Category Archives: attitude

attitude

Another day…

It was a relatively boring weekend here at the ol’ homestead. Not that I’m complaining. We haven’t done boring around here in a long time. I wasn’t really sick(not that I was really well, either). There were no obligations. No serious drama. The only serious thing was a trip to AAA to end my mother’s insurance and put her car on our policy. This is something we should have done a month ago…but grief doesn’t like to help you be productive…in fact, it usually shuts down that part of your brain.

I won’t say that it was easy canceling my mother’s insurance. It was still heavy. But it wasn’t awful either and though I was tired, I was glad it was finally over with. But I did have a bit of a meltdown when I was alone after….I had intended to write since the hubby and the cute were out doing stuff, but I didn’t get to it. Instead, I had a conversation with my mother. A heated one, as most of them have turned out to be. I mourned… she didn’t say much. It was the usual.

But besides that? Nothing. I played games. I didn’t write. I don’t feel bad about that. I just let it be. And now, as the cute plays his coveted iPad…I will try to get something done. But if not…ok. I really like this laid back method. For so long guilt and self shaming have been my constant companions. Sometimes, I am floored by their absence. You mean I can just play a video game and read without  feeling bad? I can just take a weekend off without feeling like the worst mom in the world? It’s freeing on a level that defies words.

And I would usually be panicking by now…NO WORK IS FLOWING!? Have I lost it? Will I ever write or paint again? What is going to happen?! But it’s fine…I know I will write again…most likely as soon as I finish this blog post. And I will paint again because, hell, it’s fun.

My life is fun again!

Fun has been sorely missed around these here parts. It’s been a hot commodity. And now it’s coming in spades. I’m smiling more….crying less. I’m laughing. And my patience is increasing. Three months out and I’m already feeling more like myself. I hope that gives others hope if they are in the same place as me. Cause fun felt like a bad word in the beginning. It felt wrong to smile. I felt guilty for the fleeting moments of forgetfulness. Hell, I felt guilty for breathing. And now? I feel good. Not great. Not miraculous. Just good. But it’s slowing building up to real good. And even so, I’m still expecting some bad days again as well…that’s the winding road grief likes to take. Two steps forward. Three steps back. Four steps forward. One step back. But it’s going to be ok. And ok is totally worth waiting for.

My therapist and I finally got around to talking about grief this past week. We’ve touched on it before but to be honest, there was so much back story to get through…well, it just didn’t come up much. I was too overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings still lingering from 20 years ago. I was lost in sea of unexpected emotions. I needed to sort those out first before I could actually deal with my mom’s death. And to be honest, I hadn’t really even felt her absence yet. It still just felt like an extended break. But now it’s getting real. She’s gone and I’m trying to move on. I’m sure it will take a few months or even a couple years to get back to perfect….actually to get to a place I’ve never been before. But like all the great struggles in my life…it’s a road worth taking. I will be better for it. So I’m going to keep talking about it. Keep facing it. And hopefully, the other side of grief will be life without any self imposed limits…any guilt. Hopefully.

So this all may not be worth a blog post…it’s just bits and pieces of the same…but I figure that’s a good thing right now. Boring is nice. Calm is good. Average is a step in the right direction.

Now on to working more on my novel…

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Enough

My family is crazy. It's no wonder I have problems.


Today I had an angry, confused mother who thought she was going home and was mad that

a. it wasn't true,

b. her coffee was cold (my drive is 40 minutes and she likes the coffee & pastry from a place near me), and

c. I talk too much( I'd spoken less than ten words at that point).

All of which seemed out of my control and she was damn rude about it.


Of course she's in pain.

Of course it sucks that she's in the hospital.

But it's no excuse for taking it out on the person who is trying to be there for you. And I told her so. I also told her that if she kept it up, I would leave. She shut up. And then we did our best to work around the elephant in the room that is our failedrelationship.


She wanted a hug. I could tell. But she's a cactus. And she doesn't know what she needs or wants.

Kind of like the daughter she raised.


I feel bad for her. And I feel bad for me. I know for a fact that she will die and there will be guilt. Hers will be over. Mine will live on. It's frustrating. It's life with a narcissist. Not the cute version. The one in the DSM.


I also dealt with my aunt, secondhand, as she loses her mind over someday losing her sister.

Blame the drugs.

Blame the daughter.

Blame the doctors….

Just don't blame yourself and don't just accept.

It's all so very depressing and maddening.


And here's me…just trying not to get hit by the aimless bullets. Living to assuage the guilt firmly seated on my shoulders.


When I was six, my mother turned to me while we drove down the street…

Honey, if I fell dead on the steering wheel, what would you do?”

And then as I started crying, she explained how to grab the wheel and shove her lifeless body over so that I could hit the peddles.

My mother…such the planner.


I can't tell you the first time my father told me that I was killing my mother if I didn't do the dishes…I think it was around the same time. Her heart has always been a problem. Except when it wasn't. Like when she wanted to do something.


Today, as always, I live in constant fear. Of death. Of life. Of doing things wrong.

Today I told my mother to stop being rude to me. It felt good to deal with her. To not allow my guilt to wait until I explode. Italked to her like The Cute. And it worked. She shut the fuck up. I wish I could go back and high five that six year old and tell her….look…don't worry…she's going to live till 71.

It's a ruse.

You were and are perfect.

You love them…that's enough.
You are enough.

Thank you for the coffee, pastry, and the time, cause she'll never say it.

I love you.

A new beginning

 

My mother broke her hip.

 

It's been that kind of month. My mother is 71 with an attitude. Just that…a tude. And we haven't really been the best of friends in the past 18 years…since she and my dad divorced. After he beat me up and left me on the side of the road on the way to college…

 

It was the culmination of 20 years of mental abuse. That had threatened on many occasions to get physical. It might have been better if it had…it would have been more black and white. As it was then, and now, it was grey. Always in my life. Shades of grey. Sometimes I embrace them. Sometimes I hate them. This is one of those times that is both.

I love my mother. But she was a big enabler. A big part of the problem and not so very unlike my father…just less so. And so my feelings at the end of her life are mixed. I've tried to get us to go to therapy together. Nope.

I've tried to talk to her about how she treats and talks to me.

Nope.

So it just is what it is. Grey.

And so are my thoughts lately. I love my mother. I hate her being hurt. I've put my all into the past few weeks helping and stressing myself out. I hurt. My family is now sick with the flu. And I've had a giant chip on my shoulder about the whole thing. Maybe because of all she represents. Maybe because all the drama,one year to the date of the last hospitalization, has brought out the grey in eveything and everyone I love.

Friends. And husband. And life…all shaded in grey. I want to love my life and all it encompasses. But I don't right now. I should. But I don't. And I know I'm a big part of the problem. And I can't just run away from that. I've spent the last couple of weeks hating myself. For my choices. For my needs. For my feelings. For everything. But I can't do that. It just brings everything to a grinding halt. Hence the no blogging.

I know what I want. I think.

I want to love myself. I have to…for my sake, my life's sake, my child's sake.

I want purpose. I can definitely change that. Find that. If I stop the panicking.

I want beauty and romance. And that I can do for myself…want to do for my child.

I want adventure. And that is a matter of opinion. One I need to change for the sake of my child.

I want someone who cares deeply for me. Someone willing to upend their life for me. I want a village. I want to cherish and be cherished. But the truth is that I'm kinda broken. Was from the beginning (see forementioned abuse) and so I don't think I'm wired to choose that kind of life. Some parts of me don't like me very much and don't think I'm worthy of it despite hours of therapy. Some parts don't like to gamble cause the people who were supposed to be a given weren't. So I went with the easy and the aloof. And so that's what I get. And that's not to say that those people in my life aren't a thousand shades of wonderful in their own way….it's just not what I dreamed of. And truthfully, I think that's the epic search all abused children make. They want desperately for that unconditional love they never had; that they were supposed to have. That relationship so sacred between parents and children. And my chance came and went…against my will but it didn't break me and so that's something. I made it this far and I don't seem to be passing it on to my little one. And I am making sure it won't. But for me, I have to stop this endless searching. This needing. And let go. Grieve and let go.

And so I need an attitude adjustment.

Some things I've chosen are permanent and so I need to readjust my way of thinking. Others are changeable…and so I'm going to change them.

But the bottom line is…I need to stop wallowing. It's not just my life anymore. My child is watching and learning and it's not fair for my life to interfere with his. And maybe someday, he will be in this same place. I need to help him make his way back to happy. And so I need to make my way back to happy.

So I know the map.

So this is a new beginning. For the blog. And for my mind. I am worthy of being perfectly happy…and it's time to find a way to there. On my own (in my mind), at first and then when I'm full up then maybe I'll learn to lean again. But I hope to get myself to at least write every other day or maybe every day with my journey to my new happy. I deserve this.

Everyone does.