleaned out and he could give the facility notice. Long story short, Jeff had a melt down. He did text the friend, but did not read the response. (I did, and saw that some things were kept so not 100% of things went away).
Here's where we get to the subject line. I understood how he could be so traumatized. One thing he said was that a part of him died. But I knew that trying to bring comfort through laying out the logic and reality of the situation--something my younger self would have done-- was not the way to respond. I could see that the best approach was to treat this like the death of a close friend; the death of something very dear to him and his past life. I could see and understand that Jeff's response was one of deep grief. So I just held on to him, said nothing, and listened.
Eventually Jeff said that he understood it had to be done, so I think he'll be able to heal from this hurt. But the grief is still deep and real and I understand that.
To be clear, he's not mad at our friends; his hurt is rooted in grief and disappointment and maybe some acknowledgement of death. I'm super super grateful for all the time, effort and work our friends put out to help us.
So ever since I met Jeff he's had a storage unit. This unit has been almost untouched for the since 2008, with one visit from Jeff and Cathyn a few years ago. I never saw it, but my understanding is that it was filled with craftsman furniture that Jeff dreamed of restoring, to fill a craftsman house that he dreamed of living in. Now, when he was with his ex-wife, they did have a craftsman home, but they fought a lot and eventually divorced and she got the house. All this went down before I met Jeff. In addition to this to-be-restored furniture, the unit apparently had books and some old SCA stuff.
Over the years Jeff and I had talked about getting out from under that unit. I believe it costs over $300 per month, which Jeff has always paid out of his own pocket. There was not realistic way to get that furniture and those books, and nowhere to put it (particularly the furniture). Bottom line, we'd talked about the logic behind getting out of that unit and dealing with what was inside multiple times, but for all the predictable reasons no action was taken. Then came Jeff's cancer diagnosis and the need to economize to help pay those medical bills. Obviously (to you and me) that the Portland storage unit needed to go.
But understand Jeff's mental situation. That unit contained hopes and dreams for him that he had not let go. He was holding on to his dream, and keeping that unit was a way of holding on to that hope that someday, somehow, he'd achieve the house of his dreams. It also, mentally, held a significant part of Jeff's younger self. Now, logically, at this point in life, that house is never going to happen, and the chance of Jeff ever restoring all that furniture was slim to none.
Jeff had gotten to the point where he understood that something had to be done about the unit. Not naming names, but he had a conversation with a dear friend that offered to help and told them of a few items that he absolutely wanted to keep. How it was going to get down south to him in practice was not covered, to the best of my knowledge.
So, with Jeff's knowledge, some fantastic friends went to deal with the unit the same weekend as An Tir 12th Night. When they opened the unit up, as I understand it, the contents--including the furniture--were not salvageable realistically. So these friends--who I will be eternally grateful for -- cleared it out. Now, I was not there, and so I did not know if anything had been saved per Jeff's request (see above). All I know was that the unit was cleared out, another friend was going to do the final sweep, and that Jeff needed to call the storage unit company and give notice. However, I had been informed of this but Jeff hadn't said anything, so I had to assume that he had not.
Last night Jeff was feeling OK, so I told him that he needed to check with the friend he had talked to (see above) about the unit, but that my understanding was that it had been cleaned out and he could give the facility notice. Long story short, Jeff had a melt down. He did text the friend, but did not read the response. (I did, and saw that some things were kept so not 100% of things went away).
Here's where we get to the subject line. I understood how he could be so traumatized. One thing he said was that a part of him died. But I knew that trying to bring comfort through laying out the logic and reality of the situation--something my younger self would have done-- was not the way to respond. I could see that the best approach was to treat this like the death of a close friend; the death of something very dear to him and his past life. I could see and understand that Jeff's response was one of deep grief. So I just held on to him, said nothing, and listened.
Eventually Jeff said that he understood it had to be done, so I think he'll be able to heal from this hurt. But the grief is still deep and real and I understand that.
To be clear, he's not mad at our friends; his hurt is rooted in grief and disappointment and maybe some acknowledgement of death. I'm super super grateful for all the time, effort and work our friends put out to help us.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-23 05:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-23 10:40 am (UTC)And super yay for friends willing to give their time to deal with stuff long stored! I am so sorry for Jeff's loss of the stuff, and the dreams that can't be realised with exactly that stuff. I hope he is able to find new dreams to realise that are within reach, and bring joy.
Hugs!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-23 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-23 10:58 pm (UTC)I'm glad he has you by his side.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-23 11:21 pm (UTC)Logic/math brain did the (2024-2008)*12*300 = $57,600 spent which no one would want to hear when grieving. Storage units are a weird thing. Kind of like dream/sentimental payments.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-24 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-24 07:23 am (UTC)