Yesterday, as the FIRST of the two twenty pound turkeys was cooking, and I was doing some last minute cleaning and rearranging, I was fairly certain that I wasn't going to make it this year. I wasn't concerned about the preparations. I've been hostessing the BIG family Thanksgiving celebration since we moved to this home twelve years ago. I was bothered, and a little surprised, by my emotional state. If I would have had the time, I think I may have indulged in a good pity cry.
Things have been hitting me sideways, with melancholy thoughts of O.S. and D.I.L.ly. As I readied the Christmas Tree in our Library, a heaviness began settling on my heart. I top this tree with a wooden star that O.S. created one Christmas time about 10 years ago. I had been grumbling about not having an appropriate tree topper. I'd tried bows, angels, lighted aluminum stars, but nothing ever worked to MY satisfaction. O.S. disappeared into our shop, and emerged later with the gift. It's a wonderful thing. It's five points are perfect. The shaft is hand tooled and fits perfectly over the highest artificial branch. O.S. stained it a distressed gold. I keep it out all year long. It perches on a bookshelf until called into service as the crowning glory on the most traditional evergreen.
Since I notice it often, and admire it regularly, I was startled by the sadness that griped by heart as I placed it this year. I never, never think of O.S. apart from D.I.L.ly. They have been friends and then more for most of the years of their youth and young adulthood. I know that to be without her would injure my son in all the ways that could never be made well again. And yet, unbidden, the fantasy came with crystal clarity. I am adept at turning my mind from unpleasant thoughts and inappropriate, harmful ruminations, but this one ran it's course. O.S. came home alone, and broken, but not destroyed...and I felt happy.
I saw him as he always was. Sad but intact. I saw his melancholy smile, I felt his hug, mine matched the tears in his eyes. A wash of HOPE poured over me. And I've been undone ever since. I'm ashamed that I value my joy over D.I.L.ly's, although I despair that love is beyond her understanding. I'm wary of feeling an emotion for a scenario that I'd never imagined before, let alone entertained. A scenario that I'm convinced will never play out. And yet, this is the one, above all others that I long for.
I don't wish D.I.L.ly ill. She's deeply troubled, damaged in a fundamental, unreachable area of her mind and heart. If anyone can reach her, save her, it is O.S. A large portion of my motivation in separating from, and distancing myself was to protect O.S. from ever having to choose between his wife and his mother. Tall One and I worked to instill the importance of connubial commitment. We value that attribute, and have striven to exemplify it in our own marriage.
So, I am sad. Sad to know that hope has been stirred. Sad to realize I'm not the realist I strive to be, but more the emotional, needy sot that I've expected all along.
And, today, Happy Thanksgiving, will bring challenges I'm not up to. I've no more strength to comfort or cajole. I wonder about my resources to remain civil. My sister-in-law, I imagine is facing similar trials. Her son, my favorite nephew, was arrested for an offense that we wish was drug related, it's that much worse. And, actually, the thoughts of her difficulties, her dilemma in dealing with family en mass, is the only calming, strengthen, motivating factor in my involuntary resolve to stay and not flee to a little known tropical island and begin drowning all memories in copious amounts of adult beverages.
So, my goals for this most festive of holiday seasons will be:
1). To not offend my mother's limited emotional resources. I WILL NOT tell her to "fuck off"...no matter how many times I have to stifle the impulse. It's like a poison ivy itch...It would only feel good for a moment, and then I risk infection.
2). Not to alienate further, my already emotionally stunted mother-in-law. It's not her fault. She tries her best. She's just hopelessly mired in her desire to present a socially pleasing fiction. I will stifle my overwhelming urge to yell, "get a clue"! It's too late, she wouldn't understand. There would be no satisfaction. I'd look like a lunatic.
3). To concentrate on the good stuff, the fine things, the circumstances that will buoy my dwindling reserves...and when I start to "count my blessings", I am encouraged. I CAN do this. I WILL survive...
Happy fucking Thanksgiving...I'm eating two desserts....
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Near Death Experience
I can't sleep. This doesn't happen often, and it's probably hormonal, not stress related, but my mind's racing and I had this "experience" I need to document....
I don't write about Nana. At least not publicly. I'm a wuss, of grand proportion. I'm afraid she'll find out.
The other day, after eating breakfast, on our way to the grocery store, Nana looks at me and asks, "Do you think I'm a positive person?"
I am a deer in the headlights of a speeding eighteen wheeler....and the road's wet and the brakes are out...
"No, you are the most negative person I know. You hate blacks, Jews and men. You hate all of your neighbors, especially the ones you've never met. You've hated every job you ever had. You hate your daughter-in-law and her children from her first marriage. You think your youngest son is an idiot. And, even though you coerced and shamed him into calling you once a week you use that time to criticise and fight with him and then complain to me. You hate football, basketball, and baseball even though you watch the games. You think your oldest son, the one who lived with you for seventeen years as an adult, and would do anything for you, is a waste. You used to talk to me everyday on the phone, crying about how he was going to drive you insane, you couldn't live with him anymore. When he comes to visit you now, you criticise him for everything, even for using your bathroom too many times. He talks to you everyday on the phone, and his conversation annoys you.You bring up others' perceived shortcomings over and over again. Even your "best" friends have "no sense". You don't like my husband, you don't even acknowledge him except with veiled criticism. You have accused us of emotionally abusing our son. Most of the time you don't recognize that I AM a mother of grown children. You treat me like a mentally challenged adolescent. You accuse my daughter of taking advantage of me. You criticise my grandsons' HAIR! Your condo is noisy, where you lived before, being driven insane, no one was allowed to breath, apparently before 9am or after 5pm. Here, apparently, "anything goes". Your next door neighbor, whom you've never met or talked to is a whore. I have to sit with you on the 4th of July, because the fireworks scare your cat. You tell me you can't die before your cat because no one can take care of her like you can. Be that as it may, she is a CAT. But, you used to have 12 of them. And, they couldn't do anything right either. You're lonely, but you don't want company. When people come to see you, they stay too long, talk too loudly, have opinions that you don't agree with, or don't show proper appreciation for your hospitality. It's always too warm or too cold. You can't see anything out of your windows. The borough doesn't take proper care of the roads. The little league teams, and the peewee football teams that play and practice outside your home on improperly prepared fields, are "pigs". So are Hispanic people. So are the people we see at the grocery store. So is the UPS man because he doesn't put your package where you want him to on your porch. So is anyone that doesn't do everything exactly the way you think they should. You hate the Channel 8 News Team, especially the weather man. You take offense for imaginary slights of sports figures by their coaches and managers, and celebrities by their fans and the paparazzi. I can't get out of your way fast enough, even though you use a walker. I screw up the grocery list. I don't open packages of cereal properly. I don't sit still long enough. I'm not allowed to do anything else while I'm talking to you on the phone...BUT I DO, and then I lie about it. I spend a disproportionate amount of time trying to figure out what to tell you and what to say so as not to upset you or cause a negative reaction. I fail miserably 100% of the time. You never remarried after Dad died because you didn't want to give my brother and me a step father....we were 13 and 16, we would've been grown by the time you dated, fell in love, became engaged and married. You tell us that we children are your life....you hold it over our heads like a sledge hammer. You obsess over minor details of which you have no control. And then your day, week, month, year, life is ruined when someone or something deviates from your expected plan. You have always been this way, it has nothing to do with your age."
I gather my wits and what I actually say is, "I sometimes worry that you're not happy."
Nana ignores me and continues, " T. said that I amaze her with my positive attitude."
"Yes, Mom, I think people can see that in you."
I don't write about Nana. At least not publicly. I'm a wuss, of grand proportion. I'm afraid she'll find out.
The other day, after eating breakfast, on our way to the grocery store, Nana looks at me and asks, "Do you think I'm a positive person?"
I am a deer in the headlights of a speeding eighteen wheeler....and the road's wet and the brakes are out...
"No, you are the most negative person I know. You hate blacks, Jews and men. You hate all of your neighbors, especially the ones you've never met. You've hated every job you ever had. You hate your daughter-in-law and her children from her first marriage. You think your youngest son is an idiot. And, even though you coerced and shamed him into calling you once a week you use that time to criticise and fight with him and then complain to me. You hate football, basketball, and baseball even though you watch the games. You think your oldest son, the one who lived with you for seventeen years as an adult, and would do anything for you, is a waste. You used to talk to me everyday on the phone, crying about how he was going to drive you insane, you couldn't live with him anymore. When he comes to visit you now, you criticise him for everything, even for using your bathroom too many times. He talks to you everyday on the phone, and his conversation annoys you.You bring up others' perceived shortcomings over and over again. Even your "best" friends have "no sense". You don't like my husband, you don't even acknowledge him except with veiled criticism. You have accused us of emotionally abusing our son. Most of the time you don't recognize that I AM a mother of grown children. You treat me like a mentally challenged adolescent. You accuse my daughter of taking advantage of me. You criticise my grandsons' HAIR! Your condo is noisy, where you lived before, being driven insane, no one was allowed to breath, apparently before 9am or after 5pm. Here, apparently, "anything goes". Your next door neighbor, whom you've never met or talked to is a whore. I have to sit with you on the 4th of July, because the fireworks scare your cat. You tell me you can't die before your cat because no one can take care of her like you can. Be that as it may, she is a CAT. But, you used to have 12 of them. And, they couldn't do anything right either. You're lonely, but you don't want company. When people come to see you, they stay too long, talk too loudly, have opinions that you don't agree with, or don't show proper appreciation for your hospitality. It's always too warm or too cold. You can't see anything out of your windows. The borough doesn't take proper care of the roads. The little league teams, and the peewee football teams that play and practice outside your home on improperly prepared fields, are "pigs". So are Hispanic people. So are the people we see at the grocery store. So is the UPS man because he doesn't put your package where you want him to on your porch. So is anyone that doesn't do everything exactly the way you think they should. You hate the Channel 8 News Team, especially the weather man. You take offense for imaginary slights of sports figures by their coaches and managers, and celebrities by their fans and the paparazzi. I can't get out of your way fast enough, even though you use a walker. I screw up the grocery list. I don't open packages of cereal properly. I don't sit still long enough. I'm not allowed to do anything else while I'm talking to you on the phone...BUT I DO, and then I lie about it. I spend a disproportionate amount of time trying to figure out what to tell you and what to say so as not to upset you or cause a negative reaction. I fail miserably 100% of the time. You never remarried after Dad died because you didn't want to give my brother and me a step father....we were 13 and 16, we would've been grown by the time you dated, fell in love, became engaged and married. You tell us that we children are your life....you hold it over our heads like a sledge hammer. You obsess over minor details of which you have no control. And then your day, week, month, year, life is ruined when someone or something deviates from your expected plan. You have always been this way, it has nothing to do with your age."
I gather my wits and what I actually say is, "I sometimes worry that you're not happy."
Nana ignores me and continues, " T. said that I amaze her with my positive attitude."
"Yes, Mom, I think people can see that in you."
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Economic stress
Hurray, we have a new grand Glorious Leader to usher us into an economic crisis of grand proportions. Our promised tax cuts will never materialize, but the news media tells me that I'm ok with that. We're all willing to sacrifice.
And, frankly, I'm not worried on a global level. We've been through lean times, relying on thrift and creativity. Materially, we may have more to lose than we did three decades ago, but I'm not overly emotionally attached to our belongings. I can always take pictures if I need the memories...and then promptly download them from the camera and forever forget about them...I'm not particularly sentimental.
But, Tall One is thinking ahead, and the possibility that I become gainfully employed looms large in his conscience. I'm not opposed to this. There are alot of things I can do. I just want to make sure this is a necessary step. I've started and stopped so many things, and they've all been legitimate. I worked in insurance before we were married and for a short time after. I clerked at Tall One's family's deli counter. I had a part time mall job to pay for groceries that lasted about six weeks when the kids were small and we were really just starting the business. I babysat full time for maybe a year and then part time for another year when our sons were in kindergarten. That was brutally hard to quit. I felt as if I was leaving everyone down, including myself. I've become motivated to, and then unmotivated, take a bigger part in the business. I've done sewing alterations, made dolls, and worked twelve years as a personal assistant to Wheeler. But, Wheeler was hit-and-miss in the financial remuneration department. I went back to work for Wheeler - for real documented money - to pay for Daughter's wedding. I've been more than ok with all of this.
The "problem" is...I always come home. I think it's where I'm best. It seems as if it's where I'm the most profitable. I love being available. I think that's my gift. I just don't know.
If I go back to work for Wheeler, how long will it last? I can start, but can I stop again? It would be the most convenient, practical solution to earning a little (and it would be little) extra. He's part of the family. The situation would mostly flow. But, do I have the energy for the long haul? I can barely answer his occasional emergency call in the night...something I used to do automatically. And, if I need more hours, more money, and need to get something that pays more and provides a full time position, or if I just can't physically hack it, that would leave him in a situation that we've found ourselves in before, and it's more than just inconvenient. It's an unfair loss- on many levels - for us, both.
Should I search out something full-time? That would necessitate a life-style reorientation for not only me, but, Tall One, Daughter and grandsons, and Nana. I would be much less "available". I think the ramifications would be more profound than we anticipate. Which is ok, but is it expedient? Can I gain enough financially to make the alternatives worthwhile. I'd lose time with my grandsons and daughter. I would miss that, so would they. I would be more tired, sick and lethargic than I already am. Tall One would take up the slack, but he shouldn't have to, and again, is it worth the price? And Nana would be "more independent" once again. The stress of reassuring her would double, something I struggle with already and only manage with the support of Daughter, and Tall One, and they would be less able to compensate.
I would not have a fulfilling career in any endeavor other than Wheeler. I would have a job. Something I would do well, but certainly not passionately, and I am passionate about my day-to-day drudgery right now.
What to do? What to do?
I'll probably sit on it for the weekend. Wheeler is my first choice. But I want to be fair. To everyone. I need a crystal ball...
And, frankly, I'm not worried on a global level. We've been through lean times, relying on thrift and creativity. Materially, we may have more to lose than we did three decades ago, but I'm not overly emotionally attached to our belongings. I can always take pictures if I need the memories...and then promptly download them from the camera and forever forget about them...I'm not particularly sentimental.
But, Tall One is thinking ahead, and the possibility that I become gainfully employed looms large in his conscience. I'm not opposed to this. There are alot of things I can do. I just want to make sure this is a necessary step. I've started and stopped so many things, and they've all been legitimate. I worked in insurance before we were married and for a short time after. I clerked at Tall One's family's deli counter. I had a part time mall job to pay for groceries that lasted about six weeks when the kids were small and we were really just starting the business. I babysat full time for maybe a year and then part time for another year when our sons were in kindergarten. That was brutally hard to quit. I felt as if I was leaving everyone down, including myself. I've become motivated to, and then unmotivated, take a bigger part in the business. I've done sewing alterations, made dolls, and worked twelve years as a personal assistant to Wheeler. But, Wheeler was hit-and-miss in the financial remuneration department. I went back to work for Wheeler - for real documented money - to pay for Daughter's wedding. I've been more than ok with all of this.
The "problem" is...I always come home. I think it's where I'm best. It seems as if it's where I'm the most profitable. I love being available. I think that's my gift. I just don't know.
If I go back to work for Wheeler, how long will it last? I can start, but can I stop again? It would be the most convenient, practical solution to earning a little (and it would be little) extra. He's part of the family. The situation would mostly flow. But, do I have the energy for the long haul? I can barely answer his occasional emergency call in the night...something I used to do automatically. And, if I need more hours, more money, and need to get something that pays more and provides a full time position, or if I just can't physically hack it, that would leave him in a situation that we've found ourselves in before, and it's more than just inconvenient. It's an unfair loss- on many levels - for us, both.
Should I search out something full-time? That would necessitate a life-style reorientation for not only me, but, Tall One, Daughter and grandsons, and Nana. I would be much less "available". I think the ramifications would be more profound than we anticipate. Which is ok, but is it expedient? Can I gain enough financially to make the alternatives worthwhile. I'd lose time with my grandsons and daughter. I would miss that, so would they. I would be more tired, sick and lethargic than I already am. Tall One would take up the slack, but he shouldn't have to, and again, is it worth the price? And Nana would be "more independent" once again. The stress of reassuring her would double, something I struggle with already and only manage with the support of Daughter, and Tall One, and they would be less able to compensate.
I would not have a fulfilling career in any endeavor other than Wheeler. I would have a job. Something I would do well, but certainly not passionately, and I am passionate about my day-to-day drudgery right now.
What to do? What to do?
I'll probably sit on it for the weekend. Wheeler is my first choice. But I want to be fair. To everyone. I need a crystal ball...
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Semantics.
Let's talk semantics. I've been pondering a few grievous misconceptions in our "estrangement scenario", but, I think they also apply politically, and perhaps globally. I think many people may get into "trouble" by "misunderstanding".
When we first became aware of serious problems between ourselves and D.I.L.ly, we often heard the mantra, "My family is different." Our son took pains to explain this in simple language, speaking slowly, and clearly, so that we could perhaps absorb it into our thickened, warped minds, "D.I.L.ly's...family...is...different." I took this to mean that there were some aspects of our familial interaction that were unfamiliar or even uncomfortable for D.I.L.ly and that these were issues we could work on, compromise in, and come to understand and accept. I found this a bit disturbing, because, D.I.L.ly had been intimately familiar with our family and how it functioned for nigh on 10 years at this point, but, hey, this seemed a reasonable "demand". We should certainly work out a comfortable way to socially interact.
I have come to realize that "different" does not mean "not alike in character or quality" or even "not ordinary; unusual". In the universal language of D.I.L.ly, different means "wrong". There is no amount of familiarity, understanding or compromise that will change D.I.L.ly's perception of our family as "wrong". There can be no acceptance. WE must change, conform, acquiesce, and surrender.
This understanding on a small personal level has helped me to apply this misunderstanding in a much larger format. Be it race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, appearance...different is just different. NOT wrong. Wrong is Wrong. And there is much that is. But, not just being different.
There is also the question of "equal". "In my family everyone was treated equally", D.I.L.ly told us. Again, I pondered this. Because my daughter and I have a good, close, supportive relationship and because we spend lots of time together was I inflicting D.I.L.ly with the same expectations? Or, was I short changing my sons by not spending most days with them or calling more frequently or confiding, or shopping? Should I be buying my childless offspring and their spouses diapers, or the equivalent?
No, D.I.L.ly didn't want me to spend more time with her. She wanted me to spend less with my daughter so things would be equal. It would truly be creepy to have the same kind of relationship with my sons, so I wasn't to have the relationship I do with my daughter. I wasn't to buy diapers for my grandsons because my other children don't have children, and this isn't equal.
"Equal" is not the same as "fair". And I have always treated my children fairly. They all have different needs, different desires, different wants, and I've tried to meet those expectations. Do I always succeed? Of course not. But I always try.
Would it be fair to sacrifice my relationship with my daughter and her children for the appearance of equality. NO. Would it be fair to inflict D.I.L.ly and my son with my presence when they have always been much more self contained and assertive with their "independence" and "need for privacy". NO. I'm not convinced, no, I'm opposed to bowing to the lowest common relational denominator. I want to provide what my family needs, what's fair, not what's equal.
One of my children needed more help with homework, should I have inflicted the two that didn't with my interference? Or should I have let the one flounder because the others moved ahead? Two of my children went to college. We helped. The other needed space, physical space, in our yard and garage and we provided, gave, encouraged that, probably at more of an expense than a formal education. None of this is "equal", but it is all fair. It is all profitable. It is all love.
There is a global application here, too. We aren't all equal. We can't be treated equally. We can be recognized as individuals with separate abilities, needs, goals, and personalities. We can strive for fairness, we won't always succeed. We mustn't settle for the lowest common denominator, and sacrifice the stellar possibilities.
When we first became aware of serious problems between ourselves and D.I.L.ly, we often heard the mantra, "My family is different." Our son took pains to explain this in simple language, speaking slowly, and clearly, so that we could perhaps absorb it into our thickened, warped minds, "D.I.L.ly's...family...is...different." I took this to mean that there were some aspects of our familial interaction that were unfamiliar or even uncomfortable for D.I.L.ly and that these were issues we could work on, compromise in, and come to understand and accept. I found this a bit disturbing, because, D.I.L.ly had been intimately familiar with our family and how it functioned for nigh on 10 years at this point, but, hey, this seemed a reasonable "demand". We should certainly work out a comfortable way to socially interact.
I have come to realize that "different" does not mean "not alike in character or quality" or even "not ordinary; unusual". In the universal language of D.I.L.ly, different means "wrong". There is no amount of familiarity, understanding or compromise that will change D.I.L.ly's perception of our family as "wrong". There can be no acceptance. WE must change, conform, acquiesce, and surrender.
This understanding on a small personal level has helped me to apply this misunderstanding in a much larger format. Be it race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, appearance...different is just different. NOT wrong. Wrong is Wrong. And there is much that is. But, not just being different.
There is also the question of "equal". "In my family everyone was treated equally", D.I.L.ly told us. Again, I pondered this. Because my daughter and I have a good, close, supportive relationship and because we spend lots of time together was I inflicting D.I.L.ly with the same expectations? Or, was I short changing my sons by not spending most days with them or calling more frequently or confiding, or shopping? Should I be buying my childless offspring and their spouses diapers, or the equivalent?
No, D.I.L.ly didn't want me to spend more time with her. She wanted me to spend less with my daughter so things would be equal. It would truly be creepy to have the same kind of relationship with my sons, so I wasn't to have the relationship I do with my daughter. I wasn't to buy diapers for my grandsons because my other children don't have children, and this isn't equal.
"Equal" is not the same as "fair". And I have always treated my children fairly. They all have different needs, different desires, different wants, and I've tried to meet those expectations. Do I always succeed? Of course not. But I always try.
Would it be fair to sacrifice my relationship with my daughter and her children for the appearance of equality. NO. Would it be fair to inflict D.I.L.ly and my son with my presence when they have always been much more self contained and assertive with their "independence" and "need for privacy". NO. I'm not convinced, no, I'm opposed to bowing to the lowest common relational denominator. I want to provide what my family needs, what's fair, not what's equal.
One of my children needed more help with homework, should I have inflicted the two that didn't with my interference? Or should I have let the one flounder because the others moved ahead? Two of my children went to college. We helped. The other needed space, physical space, in our yard and garage and we provided, gave, encouraged that, probably at more of an expense than a formal education. None of this is "equal", but it is all fair. It is all profitable. It is all love.
There is a global application here, too. We aren't all equal. We can't be treated equally. We can be recognized as individuals with separate abilities, needs, goals, and personalities. We can strive for fairness, we won't always succeed. We mustn't settle for the lowest common denominator, and sacrifice the stellar possibilities.
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