Birds gotta

There is a compulsion inherent in  Burt ‘s symptoms.

Erratic behavior and disorganized thought lead him into patterns.

• “I love you.”
• “You’re the worst. Well, look what you did to me.”

• “You nearly killed me there.”
• “You saved my life.”

We bounce back and forth between adulation and despair.

The hallucinations are so much a must-be that it brought us into a fascinating discussion the other day.

Burt told me that he thinks there wasn’t a fire and that it may have been in his mind. He asks for the word that describes when he sees people who aren’t there.

I assume he will now distinguish between his imaginary friends and lovers and the actual inhabitants of our world.

In that instance, I look forward to not being  questioned, “Who’s the guy? You sit right next to him. He’s here all the time.” Or “Come on, you know her. The girl who looks like you. What’s her name?”

Within minutes of his realization, he is engaging with that nameless guy.  Right after making his conclusion about hallucinating, he started talking about (and to) some guy and the other girl (who looks like me) in the apartment.

His brain is breaking, and he has these symptoms. He hallucinates. He repeats illogical stories in which my care for him is lifesaving or not. Time is not just not of the essence; it’s a complete mishmash. He has Capgras syndrome; not only are there multiple wives, but his OT no longer works alone, so now it’s “when are they coming?”

His awareness and insight that any of this might not make sense is fleeting. They were back. At first, just those two. I know there will be more. It was out of his control. He couldn’t help it.