MIL Chronicles (part deux) *language and adult content-which is real life for me*
MIL: could you imagine being that rich?
She's speaking of the orange guy fucking shit up.
Me: nope
MIL: don't you wish you could marry him, because he wouldn't want to just date he is honorable and wants to be married
Me: you mean the guy that has cheated on every wife, 2 of the 3 immigrants and then marries the mistress? That guy? No. Not just no...
MIL: oh come on you'd be living in all that gold!
Me: I like my house that I work for, thank you.
MIL: but if you could get a million dollars you'd sleep with him wouldn't you?
Me: NOT JUST NO, hell no
MIL: why not!
Me: first, he's disgusting. Second he hates women, old people, poor people and anyone who isn't orange like him. Third he's a douche. Forth I've seen his little tiny thumbs and THAT would be a waste of my time. SIZE MATTERS
MIL: laughing so hard she is crying .... Debra get out of here!
Me: 🎤 drop. Close the door. Lock her in. Go scrub my mind with Clorox at the very idea.
Monday, February 26, 2018
MIL Chronicles - March 2015
MIL Chronicles: T minus 8 days
Big: (to me) Linda brought me baked ziti today
Me: oh that's nice. Has Gail brought cookies again?
These are clients of his.
MIL: oh STEVEN you eat the stuff they bring you?!
Me: oh yeah. He has quite a little network going. He's only wearing the cologne I hate at work and his harem is bringing food.
Big: *head thrown back laughing* shut up
Me: yeah I shouldn't even cook for him, I should let them
MIL: I can't believe you eat that shit they bring you! You don't know what their kitchen looks like. It's probably dirty as shit!
(She is the only good cook on the planet and the only one who has a clean kitchen. That's the story. Here comes the hook.)
Big: mother these women are my friends. I've been to Gail's house! Deb and I helped her when she had her hip replacement. I'm not worried about those kitchens
MIL: you don't know they could have cats that jump all over the counters and there could be feathers in the food. Ack! No.
Big: (to me, laughing) this one over here had cats with feathers! Mother, cats have fur not feathers.
MIL: you know what I mean
Big: no, most of the time I really don't.
Big: (to me) Linda brought me baked ziti today
Me: oh that's nice. Has Gail brought cookies again?
These are clients of his.
MIL: oh STEVEN you eat the stuff they bring you?!
Me: oh yeah. He has quite a little network going. He's only wearing the cologne I hate at work and his harem is bringing food.
Big: *head thrown back laughing* shut up
Me: yeah I shouldn't even cook for him, I should let them
MIL: I can't believe you eat that shit they bring you! You don't know what their kitchen looks like. It's probably dirty as shit!
(She is the only good cook on the planet and the only one who has a clean kitchen. That's the story. Here comes the hook.)
Big: mother these women are my friends. I've been to Gail's house! Deb and I helped her when she had her hip replacement. I'm not worried about those kitchens
MIL: you don't know they could have cats that jump all over the counters and there could be feathers in the food. Ack! No.
Big: (to me, laughing) this one over here had cats with feathers! Mother, cats have fur not feathers.
MIL: you know what I mean
Big: no, most of the time I really don't.
MIL Chronicles - April 2017
MIL Chronicles
Me: the amount of dark chocolate you eat is equivalent to about 3 cokes a day. That's why you can't sleep
MIL: they say that but I don't believe that.
Me: denying the thing you don't like doesn't mean it's not true.
MIL: I'm just always tired because I don't sleep at night. I think I'm emick
Me: do you mean ANemic?
MIL: yes, I was told I was when I was pregnant with Steven.
Me: so that's almost a HALF CENTURY ago. I've seen all your labs and you are not Anemic
MIL: I don't know why I can't sleep.
Me: we just went in a circle. Did you feel that?
Me: the amount of dark chocolate you eat is equivalent to about 3 cokes a day. That's why you can't sleep
MIL: they say that but I don't believe that.
Me: denying the thing you don't like doesn't mean it's not true.
MIL: I'm just always tired because I don't sleep at night. I think I'm emick
Me: do you mean ANemic?
MIL: yes, I was told I was when I was pregnant with Steven.
Me: so that's almost a HALF CENTURY ago. I've seen all your labs and you are not Anemic
MIL: I don't know why I can't sleep.
Me: we just went in a circle. Did you feel that?
Sunday, February 25, 2018
MIL Chronicles - Feb 25, 2018 - and a helpful hint...
I'll begin my story as if you already know the MIL Chronicles. You likely do. Soon enough they will all be here and you can catch up.
So MIL is on hospice. The hospice I used to work for. Her nurse is a lovely young woman and a terrific hospice nurse. She knows her stuff and makes MIL feel special every time she is in the house. That makes me happy and Big crazy. He likes to be the authority, you see and it aggravates that MIL can hear the same words from myself or Big and pay no attention nor retain the information but when the hospice nurse says it, it is GOSPEL. It is and that's fine. Even someone as nutty fruit cake as MIL deserves some happiness and light at the end. She has been on for 3 months. I didn't think she would be recertified but she did it! I'm grateful. MIL loves her nurse and the home hospice aide who comes to see her 3X a week and make sure she showers safely and gets dressed, fluffed and puffed has also won MIL's heart. I am grateful for this, too. I have seen what it looks like when MIL is not over the top crazy about someone. It's painful and makes me have violent thoughts. So we have 3 more months of this great care for her.
Big and I have taken much abuse lately about the fact that we don't do anything for her. That's her view, you see. Well we have had a few go rounds. I try to do what I can, but frankly with my travel schedule Big is reluctant to let me out of his site when I am home and he is home. I'm good with that, but every now and then I need to do more for MIL. More for me than for her. Even though she is a total PIA and not a nice person and would drive Christ himself insane, she's the only mother either of us have left so I do what family does and take care of family. My friend who does my nails says I am actually Asian based on the way I take care of my family. A compliment to be sure.
This weekend was one where I felt like I needed to help MIL a little. She has arthritis (she says artharitis) in her shoulders. She from way back thinks however, that pain means stop moving rather than move more to keep mobile. Hence being 5'5" and 250lbs. I do know that when she really hurts she doesn't make food for herself other than toast or applesauce or candy or chips or pretzels (all low sodium, dontcha know) and has nothing to eat all week in the way of left overs.
Friday - me working from home:
On Friday's I work from home. When I say I work from home I don't mean I am on the couch chilling and watching TV. I mean I work for a nationwide company and Friday is marathon call day and finish up reports day and any manner of things. It is not uncommon for me to be on the phone for a solid 7 hours on a Friday with various calls. I'm not exaggerating. Whilst on one of my many calls on Friday, MIL calls me. I send her to voicemail because...working.... I text Big and ask him to call her and see what she needs.
This does 2 things. #1 it pisses Big off because he tells her every week to leave me alone because I am working. #2 it pisses her off because she calls me to try to get me to do things that she can hide from Big. She isn't accustomed to he and I being married and actually speaking to each other.
This issue was, she was eating her 2nd ice cream bar with dark chocolate coating, she dropped chocolate on the dining room throw rug. (you should know at this point that she only eats dark chocolate because it's good for you..."they" say it's good for you) This was an emergency and she wanted me to come over right away to get it out. Um, no. Because...working. Big's text message back to me went something like don't you dare go over there.
He did tell her earlier in the day to make her grocery list so I could go shopping for her when I finished working. She was put out by this request as she didn't feel like it. Isn't that sad? So anyway, Big told her I would be there between 5p and 6p depending on when I finished working. Between. He said Between. Remember that, it'll have meaning in a couple of sentences.
My marathon call day continues until around 5:45p. As I get off the last call Big texts me and says call me before you go to mother's. So I do.
Big: Do you know what that lunatic is doing?
Me: Nope...because...working.
Big: I told her between 5 and 6, right?
Me: Yes
Big: Well she called me at 10 minutes after 5 wanting to know when you were coming over because she is waiting for you downstairs.
Me: So that's unfortunate.
Big: I just checked on her on the camera. She is sitting in her chairlift with her hands flying and losing her f'ing mind bitching at something real or imagined. She's pissed you aren't there.
Me: Know what's interesting? She never says anything to me when I go over there. She only bitches about me to you.
I go over and she's a little on edge, but fine. I go grocery shopping and come back. I am weighed down like a pack mule because I don't want to have to take the cart back to the store. We live right behind the store and I walk to get groceries. Every time - I'm saying EVERY TIME she says, "Deb why didn't you bring the cart and just come in through the garage? You shouldn't be carrying all that stuff! You'll get artharitis in your shoulders like me and not be able to move them." Every time - I'm saying EVERY TIME I say, "No the way to not get stiff and cease up is to KEEP moving and KEEP lifting." And I am too lazy to take the cart back. There is that.
After the groceries are put away and she bitches about how much of this I got or how much of that I got (potato chips that are low sodium are this week's burr under her saddle. She asked for two bags. I got three because the last time I got her these chips she had blown through a bag by Sunday night) she has me come over to see the chocolate on the rug. She proceeds to tell me that it must have happened the day before. Yet, she needed me to come over at 11:30am immediately to get it off the rug. Uh huh. I tell her I will be back on Saturday to get it out with my little steam cleaner. I also offer to cook for her for the week. She graciously accepts my offer.
Saturday I go over around 1pm and cook for a solid 3 hours. 2 pasta dishes (she's diabetic but doesn't know what carbs are and their effect is, despite my telling her so I make pasta. My blood sugar is fine) 20 cookies, 3 hard boiled eggs and clean the kitchen. THEN I rev up the steam cleaner to clean the rug. She tells me why don't you just come back tomorrow and do the rug. This is code for I am tired of sitting down here and want to go up to my recliner that I live in. I tell her to go on up, I won't be insulted but that I want to get it done. As soon as she is upstairs I open the back door to the garage, prop it open and allow some cool air to come in. It's hotter than hell in the joint. Old people hot coupled with cooking hot and I'm melting. I make her the cup of juice she has in the afternoon. It's diluted with water so it's not so sweet, says she. It's really so it will last longer because she is as tight as the bark on a tree! It's grape juice. Remember that. It'll be important later. I finish and go home.
It's nail night. Every two weeks Big and I go and get pedicures, he gets a manicure and I have my nails done. It's relaxing. Don't tell anyone, Big doesn't want his friends to know. Anyway, we finish some things at home and go out to run a couple of errands and head to the nail shop. At this point I am thinking MIL is all set. She has plenty of food, plenty of milk, plenty of snacks. Now we can decompress!
I sit in my pedicure chair. My friend puts the little tin foilies on my nails to take off the polish and commence relaxing. My phone rings. The ring tone is the Scarecrow...you know the one, from that famous film about the chick from Kansas who wants to get back home and wears all the sparkles on her shoes? That's MIL's ringtone. So anyway, picking up the phone in the little foilies is hard. Answering it is harder. As soon as it starts to ring, Big looks over and says Oh COME ON, seriously?? Yes. I finally manage to pick it up:
MIL: Deb?
Me: (thinking that is who you were calling) Hi Dena
MIL: (whimpering) Oh Deb, I spilled my juice (now full blown crying) I'm so sorry!
Me: the grape juice? On the carpet? (the carpet is WHITE)
MIL: yes!
Me: Ok, well I am out running some errands right now but I will be over when I get home to clean it up.
MIL: ok, thank you. I'm so sorry. You just worked all day for me and now you need to come back.
Me: it's ok
Now I tell Big this issue:
Me: Grape juice. Spilled. On the carpet in her sitting room
Big: She has to eat and drink up stairs...has to. Can't leave it downstairs.
Me: No she can't. She doesn't want to. She is 82 and will be dead soon and wherever she wants to eat she should eat. That said...M..F! I just cleaned and dried the steam cleaner! Fuck. Now I have to get it allllllll out again.
Big: will it come out?
Me: Grape juice? Hell no it won't.
I am finishing up my nails and tell him to google how to get it out. 2 cups water to 1 tbsp of ammonia, says Dr. Google. Ok...I'll try it. First we go back to Walgreens that we have already been to TWICE today to buy her 2 cups to put juice in. Ones that actually shut. Ones that aren't going to have a stupid straw. Because she will still drink upstairs.
The stain was a big area. White carpet. I said that, right? White. Because she likes things bright. And never opens the blinds. I digress, yes white carpet. I start with the steam cleaner. Zero results. So I mix up the ammonia concoction and commence to soak it down as Dr. Google suggests. The chemical reaction turns the purple juice to blue and THEN it actually starts to come out of the carpet!!! Miracle. That's what that is. I clean it and ammonia it and clean it and ammonia it a few times. I got damned near all of it up. Seriously, call me Heloise because this tip is the shit!
I then make the decision that the steam cleaner should probably just stay at her house. I feel like it gets most of it's use there. Big, of course, never missing an opportunity, tells her on the phone later this is the reason the dog can't come over anymore. She drops things that are not good for him and can't pick them up. She just thinks Big is being an ass. Matters not, the dog isn't going over there.
Now we are alllll finished with the second stained carpet. She gets choked up...but don't worry because she has an internal switch where she can turn tears off and on like a LIGHT SWITCH and asks me how can she ever repay me. The answer on the tip of my tongue is held back and I just say oh stop it you don't owe me anything.
And then I went home. Luckily home is across the sidewalk. As I told Big when we decided to move her here...it's gonna be a PIA, I don't want it to be a PIA with a 45 minute commute in each direction.
Another relaxing weekend in the books. The End.
So MIL is on hospice. The hospice I used to work for. Her nurse is a lovely young woman and a terrific hospice nurse. She knows her stuff and makes MIL feel special every time she is in the house. That makes me happy and Big crazy. He likes to be the authority, you see and it aggravates that MIL can hear the same words from myself or Big and pay no attention nor retain the information but when the hospice nurse says it, it is GOSPEL. It is and that's fine. Even someone as nutty fruit cake as MIL deserves some happiness and light at the end. She has been on for 3 months. I didn't think she would be recertified but she did it! I'm grateful. MIL loves her nurse and the home hospice aide who comes to see her 3X a week and make sure she showers safely and gets dressed, fluffed and puffed has also won MIL's heart. I am grateful for this, too. I have seen what it looks like when MIL is not over the top crazy about someone. It's painful and makes me have violent thoughts. So we have 3 more months of this great care for her.
Big and I have taken much abuse lately about the fact that we don't do anything for her. That's her view, you see. Well we have had a few go rounds. I try to do what I can, but frankly with my travel schedule Big is reluctant to let me out of his site when I am home and he is home. I'm good with that, but every now and then I need to do more for MIL. More for me than for her. Even though she is a total PIA and not a nice person and would drive Christ himself insane, she's the only mother either of us have left so I do what family does and take care of family. My friend who does my nails says I am actually Asian based on the way I take care of my family. A compliment to be sure.
This weekend was one where I felt like I needed to help MIL a little. She has arthritis (she says artharitis) in her shoulders. She from way back thinks however, that pain means stop moving rather than move more to keep mobile. Hence being 5'5" and 250lbs. I do know that when she really hurts she doesn't make food for herself other than toast or applesauce or candy or chips or pretzels (all low sodium, dontcha know) and has nothing to eat all week in the way of left overs.
Friday - me working from home:
On Friday's I work from home. When I say I work from home I don't mean I am on the couch chilling and watching TV. I mean I work for a nationwide company and Friday is marathon call day and finish up reports day and any manner of things. It is not uncommon for me to be on the phone for a solid 7 hours on a Friday with various calls. I'm not exaggerating. Whilst on one of my many calls on Friday, MIL calls me. I send her to voicemail because...working.... I text Big and ask him to call her and see what she needs.
This does 2 things. #1 it pisses Big off because he tells her every week to leave me alone because I am working. #2 it pisses her off because she calls me to try to get me to do things that she can hide from Big. She isn't accustomed to he and I being married and actually speaking to each other.
This issue was, she was eating her 2nd ice cream bar with dark chocolate coating, she dropped chocolate on the dining room throw rug. (you should know at this point that she only eats dark chocolate because it's good for you..."they" say it's good for you) This was an emergency and she wanted me to come over right away to get it out. Um, no. Because...working. Big's text message back to me went something like don't you dare go over there.
He did tell her earlier in the day to make her grocery list so I could go shopping for her when I finished working. She was put out by this request as she didn't feel like it. Isn't that sad? So anyway, Big told her I would be there between 5p and 6p depending on when I finished working. Between. He said Between. Remember that, it'll have meaning in a couple of sentences.
My marathon call day continues until around 5:45p. As I get off the last call Big texts me and says call me before you go to mother's. So I do.
Big: Do you know what that lunatic is doing?
Me: Nope...because...working.
Big: I told her between 5 and 6, right?
Me: Yes
Big: Well she called me at 10 minutes after 5 wanting to know when you were coming over because she is waiting for you downstairs.
Me: So that's unfortunate.
Big: I just checked on her on the camera. She is sitting in her chairlift with her hands flying and losing her f'ing mind bitching at something real or imagined. She's pissed you aren't there.
Me: Know what's interesting? She never says anything to me when I go over there. She only bitches about me to you.
I go over and she's a little on edge, but fine. I go grocery shopping and come back. I am weighed down like a pack mule because I don't want to have to take the cart back to the store. We live right behind the store and I walk to get groceries. Every time - I'm saying EVERY TIME she says, "Deb why didn't you bring the cart and just come in through the garage? You shouldn't be carrying all that stuff! You'll get artharitis in your shoulders like me and not be able to move them." Every time - I'm saying EVERY TIME I say, "No the way to not get stiff and cease up is to KEEP moving and KEEP lifting." And I am too lazy to take the cart back. There is that.
After the groceries are put away and she bitches about how much of this I got or how much of that I got (potato chips that are low sodium are this week's burr under her saddle. She asked for two bags. I got three because the last time I got her these chips she had blown through a bag by Sunday night) she has me come over to see the chocolate on the rug. She proceeds to tell me that it must have happened the day before. Yet, she needed me to come over at 11:30am immediately to get it off the rug. Uh huh. I tell her I will be back on Saturday to get it out with my little steam cleaner. I also offer to cook for her for the week. She graciously accepts my offer.
Saturday I go over around 1pm and cook for a solid 3 hours. 2 pasta dishes (she's diabetic but doesn't know what carbs are and their effect is, despite my telling her so I make pasta. My blood sugar is fine) 20 cookies, 3 hard boiled eggs and clean the kitchen. THEN I rev up the steam cleaner to clean the rug. She tells me why don't you just come back tomorrow and do the rug. This is code for I am tired of sitting down here and want to go up to my recliner that I live in. I tell her to go on up, I won't be insulted but that I want to get it done. As soon as she is upstairs I open the back door to the garage, prop it open and allow some cool air to come in. It's hotter than hell in the joint. Old people hot coupled with cooking hot and I'm melting. I make her the cup of juice she has in the afternoon. It's diluted with water so it's not so sweet, says she. It's really so it will last longer because she is as tight as the bark on a tree! It's grape juice. Remember that. It'll be important later. I finish and go home.
It's nail night. Every two weeks Big and I go and get pedicures, he gets a manicure and I have my nails done. It's relaxing. Don't tell anyone, Big doesn't want his friends to know. Anyway, we finish some things at home and go out to run a couple of errands and head to the nail shop. At this point I am thinking MIL is all set. She has plenty of food, plenty of milk, plenty of snacks. Now we can decompress!
I sit in my pedicure chair. My friend puts the little tin foilies on my nails to take off the polish and commence relaxing. My phone rings. The ring tone is the Scarecrow...you know the one, from that famous film about the chick from Kansas who wants to get back home and wears all the sparkles on her shoes? That's MIL's ringtone. So anyway, picking up the phone in the little foilies is hard. Answering it is harder. As soon as it starts to ring, Big looks over and says Oh COME ON, seriously?? Yes. I finally manage to pick it up:
MIL: Deb?
Me: (thinking that is who you were calling) Hi Dena
MIL: (whimpering) Oh Deb, I spilled my juice (now full blown crying) I'm so sorry!
Me: the grape juice? On the carpet? (the carpet is WHITE)
MIL: yes!
Me: Ok, well I am out running some errands right now but I will be over when I get home to clean it up.
MIL: ok, thank you. I'm so sorry. You just worked all day for me and now you need to come back.
Me: it's ok
Now I tell Big this issue:
Me: Grape juice. Spilled. On the carpet in her sitting room
Big: She has to eat and drink up stairs...has to. Can't leave it downstairs.
Me: No she can't. She doesn't want to. She is 82 and will be dead soon and wherever she wants to eat she should eat. That said...M..F! I just cleaned and dried the steam cleaner! Fuck. Now I have to get it allllllll out again.
Big: will it come out?
Me: Grape juice? Hell no it won't.
I am finishing up my nails and tell him to google how to get it out. 2 cups water to 1 tbsp of ammonia, says Dr. Google. Ok...I'll try it. First we go back to Walgreens that we have already been to TWICE today to buy her 2 cups to put juice in. Ones that actually shut. Ones that aren't going to have a stupid straw. Because she will still drink upstairs.
The stain was a big area. White carpet. I said that, right? White. Because she likes things bright. And never opens the blinds. I digress, yes white carpet. I start with the steam cleaner. Zero results. So I mix up the ammonia concoction and commence to soak it down as Dr. Google suggests. The chemical reaction turns the purple juice to blue and THEN it actually starts to come out of the carpet!!! Miracle. That's what that is. I clean it and ammonia it and clean it and ammonia it a few times. I got damned near all of it up. Seriously, call me Heloise because this tip is the shit!
I then make the decision that the steam cleaner should probably just stay at her house. I feel like it gets most of it's use there. Big, of course, never missing an opportunity, tells her on the phone later this is the reason the dog can't come over anymore. She drops things that are not good for him and can't pick them up. She just thinks Big is being an ass. Matters not, the dog isn't going over there.
Now we are alllll finished with the second stained carpet. She gets choked up...but don't worry because she has an internal switch where she can turn tears off and on like a LIGHT SWITCH and asks me how can she ever repay me. The answer on the tip of my tongue is held back and I just say oh stop it you don't owe me anything.
And then I went home. Luckily home is across the sidewalk. As I told Big when we decided to move her here...it's gonna be a PIA, I don't want it to be a PIA with a 45 minute commute in each direction.
Another relaxing weekend in the books. The End.
I'm Back...
So in reading through my old blog's, I recognize a couple of things. First, a couple are hidden. Someone who read my blog gave me some good advice and said that there are somethings my children shouldn't have to know about me or the people I love. That was good advice.
2011 was probably the hardest year of my life. There was so much turmoil. Professional changes, starting my BSN, my marriage imploding...to be recovered, but I didn't know that when it all started. It's really no wonder that I didn't continue. Once I had my voice again I stopped for a long time. Mostly because I could hear my own voice again.
Now I'm back. I've exercised my voice for the better part of 7 years. Much of it on FaceBook and even more of it nowhere else. This spot is mine. You will never see commentary from my work life unless there is something so fantastic that it bears telling, but for the most part nothing. I learned that lesson. Most especially if it's a job I still have!
The biggest change in life (for the purpose of good story telling) has been the MIL Chronicles. The MIL (Mother-In-Law) Chronicles have been a good way to get the ridiculous off my chest and to provide laughter to others at my obvious expense! Seriously, it helps me to laugh, too.
The next entry after this one will be about this weekend's MIL events. Soon, I will figure how to pull all the old ones off of FaceBook and get them here so they are easily perused.
And we're off....
2011 was probably the hardest year of my life. There was so much turmoil. Professional changes, starting my BSN, my marriage imploding...to be recovered, but I didn't know that when it all started. It's really no wonder that I didn't continue. Once I had my voice again I stopped for a long time. Mostly because I could hear my own voice again.
Now I'm back. I've exercised my voice for the better part of 7 years. Much of it on FaceBook and even more of it nowhere else. This spot is mine. You will never see commentary from my work life unless there is something so fantastic that it bears telling, but for the most part nothing. I learned that lesson. Most especially if it's a job I still have!
The biggest change in life (for the purpose of good story telling) has been the MIL Chronicles. The MIL (Mother-In-Law) Chronicles have been a good way to get the ridiculous off my chest and to provide laughter to others at my obvious expense! Seriously, it helps me to laugh, too.
The next entry after this one will be about this weekend's MIL events. Soon, I will figure how to pull all the old ones off of FaceBook and get them here so they are easily perused.
And we're off....
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Love
So sometimes I feel like I am the only one on the planet not really getting it. I’m not. I’m the only one on the planet in my skin not getting it…… The longer I go and the more I learn the more I know that I am on many levels doing it right. No one is completely right, ever. No one is finished learning how to do it better, ever. I’m no exception. But let us review and see if I have some things figured out.
Should you help people you love? Yes, as long as offering and giving that help does not destroy you or endanger you.
Should you help people you love in a different way then you loved them before? Yes, as long as loving them and paying attention to what they need doesn’t turn into your own self-destruction.
Should you love people unconditionally? Yes, but that doesn’t mean that you should love them stupidly and blindly.
Should you love someone who has hurt you? Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should open yourself up to be hurt again. That old saying about forgiving and forgetting….that’s wrong. Forgive yes, forget hell! Never forget. Remember for your own protection and emotional health is not the same thing as a grudge.
Should you love people you know to be flawed? Well, of course. Everyone is flawed.
Should you expect to be loved no matter what? No. That’s where the “yes, but” answers end.
Did you notice a pattern? Yes, but. That’s the pattern. There is never a clear cut yes and always yes answer. Grown-ups….real grown-ups know this is the case. People who refuse to grow up are not so sure of this fact. Even when it comes to your children…assuming you have them and assuming you love them, which is not necessarily an automatic. I love my children. There will never be another answer to that question then yes, I love them. NOW….there is a but…the but is just because I will always love them doesn’t mean I won’t drop them at the police station if I find drugs in their purses, that’s love. Just because I love them doesn’t mean I won’t tell them they are absolutely wrong in the way they have treated someone. Just because I love them doesn’t mean I can’t HATE an act or action on their part. I am not speaking of them here nor is this motivated by them. (Hi Em & Mags! Love ya)
I guess I am just trying to reconcile to myself that even though I have been hurt in places and by people it is ok to continue to love them. Insulate from the dangers, but still love them. I can help at arm’s length and still be a true help.
A friend of mine told my oldest daughter recently that I am the only person that she has ever known that absolutely loves people despite being hurt by them, despite their faults and still helps these people and wants what is best for them. She said that is the way it is supposed to be. I guess it is and I don’t know if it is true that I do that, but it sure was a nice thing to say. I hope it’s true. I hope everyone I love knows I will try to make it true. I hope everyone I love knows that I will do it openly, but now very cautiously as well.
You see, by firing people in my life who aren’t doing me any good I have gained the confidence to make the people in my life who are worth my effort really worth my effort. Weeding out the brush makes way for more flowers to grow. Firing people from your life isn’t a bad thing…it’s a good thing.
Yeah, yeah…I know all that Christian mumbo jumbo and all that “girl” propaganda about always being nice to people. But let’s be real, I don’t have to be nice to you if you’re an ass and if you cause me pain. By not being nice to you that does not mean I will intentionally be mean to you or work to destroy you. I just won’t….won’t work to be nice to you or work to be mean to you. You just won’t have my time or energy. It has been said that living well is the best revenge. That is the truest thing ever spoken. Being happy, loving the people you love, knowing you are loved by them and doing right by them….what kind of revenge is better for the people who have hurt you to have thrown in their faces then for them to see you smile and laugh.
I witnessed a beautiful wedding this past weekend. Someone I truly love married someone she is sure is well worth the effort of being married to and making a new family with. I don’t know that I will ever have the courage again but I don’t know anyone more worthy of having it work out then she is. She is strong and loves like no one else I have ever known…consistently. Anyone who can honor that with her will have a long and happy marriage to her and life with her.
Hopefully, as we have gotten older together this friend and I have learned that even though some people will remain in our lives, they can be fired just the same. It is possible to do all you can to be civil and fair and not be taken advantage of or take any more sh*t from someone. That’s maturity. That’s the grown up of which I speak. Knowing how to love and how to cut your losses and knowing who a new bond and relationship can be developed with and who it just shouldn't be attempted with is the challenge and the goal. It’s a gift when you have someone in your life that can help you with the losses that need to be cut and embrace your ability to continue to love others.
So here is the moral to the story….love. It’s gonna hurt every now and then if you are doing it right. I must be doing it right cause it has for sure hurt. Smiles have outweighed tears to date in my life, so I’ll keep going and keep hoping.
My beloved cousin told me during my last year of roller coaster emotions that I don't have to work at making someone else work at loving me. Sit back and let someone else show me and prove to me they are worth my time. Be chased, be treasured, don’t be low maintenance, don’t accept bare minimum. It’s not what I give so it’s not what I should get. Oh yeah…and the most important thing, don’t get in any relationships with men who are more obviously girls then I am….just sayin.
Go out there and tear it up folks, more smiles then tears. The one who dies with the most smiles wins :o).
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Moms and Daughters
So I have wisely decided to take whatever April 26 is through May 3rd off every year. There is a good reason. Last week I was irritable and a little on edge. Didn’t know why…consciously. Then I got a call from a family that had a similar story to mine and my sister’s. I didn’t know if this mother would become a patient of mine but I couldn’t NOT help this family. Every now and then you get to look back on things in your life and be thankful that nothing truly bad has ever happened to you. People come and go out of our lives. Sometimes we miss them and sometimes we don’t. There are many more that I don’t miss then there are ones I do miss.
Sisters and brother experience the same people in their lives at the same moment in time in different ways. My perspective about my mother is totally different then my sister’s. We had two very different experiences age 1-10….you could almost argue a different woman attended each of our childhoods. Some things about that woman were static. Love. Nurturing. Protective. That we both got. That’s the only piece of either of our childhoods that survives or is important now.
For those of you who still have your mother there is something very strange about not having her. Past the sadness and the experience there is a strange orphaned feeling. I was an adult when she died, my sister was just a teenager. I was thrown into making all the grown up decisions that come with death and she was rendered speechless with shock. I went through speechless with shock a year later on the anniversary of her death. May 1st. That’s why I have decided that this pre-Mother’s Day weekend and the days that surround it I can not work….at least not at my hospice job.
The people I spent the weekend with were not my family but looked a lot like all of them. Each face losing someone different in the same person. A sister, a wife, a mother, a daughter. One day she was having a lucid conversation with myself and her husband and the next day she couldn’t form a clear thought. When her husband called me Saturday night he just said…..you said to call if I needed you, I need you. Family had arrived and he had run out of words. He had run out of the story that brought them to this place and had run out of patience for explaining it one more time. I told him that if he needed me to help with that I would. So I went back to the hospital to tell her sister why things were only going to be counted in hours until this woman would die. The questions came calmly and somehow I sat calmly with these people and answered the questions. Why is her body failing? Why can’t we fix X or Y or Z? Can we do something to get her to this one big event we were trying to help her make it to? By the end of the conversation they only wanted her comfort because the outcome couldn’t change. Every time I comfort a family through their loved one dying I fight not to cry. Today I lost the fight. As her almost 17 year old daughter looked at me all could think about was the look on my sisters face when I rounded the corner the day our mother died….really died, not the day she drew her last breath. While I looked at this girl I thought, please let this horrible day have been peaceful for her. Please let this horrible day be the one she remembers least, hates the most and doesn’t dwell on. Nothing could change it but hopefully it was softened by what palliative care can do for families. As I comforted her sister I thought of the picture I saw on April 29 that started my tailspin. It’s a beautiful picture of my mother. I know the look. She knew her picture was being taken. Wasn’t happy about it but gave in to it and braced until it was over. I’m glad she gave in and I’m glad my Aunt…..who has annoyed the living shit out of every member of our family at some point with that camera…..I am so glad she has snapped pictures with all her might. Without her even the sharpest memories would have faded.
I can only hope that when a child watches her mother die peacefully that there is a different recovery and set of memories that accompany that passing as opposed to the child her watches her mother die not so peacefully.
Medicine is funny….people don’t understand that some days and in some situations it’s just another day at the office. We go on autopilot and do our jobs just like everyone else in the world. Then, sometimes when its least expected a patient and their family will transport you to a place that you really didn’t want to go back to - but you could clearly see that in going back to that place could make this “same” event for them different and hopefully….not better…more recoverable. There is no better.
I was recently told that grief doesn’t go away. The cliché about time healing all wounds is just that, cliché. It doesn’t heal the wounds. They stay open they just bleed less. The brilliance of that horror only fades….when we are lucky. What I have found in 12 years is that sometimes the grief fades into the shadows and I don’t even notice it lurking until the day is past. But sometimes, like this year it’s a rattlesnake waiting to strike. This year the rattlesnake let me help someone, some family before it attacked me. The venom, I thought had all but gone, but when she died today it all rushed back into my system……..it’s gonna take a little while for it go again this time.
I know mothers who are an absolute waste of space on the planet and oxygen. And still losing them will hurt their children. So when one goes that was loving and thoughtful, the children who were loved and the children who merely survived are the same. Level playing field. Something not said, good or bad, is left hanging. Some event in the future will happen and there will be someone important missing from the picture.
On Mother’s Day this year….if anyone wants to snap a picture of me I’ll let them. Someday it might be the picture that one of my girls finds out of the blue that makes them glad the picture was taken. And if you have children and they want to take your picture, who cares if you think you’re too fat or too skinny, if you face is breaking out or if you are tired, if you hair is a mess and your makeup is smeared. Who cares? The person looking at that picture with a smile on her face in 12 years may need that picture. Don’t keep it from them.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I miss you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)