Hope or No Hope

Disclaimer: I'm not flipping out, finally losing it big-time. I'm amazed that even when things are relatively "quiet", there's still so much happening emotionally. I've really been struggling with sending O.S. a birthday card. And, mostly, because of that I've tried once again to analyze my motivations in our estrangement, and contemplate any ramifications of overt action. Also, sometime in February is the anniversary of the birthday dinner that launched all of the "mayhem and foolishness".

Isn't it "strange" how profoundly a simple pretense can affect us? I was amazed at the strength of the "alarm" I felt when, right before Christmas, D.I.L.ly sent a sarcastic email to some family members. It wasn't sent to me. It mentioned me only by implication. And, yet I felt punched in the gut. I found myself replaying everything, testing again all the decisions and consequences. Wondering, worrying, and internally bleeding.

I worried about the effects on my husband and daughter. I couldn't believe that, in spite of my "sacrifice", staying away and quiet, D.I.L.ly just might try and use me once again to bludgeon O.S.. That she was stirring, that it wasn't ever "over".

I read a book. I've actually read a whole lot of books...but I read one recently that "applies". It's called "The Sociopath Next Door", by Martha Stout. I AM NOT RECOMMENDING THIS BOOK. Read it if you want, it's easily understandable and absolutely fascinating. I read it in one sitting. I couldn't put it down. But, it's DANGEROUS to diagnose, to read anything into this situation without careful, thoughtful, skepticism. For estrangement, any estrangement, there are many causes and theories in abundance! I picked up this book, because, when all my problems with D.I.L.ly began there were strong indications that this was more than a personality conflict or a misunderstanding. D.I.L.ly was exhibiting even physical symptoms that something was seriously "wrong". I considered bi-polar disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder seemed a "better fit". I was strongly advised by our family counselor NOT to assume a diagnosis. I've been studious about that. But, there is something really, really broken or missing in D.I.L.ly. Something vast and frightening, something so HUGE, and yet I missed it or excused it, or ignored it, for over TEN YEARS!

I am not diagnosing my daughter-in-law! What caused me to pick up this book, was the wrongness of D.I.L.ly's emotions and reactions. The utter strangeness of the motivations she put on me, Daughter, and Tall One. The relentlessness. The feeling that nothing short of total annihilation would bring D.I.L.ly "peace". She truly wanted to destroy me. I began locking our doors. Tall One advised Dude to file a police report. I'm not in the habit of overreacting. Tall One is a study in calm apathetic denial.

But, even though I'm not allowed to diagnose, I gleaned some important insights from this book.

1). It was impossible for me to recognize or understand D.I.L.ly's mind. I do not have a point of reference. I could lock myself in a dark room, and by surviving, get a feel for what it's like to be blind. But, I can't take from my mind, the missing, broken part of D.I.L.ly, and then be able to empathize. The only thing I could do, which is common, is excuse, explain, or rationalize her actions within the framework of my experience. I couldn't see this coming. This is beyond my wildest imagination. I didn't fail her by missing something "fixable" or avoidable. It doesn't matter how much I love her, how much I hurt for her. She is beyond my reach.

2). D.I.L.ly is beyond repair. I will never be able to have a relationship with her, and therefore, I will never be able to have a relationship with O.S. while she is his wife. This is how we raised him, for better or worse. This is what we counseled him to do. I am O.S.'s mother, I will always be his mother, nothing will ever change that. But, I will not allow anyone to use me to hurt my children if it's in my power to try and prevent that. I will remove myself from O.S.'s life so that he never has to choose, and so that D.I.L.ly doesn't have the opportunity to rant and harp and make his life a living hell over ME. I will go to extreme lengths to be invisible to D.I.L.ly, so that her focus is off of me, and I am not the one to "cause" her "pain". Sooooooo.....

3). I'm not sending O.S. a birthday card. He will be 29 on February 8. When did a birthday card become a pivotal life changing decision? I can not be a part of O.S.'s life. I do not want a "reconciliation". I don't want my actions misinterpreted. My non-actions will be misinterpreted, I'm almost certain, if D.I.L.ly thinks about it, but her focus is totally self-centered. She has limited "vision". So, if I don't move (don't do anything to draw attention to myself), she may not even think of me.

4). I trust my son. I don't have to deal with the issues of immaturity, and blatant disrespect that some mothers with estranged children struggle. O.S. was extremely angry with me. I've never seen him so angry. But, he was never abusive. And, neither of us has ever said anything to each other that needs to be "undone". Even, as I believe he still loves me, I trust he knows that I love him, and if he needs to, he will be able to make his way back.

5). And if he never makes it "home"? Before the estrangement, when I was locking my doors, and Daughter and Grandsons were practically living at my house when Dude wasn't home, I had to seriously consider the possibility of D.I.L.ly harming - ok, killing, my son. I have no "proof" of violence. She never threatened bodily harm. She never made a move to physically hurt any of us, and yet, it's there, lurking. Shouldn't I just storm their home and drag my son away? Put him in "deprogramming"? Save him? I choose not to. I understand O.S.'s love for D.I.L.ly. I understand that he would gladly sacrifice anything for her. I respect that. He would not thank me. He has to see this through, where ever it goes. And, I have to let him. Ok, this is EXTREME. But, in a less martyr-ish scenario? Even if I do see him again, what will I get back, who will he be? I have to accept that inevitability.

5). I will concentrate on the people that love me, and that I can have in my life. I will continue to reach out to those I can, even though I'm scared.

6). None of this makes it hurt any less.

I don't know that O.S. will ever come back. But, I choose to believe that he will live a good life, find happiness, and prosper. I anticipate emotionally "bleeding" from my unhealed heart quite often in the future. I don't think that D.I.L.ly has a clue. This is how she is, she can't grow a conscience any more than someone can grow a missing limb.

Inevitable Decline....

I began this post in 1/09. I'm editing in 8/10....

Ok, I'm in the mood to beat a dead horse.

I am 52 years old. When I look in the mirror, I am not surprised. My eyelids drop, I'm forming jowls, I was inordinately pleased when I saw a picture of myself in profile and realized I didn't have a wattle. I assumed I did! My hair sparkles, my waist is thickening, I'm twenty pounds heavier than I used to be.

My knees hurt, they actually crunch when I go up the steps, the sound itself is enough to make me sit down. I have cramps all the time. I'm starting to understand the allure of "unnecessary hysterectomy". I haven't run all winter. I used to run in the snow. I remember parking at the grocery store and running around the residential streets because the roads were clearer. Now, it's difficult to get off my chair, go out to the garage, get in my car with heated seats and drive to the gym. It takes me a week to recover from a session at the gym. And, they aren't what they used to be when I would run 4 miles, workout with a sadistic trainer for an hour, and run home again. I remember running when I was sick, I thought it was good for me, "If I can run five miles with a fever, imagine how good I'll feel running when I'm better!".

I sleep a lot, 8 or nine hours at night, and a nap in the afternoon most days. I didn't sleep for twenty five years. First there were babies, and then there was Wheeler. Sleep was the enemy, robbing me of productivity. Three hours was a "good nap"! I felt rejuvenated. Now, even on nap days I drag around like the living dead. Losing sleep makes me physically ill, really, I get nauseated. There are days that I HAVE to lie down. It's physically impossible not to sleep.

All the time I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating. I didn't have to eat. I'd drink coffee, black coffee, the stronger the better. I could go all day. And, when I did eat, my food choices were horrendous! A couple of pieces of candy for breakfast, ice cream for dinner. I was hungry, but I was B-U-S-Y! Very, very busy. Tall One learned to cook. He subscribed to a recipe-card club, out of self-preservation. He kept our sons alive.

Now, I never miss a meal. 95% of the time I'm making informed nutritious food choices; low fat, fruit and salads, chicken, fish. I drink wine, which I never did before. And, my coffee, in the morning now contains no-fat half and half.

But, in spite of my new "commitment" to food, I sometimes FORGET to eat. Really, it's not self denial, I feel that gnawing, growling stomach churn and think, "oh my, I didn't eat breakfast". "What are you doing that preoccupies your time and thoughts to such an extent?", you may ask. I'm trying to wake up!!

She Lives!

Morning All.....She lives!

I'm feeling ever so much better today. I anticipate a return to productivity. And now that I can think again, I'm wondering....Why does being sick make me feel so guilty. Really, it will take me weeks to recover my equilibrium. This is encouraging, I'm obviously NOT a sociopath, but, it's also very, very troubling. Does anyone like to feel guilty? Well, ok, maybe masochists...but, obviously I'm not one of those, either.

I let people down when I'm sick. I couldn't make a very important board meeting. Well, I would have, but I called to see if they really, really needed me there. I could barely talk that day, and probably sounded really contagious, and they said, "No, we'll be ok, take care." What they probably meant was, "Dear God, shoot yourself, save the rest of us!". I didn't even want to be in the same room with me.

I couldn't take care of my grandsons. Daughter had to work, Dude had to work, Tall One had to work....I had to sit in my chair, with my box of tissues, and be ill. The three of them, Daughter seven months pregnant, had to rearrange their schedules, give up their free time, and accommodate my cold (ok, it was the mother-of-all-colds, but STILL...).

Tall One has been eating the same meal of "macaroni and meat" all week long. He made it for himself on Saturday. It's now Thursday. He sent the last of it home with Dude last evening. Now, it's take-out or soup.

Tall One, Daughter, and even Dude have been very supportive and understanding and caring. I can probably get past my culpability in their inconveniences...but, Nana goes much deeper.

Let the psychoanalysis begin:

When I was a child, Nana gloried in my infirmities. She would ensconce me on the sofa with bed pillows and afghans. I was supplied with fluids, treats and daytime TV. All was forgiven when in the throes of a terrible disease. This wasn't Munchausen by proxy, nothing so dramatic, I just think that Nana really, really likes to be in control and revels in the neediness of others - even as it annoys the crap out of her. (Nana is a dichotomy.) As I got older, I used this propensity for coddling to great advantage. My weaknesses endeared me to my mother. I stayed home from school because I was tired - with Nana's full approval.

As an adult, I gained control over my use of illness as an "excuse". At some point, I realized what I was doing: Using "not feeling well" to get out of responsibility and garner sympathy. I also had a few fairly serious debilitating physical issues; 1) three pregnancies, I was hospitalised three times for uncontrollable vomiting; 2) two or three awful bouts with the flu that scared me by the sheer brutality of sickness. I also began to realize how tedious it sounds to always complain about "not feeling well". Somewhere along the line I began to accept that "good enough" was just that, and that I didn't need an excuse for imperfection.

But, the flip side of this, now, is blame. From Nana: I don't rest enough, I go without a hat, I don't "take care of myself", I "do too much". Once Nana lost control of the "cure", she tried to gain control of the "cause". And it vexes me beyond endurance - especially when I'm not up to par, which is when the nagging begins. My illnesses now, are a direct result of my incapability. So mostly I don't tell her...but I couldn't hide this one. You can hear the annoyance in her voice. The shortness, the irritability on the phone. Some of it could be self-preservation. When I am sick, now, Nana is directly threatened. At 78, illness is more than an inconvenience, it's life threatening. She is dependent on me for her mobility. When I'm down-and-out, she could suffer. But I do take heroic steps to make sure she doesn't. The morning of the board meeting, that I "blew off", I did Nana's grocery shopping. She didn't "make me". I do feel more relaxed when her needs are met. But, somehow that gets turned into HER martyrdom. I don't know how she does it, but I find myself reassuring HER, ad nauseam. And, do you know what? I do feel guilty, stupid, inept. I do feel like I've let her down, put her at risk, compromised her safety and happiness. I do feel like IT'S ALL MY FAULT, I DID IT ON PURPOSE!!

Dr. Freud, where are when I need you?

Status Update

I am in the grip of a terrible disease. Ok, it's only a cold but it's been brutal. I felt so awful yesterday, I couldn't even read. I played games on my computer. I couldn't even think of a "status update" for my Facebook account. My throat was clogged with the thick mucus draining from my head. It hurt to cough, and cough I did; horrible, wracking, phlegm-filled croupish coughing, so intense it made me dizzy and incontinent. It's been building in intensity and increasing it's discomfort for over a week. This morning I woke with a sinus headache, if you've ever had one you know what I mean. It's pressure filled pain. You want to shove your fist up your nose and pull out the problem, not unlike cleaning out the inside of a jack-o-lantern, and then you'd need to go in through your mouth with a grapefruit spoon and scrape out your Eustachian tubes to alleviate the ringing and itching in your ears. I'd like to throw-up, to get rid of the garbage that ran down to my throat and was swallowed overnight. There is no relief for the discomfort. Day time cold medicine is only marginally effective. Actually, all it does is dry out your membranes, and add "burning rawness" to the list of indignities. I'm not sure Ibuprofen knows what to do, where to run. I can't taste, swallowing is out of the question, my eyes itch, my nose is an oozing abrasion, and my attitude needs a major adjustment. I know this is unpleasant, but you need to know.

I'm not sure why.

Logical Rationalizations

I belong to a support group. I joined a bit ago. It's for mothers with estranged children. It's been helpful. It's been interesting. I think we, the mothers, have a lot in common. I've found our situations to be uncannily similar.

But, there's been a thread of correspondence lately that I can't relate with, so I've been largely silent. I think it is a legitimate emotional feed. I just have no experience. Or, perhaps I have the experience and have moved beyond. I'm sensing that the mothers are searching for the logical, rational, seed that has propelled their offspring to cut off all contact. I have come to the conclusion that seed doesn't exist in my scenario - I'm wondering if it exists at all.

The moms are talking with a great deal of bitterness. Accusations of immaturity, selfishness, self-centered entitlement, unthinking, unfeeling, ungrateful offspring abound - which may be the case. But, in my experience, none of these adjectives apply. O.S. is cleaving to his wife, leaving his mother and father behind. D.I.L.ly is ill, with a warped perspective and incongruous expectations. I don't expect O.S. to act any differently. He is defending, in the only course open to him, his family, his life, his love.

This doesn't make our separation any less painful. Tall One put it so succinctly in counseling, and I paraphrase: Participation in our adult children's lives is our reward, it's not our right. I miss O.S. I miss D.I.L.ly as I knew her in the "before time". I wish I knew about their lives in the northern wilderness. I want to ask about O.S.'s job. He always took such pride in his machined parts. His was truly an act of artistic creation. Is the new shop a supportive work environment? Does he feel fulfilled? Does he like living in a rustic environment? How's the fishing? Is he hiking? Is he cold? Is he well? Is D.I.L.ly painting? Is she happy? Is she well? Are they happy together? What does he look forward to when he wakes up in the morning? What does he look forward to in life? Does he look forward? Does he look back? How's the dog?

I get the impression, from some of the mothers in our group, that, in their minds, the proper course of action on their sons part, would have been to leave their needy, conniving, manipulative, angry, abusive, evil spouses and choose their mothers instead. If the sons had, I believe this would have supported the immature, needy, selfish interpretation of their character. I KNOW how unpleasant these woman (the wives) can be. I KNOW how unreasonable, demonic their actions and reactions are. There is no rational explanation. Imagine, if we mothers are so unnerved, what our sons are dealing with - and they LOVE these women. They've made a life with them. They've taken vows and invested resources. One of them has a child. Can you imagine their anguish? Can you imagine the harping, nagging, screaming, negative innuendos, outright lies that these men have endured constantly. I don't believe that our sons believe the accusations, I believe that they are taking the steps they need to, in order to survive. They have acquiesced. They have learned not to argue, cajole, or disagree.

It takes superhuman strength and incredible external resources to stand strong against the onslaught of negativity and vile allegations of our disturbed daughters-in-law. I barely accomplished it. It takes superhuman strength and incredible internal resources not to run home to the relatively sane, safety and acceptance of mom and hearth. And think of the loss. Our sons are adults. They have moved beyond our kisses and bandaids. I would expect the same support from Tall One. I would expect him to stay no matter how sick, sad or unreasonable I could be. I would expect him to support me. I would applaud his dedication. Can I do any less for my son as he deals with the mental illness of the woman he's chosen to be his mate? Wouldn't I want him to do everything that he could to save himself - even if it meant sacrificing me?

I despair that O.S. is cut off, separated and secluded from a calm center and our support. I fear he's isolated from all rational insight. But, I bore and raised him to move on. I've equipped him to the best of my ability to survive and thrive. I trust my Older Son. He owes me nothing. I have his young lifetime of wonderful, positive memories that haven't been compromised by the holocaust of our estrangement.

I can't convey this emotional information directly to the mother's of estranged sons. I'm not sure it even applies. And my heart bleeds for the mother's of estranged daughters, that's something I can only imagine, and then, those grandmother's estranged from their grandchildren - that I can only anticipate with horror and trepidation.

Facebook

Ok, just because I haven't blogged, doesn't mean that nothing bad is happening....

I've joined Facebook.

I really don't have oodles of free time. I don't have a job with lots of downtime that affords me the luxury of unlimited access and the occasion to fritter it away on the Internet, AND get paid for it. I don't need friends. I have friends that I like and social outlets (not virtual) to meet more friends, should I desire them. I don't, won't ever, don't ask me to....network. So what in the world have I done?

I wasn't bored. No body under any circumstances, except for prisoner-of-war or jury duty and neither of those are applicable, could be THAT bored. I wasn't compelled. No one was bothering, nagging at me, coercing, or even urging me to participate...in fact one really good friend wasn't even sure he wanted to confirm me as his "friend" - what is he hiding? I'm quite sure my children and their spouses don't want me prying into their accounts. Most of the people I know aren't interesting in receiving "flare" or participating in questionnaires to find out who they were in a former life, or being friends with everyone I'm friends with or...networking.

So what is it with this web site? It's strangely intriguing. I get to answer the question in real time, "What am I doing right now?" It's voyeuristic. I get to "see" what other people are doing. I look at their pictures, read their profiles. It's communicative and artistic. I write on walls, send messages, comment, and read pithy sayings on "bumper stickers". I could create bumper stickers if I'm so inclined.

I have a pathetic cell phone, a digital camera, and my very own laptop. We have wireless Internet access and in-house computer/printer networking (which is acceptable, it's not the "other" kind of networking). Our business is fully automated, except for the Tall One who programs the automation. We have a DVR, which I'm not sure how we lived without. What we don't have is a GPS device, really good cell phones with all the bells and whistles, iPods and/or MP3 players, or blackberries.

And that my friend (virtual or real), is bogus.

Dinner and a Song

I had dinner with Song, at my house. I made quinoa pie, and Christmas cookies. We opened a bottle of Grapeful Red. She told me where she's at...

She's been pretty depressed...and she has good reason. Dead husband, no insurance money, lack of security. She lost, or forfeited, her vocation. But, she's not defeated. The thing I like about Song, well one of the things, is that she will ask for help. She's been feeling badly. She went to the doctor and got a prescription for, not an antidepressant, but anti-anxiety, the new emotional challenge. But, she's doing everything she can for herself. I love that. She has every reason to give up and give in. But she won't.

She's going to contact the local rescue mission, to see if they need help on Christmas day. She thinks that'll be good for her. I do too.

I have to send her an email. She was supposed to go, with her sister and brother-in-law, to the place where she and her deceased husband spent their first date. I hope she had a lovely time. She deserves to have a lovely time.

She's made reservations at her husband's favorite natural resource. That's where she and her family will scatter his ashes. She has the most practical, thought-out plan you can surmise. She has put effort into her life.

She's cutting back her work hours. She needs time. She should have time. Isn't that a truly remarkable revelation? I hope we get to take walks together. I need her perspective.

Survive the holidays, Song, you should be able to breathe a little real, real soon.