Oct 22 2020

 I've had a long week today.  

Yesterday afternoon, my husband and I went downtown Portland and somehow managed to spot our loved one, within about 15 minutes of riding around. They were wearing different clothes than they left the house in, 3 days earlier.  Sitting on a curb with legs outstretched, they looked forlorn and lost.  Upon seeing us, they wearily said, "can you walk me home?"   I believe they had little idea where they were or how they'd gotten there.  

Walking up to the train station, we learned that they'd taken the clothes out of the trash, and put them on.  They looked and smelled like it, a grey hoodie and black sweatpants, ill-fitting, filthy, and rank. No phone, no ID, no wallet, all of which they'd left the house with. 

Between dropping off to sleep on the train, we learned they'd been downtown years, or 2 hours, had been raped, or not, had eaten at every restaurant, or had eaten nothing. They'd slept in a fine hotel, or not at all.  There was no apparent confusion in this inconsistent retelling. Each statement was true.  As were the comments about the government, aliens, and money chained to their body. 

We got home, they showered and collapsed into bed around 5 pm.  My husband and I marveled that we'd so easily found them, and at what a wreck they were, and we headed to bed early too.  We were exhausted from three days of their absence. For someone with an already fragile brain, I cannot imagine what three days on the street, with no food, rest and lucidity would do.  

At 4AM we were awoken to the overhead lights, but no sign of our loved one. Obviously they'd turned the light on, but then returned downstairs. Apparently it was time to wake up.  We all ended up in the living room, where our loved one wailed, so sad about their pathetic life. About hating life. About how they'd been downtown for 156 years. About how they jumped off a bridge. About how they'd been attacked. About how they called the police and no one answered. Huge, wracking sobs of despair.  It was heart wrenching. We've heard that one of the best ways to think of this illness is that it's the same brain functioning that you and I have when we dream. It's just that we have the luxury of awakening, and leaving that behind. Not so in our loved one's reality. It's one long dream or nightmare, from which they cannot awaken.  

So now they're sleeping again. And we're trying to regroup and rest, getting ready for whatever's next.  Thanks to everyone's thoughts and well wishes, and next time you see someone like that in your town, think about their reality, their exhaustion, and their family.