Tag: family

The Accidental Kindness of Strangers

Published on by cmglife

Yesterday I backed into a car while attempting to get into a parking space.

I got out of my car and we looked at the damage. I had dented and cracked his bike rack. No damage to mine. The man wasn’t very nice and actually said, “You’re not going to skip out on this are you?” He stated this in several different ways several times. The nerve!

Side Note: I did not have a terrible reaction the way I used to when I did something wrong. My eyes only filled with tears and lips quivered. Almost, but not quite, my face began to crumple into “oh god I’m going to cry” phase. Honestly I’m not ashamed of any of that. I think that would be a normal reaction to an unpleasant situation.

While standing there trying to keep my calm, I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was the director of the event I was working. He asked if I was alright. He had such a genuine look of concern, a few more tears leaked out. He asked if I needed to go home he would understand. I said I would be alright and he gave me a hug.

On my way into the event someone else approached me to ask how I was and she gave me a hug.

Half way through the event a volunteer checked in to see if I needed anything and I got another hug.

When the event was over the director came by again and I thanked him . I said I couldn’t believe how kind everyone was and how much it meant to me that I wasn’t standing there in the middle of the street alone.

This maybe a bit dramatic, but it was human nature, as it could be and was that in that moment.

This accident was no accident. The more I think about it, to experience kindness and worth as a human being, well, was worth the deductible.

hi·a·tus

Published on by cmglife

A pause or gap in a sequence, series, or process.

I don’t want to write about my relationship with my oldest daughter again. Let’s just say that after 8 years it is the same. I see my two grandchildren about a couple of times a year.

It’s taken me three or four of the 5 years to make peace with it. It’s been tenacity, therapy, good friends, my son and ketamine that has enabled me to live with it.

Now my other daughter, the youngest, has caused me more stress and heart ache, because it has gone on for most of her life.

I can actually admit now that I have been emotionally abused by her. She is not a narcissist like my ex husband and my mother. I think she has borderline personality disorder. Since she is my child I hung in there through it all while dragging her to every kind of professional under the sun because she was clearly unhappy (which is what I thought).

Last year she began texting me and wanted to get together. I hadn’t heard from her in a year, not from lack of trying on my part. It was wonderful! It’s like this person was behaving in a way I had never experienced with her. She would come over for dinner about once a month and we watched Sherlock and Vampire movies…not sure how we got on that one, but it was fun and I could finally love her in a real way.

I’m not completely delusional. I was puzzled by this new and improved child. Maybe I was pushing away the probably end to it with screaming, yelling and unfounded accusations from her. I was a bit tentative giving too much of myself emotionally to the situation, but it was so lovely while it lasted.

First she cancelled Christmas with us. I hid how disappointed I really was “walking on eggshells” kind of thing. We had never spent Christmas apart. Fast forward to early May, that was the last time I saw her. I did get a “I’m fine” text in late July when I asked her if I should file a missing persons report. I texted her on and off since then. The usual things. Memes, videos of the cats, silly stories, etc.

Last Sunday I called my son to see if he had heard from her. He said no. A couple of hours later I got a text from him saying “I’m Alive”. So he had texted her, I don’t know the extent of the conversation, but I know he doesn’t have patience for the way she treats us.

Another hour went by and I got a text from her “I’ve blocked you”.

This caused a familiar reaction. I had been blocked by my sister and my oldest daughter during the hardest time of my life when I divorced my husband. The reaction was that horrible pain in my chest followed by uncontrollable sobbing. This time though I got myself together within minutes instead of 30 which it usually takes.

I rummaged around in my head to figure out how I was feeling. This was new. How did I feel? I went to bed. The next morning rummaged some more trying to pinpoint this strange non-reaction.

Before I left for work I wrote on the back of an envelope “this could be a good thing because now I don’t have to worry about her and take all the abuse”.

By the time I got to work I felt so strong and relived about another rejection from another daughter. Finally I could say “NO” to this, That feeling lasted all day.

I saw my therapist that afternoon and she could see the difference in my reaction. She has always given me advice that makes me feel either real with the way I process things or gives me clues as to how I can see it differently. She was really positive and then she slipped in something like “While you are taking this hiatus from her it will be good to….” can’t remember the rest.

I was disappointed that she had said “while”. Just her saying it broke that wall down a little bit knowing that it is just a matter of time that I won’t be able to keep up this persona. It’s not me, I’m her mother.

I’m not thinking about it now though. I figure if she needs anything she can go to her brother, sister or dad. I’m checked out for now. I may just block her. That would feel so good until I unblock her 10 minutes later.

Revised definition: hi·a·tus: A pause or gap of emotional reactions to my estranged daughters.

Crying it out.

Published on by cmglife

I did “Last the day”.

I talked with my dr and he said there is nothing in my medicines or withdrawal off antidepressants that would cause this depression or crying.

“I’m not diminishing your pain,” he said, “but often you have a hard time coping”.

Normally I would have been insulted or felt unheard, but I had already thought of something close to that myself.

Could these tears be grief?

Maybe I just need to cry it all out like I’ve done before.

When I was little I cried for weeks when we moved, when friends moved. Cried for two weeks when I had to put down my dogs, my daughter moved to Wisconsin, my mom died, etc.

Most recently my divorce, the other woman, ostracized by my sister and kept from my grandchildren.

Maybe what I am misinterpreting as depression is actually grief . Maybe this is the way other people handle their emotional pain and I used to because I recognized the event.

So I’m giving it a go. I’ll be crying my eyes out and not questioning it. Sounds like utter hell, I’ll just release the sadness and cry until the tears stop.

I’m all about a plan.

Rock Bottom, Hit

Published on by cmglife

Have you ever been so sad that you can’t move?  Feeling so depressed and rejected that even moving your face to cry is impossible?  Tears just roll down your cheeks? Chest unable to heave?

The feeling of unimportance finally proven to be true?  That all along fighting the thoughts of being unlovable were in vain?

All of those coping skills learned, all of the meds, all of the triumphs to succeed in life against incredible odds fail?

The betrayal so overwhelming and complete that your broken heart can’t move you?

The only way to tell these feelings is in a blog, because telling anyone else just makes you look more pathetic than you already feel?

This is the place I usually insert the last line of hope or whit not to worry anyone that I might finally crack.

This morning sitting comatose on my couch for the first time in my life might just be a step closer.

 

 

 

Is this rock bottom? Nope, not yet.

Published on by cmglife

Time for some honesty.  My life has been hell for the last two years.  It wasn’t that great before divorce, but never like this.

My oldest daughter and I used to be so close, but since the divorce, it has changed.  She doesn’t text back, return phone calls or emails.  There are plenty of ideas going around that have nothing to do with me, but the evidence is irrefutable, it’s me.

My youngest daughter, who came out to me last summer, is transgender.  I’ve been coping, adjusting and trying to understand.  He’s moved in with his dad (and woman he was cheating on me with) last month and has cut off all contact with me.  If you will remember, his dad is a raging narcissist and still will not stop tormenting me.  I suspect Caleb is a border line.  Might as well throw that in to my family; border line, bipolar, narcissist….I’m surprised any of my children are functioning.

I have also be cut off by my beloved sister.  I guess mental illness and the drama of my marriage, divorce, transgender child was just too much for her.  I’ve sucked her dry.

My therapist is actually just trying to keep the boat afloat.  Trying to give me ways to cope, because facts are facts, all this shit is happening and I can barely come up for air before some other event occurs.

I had to call 911 on Caleb before he moved into his Dad’s because he threw a tantrum and was destroying my bedroom and bathroom.  Glass was everywhere and due to his mental health I was afraid for him.  No one from my family has asked me, what happened and how I am.  I am totally shut out.

What the hell is going on?  I am alone.  I’m supposed to be depending on my friends according to my therapist, but I’m not there yet.  It’s not the same.  I’ve never lived alone.  As with most mothers, my family has been a huge part of who I am and now they are all gone.

I’m sure it looks bad for me.  I must have done something.  I must be something to drive everyone away.  The only thing I am is … well the only thing I think I am is unimportant and not worth the effort.

I feel like shit right now.  I feel like shit everyday.  I’ll make it though and eventually get to enjoy my life.  I’ve been telling myself that for 52 years.

 

Another One of Those First World Problems

Published on by cmglife

I feel complaining about insignificant things and labeling them “FWP” exonerates me from being a whiny spoiled person living in the best place in the world.  I’m also a jaded ex-catholic, so there is already a layer of guilt underneath everything I say and do.  

I want to post this for another reason.  With the hell I’ve been going through for the past year from medication side effects, divorce, being ostracized by my children and doing all of this in a delicate mental condition, I welcome superficial trivial problems. 

Here is one now:

Well, so far this is a very good day! I colored my hair this week from an online hair color boasting it is just like the professional color. I don’t know why I bother. The brown of my hair turned out beautifully but the white came out a light brownish reddish. Anyway……I used the last of my root concealer two days ago (forgot all about covering my roots on Tuesday and was out doing errands for four hours). Luckily I wasn’t aware so had all of the confidence of a good looking person. Back to my roots (pardon the pun) I was even debating wearing one of Allison’s hats to hit the Walgreens early before too many people were there to get a new can of concealer. In the bathroom I took one more last ditch effort, fingers crossed, to look in the bathroom closet.  There it was buried under cold medicine…..half a can!!!  Halejuha!

Dear Life:  please keep bringing on those kind of problems.  I really need a break.  xoxo

Terminal Diagnosis

Published on by cmglife2 Comments

My mom was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer today and I want to rewind time to last Saturday when life was trivial.

We have had rocky times especially in the last fifteen years or so.  When I talk to her now in between her dementia and pain she is the sweet, funny, smart mother that she often wasn’t.  I am grateful that I can at least get that mother now.  Of course, that is what makes it even more poignant.

All that wasted time.

Stunned

Published on by cmglife

When I talk to my dad it feels like he is trying to protect me from the truth. I know he knows what it may be, but says it’s not smart to speculate, so he doesn’t tell me. He must understand how impossible it is for the human brain not to speculate when only given bits and pieces of information, not enough to form a complete picture. I know he is speculating, against his will, but he is speculating.

We were supposed to know last Tuesday and then on Thursday. All I have to rely on are quick cryptic text messages from my dad as the information trickles in from the medical professionals. In the meantime we are all looking up symptoms on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic website. Speculating.

Friday she ended up in the hospital, but was released and is now convalescing on my dad’s couch.

Monday. That is the day the labs come back.

Scared? Sad? My head is spinning, maybe I am just stunned. My mother used to be as strong as a horse physically. I never thought of her as old. My dad said he used to refer to her as an ant, carrying more than her body weight. Now she is so small and thin. Her hair is snow white and her skin is almost see through.

Our relationship has always been quite on and off. I had an old post that said how much it hurt when she stopped sending me birthday cards, but lately she has been trying so, of course, I welcomed her back with open arms.

I’m afraid she may have waited too long to come back and now she’ll be gone again.

Average Day

Published on by cmglife

Pretty average day today.

My new “Four Day Diet” book arrived in the mail. I started to read it, then skimmed through the fluff and got right down to the diet menus. I was typing out a shopping list, but couldn’t read the computer with my reading glasses on and couldn’t read the book without the readers! Tried to wear them halfway down my nose, but then I couldn’t breath. Taking them on and off again was pulling my hair. It took me at least half an hour longer to do this task than it should have (similar to telling this story).

Allison is sick today so I kept her company by watching “Pretty Little Liars” with her. Not that watching it wasn’t bad enough, she kept pausing the show every few minutes to explain the characters and plot to me.

Went to the grocery store and put three yogurts into a strange man’s basket even though he was saying, “Excuse, me. Excuse, me!”

I finally looked up and saw it was not my husband after all, just a doppelganger (bet you don’t know the last time you’ve used that term).

Got home, unloaded the car and dropped a jar of Ragu in the driveway.

Yeah, that’s about it.

Lovely Children

Published on by cmglife

My son, unfortunately, falls into the category of being “unintuitive”. He is sensitive, but things have to be pointed out to him. There is nothing wrong with it as long as the female in his life doesn’t mind either.

When my friend died last week it hit me pretty hard. After visiting her and her family that day I came home and holed up in my room with some wine and my phone. I was feeling a little sorry for myself because Emily and my sister Ellen weren’t there. They are always there for me, but they weren’t physically there and I really could have used them. I told Emily on the phone that I really needed a hug.

I didn’t realize until I heard a text buzz that Tristan was charging his phone in my room. I instinctively looked over and read that it was from Emily. She wrote “go in and give mom a hug, she really needs one”.

Just then, Tristan came in and got his phone. I wondered how long it would take him to come back after reading his texts.

Ten minutes went by when Tristan knocked. He came in and sat in bed with me. He asked me to tell him what happened that day. I told him everything. He held my hand and then gave me a hug.

I hope I’ve always given them what they needed the way they just gave me what I needed.