The project of the week is SCRAPBOOKING or as I like to call it cementing your past. The problem? it makes me cry. It hurts to look through years of photos of Mom and Pops. Grandparents I never met. Loved ones long gone and missed. Somehow this adventure is supposed to be healthy for my Pops. Make him a collage of things past. I just wonder who’s going to pick up my pieces? the ones that fall away from my heart and have broken all over again? I have photos of my kid sister that I won’t share as if somehow by keeping them only for myself; she lives. Odd I know but it is all I have left of her. I am taking part in this scrap booking project because my Dad needs whatever connections he is capable of making to be made. I will put on a brave face for the man who has given me so much.
Question is, what are you willing to do for someone you love?
I never imagined I would live to this age. I guess part of the blessings of youth is that young people don’t dwell on anything but the present. When’s the next party? the next test? When I used to dream about my future it was always about love. Being in love, finding someone to love, finding someone who would “get” me. I foolishly thought someday my prince would come and that I too would get to live a Disney heroine type of life. Yeah, right. Don’t get me wrong I love my hubby. He loves me but no matter how much I wish it; he is no Prince Charming and I, am no Cinderella. I have always been more of a Maleficent kind of gal. Troubled, misunderstood, longing for that one elusive thing I already have.
I have been at the same job for thirty years. WOW, right? No risk Trish that’s what they should call me. Fear sucks. I am afraid to do something else so I do nothing. I would love to write a book but lack of self belief keeps me from fulfilling a dream. I always thought anger was the most powerful emotional doorstop that a person has to struggle through but that is not the truth. Fear is worse. Fear is an ugly purse you keep in case of an emergency. There are many types of fear. My deepest fear? total failure, loss of everything I think is important to my well being. Each of us carries a bit of fear for various reasons. Some carry fear as a reminder of a past event. How they survived kept in the back of their minds ever ready to present itself like a cigarette incased in glass for a nick of time rescue. Or fear that keeps people just out of range, no attachments necessary, safer that way. Fear is the only emotional state that has its own categories based on levels of irrational thoughts and behaviors. PHOBIAS everyone has them, few like to claim them.
Fear is the hardest thing to push through. Taking action means facing that fear no matter the outcome. I have lived with fear in one form or another since I was a little girl. I was too young once upon a time to realize that my mother had serious mental illness. She is the one who introduced me to fear. She scarred me. I never felt safe in her presence. I never knew what she was capable of doing. She always made sure to remind me in a painful way if I forgot and allowed myself to get to comfortable around her. One misstep and POW. My mother would come at you guns blaring on a mission to make you pay for some transgression real or imagined. I am a grown up now or some semblance there of and yet I have the hardest time when I am fearful, waiting…for the shoe to drop.
Spring is the time of renewal. I love Spring. The longer days, the warmth of the sun, the budding of the trees and the blooming of the flowers put me over the top HAPPY. Yes, I do happy. My life sometimes brims over but who’s doesn’t? Winter this year seemed to be so drawn out. Cold and dreary, difficult times not to sink into a withdrawn emotional state. I am grateful for so many things. I have a job (even if sometimes I hate working). I am loved. My hubby understands me in ways I don’t. My Dad is being taken care of and despite my misgivings he is doing okay. I have a home with my hubby that we love. I have friends that I care about who care about me in return.
I started blogging as a way to vent things out I felt I couldn’t control or change or sometimes as a way to let myself know I am ok; that things are normal. Everyone struggles with life and the things that make life worth getting out of bed for. I would be worried if there were no bumps in the road. I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I give myself credit for. I have a capacity for love I never knew lived inside me. I live my life for me and the people I love.
Feeling happy is a state of mind, a personal journey not a destination. Life is in the taking of risks. Living each day you are given. I used to wonder what “waiting to exhale” actually meant. I get it now. It is that feeling you get when someone startles you. It is the quick draw of breath you take in and are afraid to let go of. Like somehow holding your breath will keep you safer. After a near lifetime of holding my breath I exhaled.
I am OKAY. My life has not always progressed the way I have wanted it to but I march towards a better day, a life worth having. I hope you always have love in your life and people who are wise enough to love you for what you bring into their life YOU.
When I sit down at my laptop to write it is often to compose myself, to take a breath in before I dissolve into tears. I know I am not the only person in the world in pain. I just choose to share mine. I guess that makes me a little different but I have been odd duck out my whole life so it comes easier for me to bear my soul to strangers. I never try to pretend to have the answers for feelings. I hate to know that people I care about in and around my life are feeling distress or sadness. We are all on our own journeys even though we travel the same path. We all experience loss. I can not keep anyone from knowing it. I wish I could keep you from sadness but your pain is not mine to shoulder. I can only hold your hand, wipe our tears and hope that tomorrow will shine brighter for us all. I don’t think I have ever said thank you to those of you that take the time to read my posts. I am grateful and your feedback has been amazing.
I am just one voice in the night trying to hold on until morning. EVERDAY
really? I try to go see Dad everyday. I am his link to his world. The life he once lived in, loved in, laughed in. I can tell you with all honesty it is the toughest part of my day. I hate to cry. I hate feeling open and vulnerable. Yesterday was hard for me. I had my afternoon coffee fix and prepped a bag to bring to Pops. I kissed my hubby and off I went. Dad was not in a good place. The nurse on duty pulled me aside to inform me that Dad had been grumpy and short (my Mom was grumpy and short but I think she meant Dad was out of sorts ?)
Pops contacted a cold from one of the other patients who likes to kiss the boys and make them cry. There is nothing I can really do about those behaviors so I let Pops be. The nurse I spoke with assured me Dad had been getting cold meds and seemed to be getting better except for his demeanor. She asked me if I had any ideas as to why Pops suddenly seemed angry. I am not sure how much any of you really understand dementia. A person who lives with dementia has their own sense of reality and most likely you are not invited so you have to learn to watch for the signs. Any time my Dad is in pain or has a fever he gets angry, really angry. I informed the nurse that Pops has a history of bladder/urinary problems and infections and sometimes that is enough to send him to Anger Land.
I feel like the outsider now. If pops were home I would have simply called his Dr. and scheduled a urinalysis and a meet and greet to check his vitals. Doctor appointments change when your loved one lives in a nursing home. Someone on staff calls a nurse. The nurse does a quick assessment and then decides whether or not to contact the Dr. or nurse practitioner. Tests were ordered for Dad. I think he is having a urinary tract infection or a flair up with his rheumatoid arthritis.
I left Pops shortly after his supper. I left distracted, angry, scared and plain SAD. I jumped into my Jeep and blindly drove away. Away. Far away. I was nearly into West Boylston before I realized I had no idea where I was going or why I was going. I can’t outrun my Pops’ decline. It is what it is. In my face, part of my life everyday. It sucks. It wears me down and leaves me feeling lonely and vulnerable unable to fix what has gone so wrong.
On any lazy afternoon sun beating down I would find a reason to run from the house out to the backyard to the path that led to Big Rock. Big Rock had a flat ledge you could walk out onto. If you were careful and the sun had been out long enough you might just find the right spot to place your jacket to cloud surf and day dream. The rock warm from the sun and the sky so vibrant blue it hurt your eyes. I loved running to that rock when I needed to feel free. It’s funny how the world seems magical when you are seven. Everything is possible. You can be a princess or a model or a mad scientist. Your parents arms around you make you feel safe and protected and you know in your heart they will always be a shout away.
I would trade everything I have if I could feel like again. Carefree, wrapped in a blanket of naïve. Not knowing the road of life gets rough. To believe that if I want something enough anything is possible. I want to look skyward, cloud surf and dream.
IF. Who knew a tiny word could cause such big problems? Life is fluid just like quicksand. Both look and feel like solid ground but sometimes the slightest wrong move gives you that sinking feeling. I have been stuck for a very long time afraid to make a wrong move. What IF I fail? What IF I don’t ? What IF truth be told I have come to believe that I don’t have it in me? What IF I am trying desperately to change the unchangeable? You know what I am talking about. You can’t change a tiger’s stripes or a leopard’s spots. I started writing a blog to help me help myself. I toyed with the idea of having followers but never really put much faith into that notion. Now I have followers. You make me nervous. Yes, you out there just beyond my senses. What if I don’t write often enough? will you leave? What if I run out of things to fight with myself over? what then? What if I just crawl back outside of my own head, follow my instincts and just let my thoughts take me where they may? Why not? It has worked well for me so far. I am writing this for me after all. I just let you peer over my shoulder to check my grammar. =)
That’s my problem I spend way to much time wondering and not enough time doing. I need to get some stuff done. I have clouds to put my head in. I have Spring coming in soon and I am not ready. I am that oak tree stuck in my acorn waiting to emerge from my shell, take root and become magnificent. The story of my life. I have told myself for the better part of my life that I am a misfit. I don’t belong. I am unwanted. All lies. Lies I tell myself. I am sure most people tell themselves lies just to get through another day. The photos of your life tell you things about yourself you are unwilling to see on your own. If you were to look at mine you would see that I set myself apart from others so I can avoid rejection. Like unplugging the TV before the electricity quits. Who does that? why do I do that? everyone is afraid of rejection, of not fitting in, of being set apart from everyone else we so desperately want to be like. I sabotage myself. I kick me before anyone else can. I am afraid to be happy.
I went to my doctor yesterday. She is worried about me. I am worried about me. I like my doctor. She is kind. She listens. She counsels. She genuinely wants me to turn my path around so my health doesn’t decline any further than I have let it. 10/12/08 I weighed 174lbs. By 03/03/15 yeah ok way more than that. Why? because I threw my success away. I left WWs. I abandoned myself by the side of the road broken down, helpless.
03/03/15
Dear Diet,
I have something to tell you. I cheated on you. I am so sorry. We had some good times you and I. It wasn’t you. You did everything right. You were always right there for me. I am the cause of our failure. Our relationship didn’t last because you worked harder than I did. I lost faith in us. We have not once ever finished our dance. I punish myself the only way I know how. I walked away. I miss you. I miss the way you made me feel like I was alive. You gave me purpose. A dream to pursue. If I told you I was ready to finish our dance would you take me back? do you have enough faith in me? I hope you will always be in my corner, waiting for me to be willing.
Yesterday was rude awakening day for me. I took Pops out for a haircut, lunch and to the optician to pick up his new glasses. My Pops has been in an alternate living situation since right before the Christmas holidays. Yes, that is my fancy way of saying nursing home. Ok, so it is taking me a while in the acceptance department but I am working on it. I am. I promise. I say it was rude awakening day because I guess I never realized before how draining being with my pops can be. I enjoyed his company while I was with him but I felt so tired and sad after I returned him to his place. I am still working on how our relationship has changed. What part I play now versus the role I used to have.
Sometimes the people that a person works with can become like family. Over the years I have grown close to quite a few of my fellow employees. We have formed our own unique family. I would be lost without them. We help each other through some pretty large mine fields of BS. Anyone who works for their $$ knows what I am saying without having to put it to words. More importantly my framily have been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. I like to think I have provided them that same support. The flip side of that closeness however, is that one or two people that runs through the vein in everyone’s family tree; the nay sayer, the contrary Mary, that one person who makes it their personal mission to tear people down.
I have personality quirks, who doesn’t? When someone goes out of their way to sting home a point, I hold onto those biting words, turning the selfhate over and over in my mind trying to figure out why or what I did to this person to make them act this way towards me. I believe that her personal burdens of hurt, anger and disappointment run deep. Striking out at me eases her own self loathing I am guessing or perhaps it may fuel it. Either way I have been a willing target. It is my own fault. This person pretends to want closeness and friends but strikes out at people to keep them at arms length. She can be helpful as long as you are on guard for the payment she seeks. That jibe to your personality that she just can’t stomach. You’re too negative, or too funny or too cute or too smart. I have never met anyone like her and I hope someday to leave her and her pettiness behind. As I try to come to terms with what is going on with my Dad her words roll around in my head like an old album with a skip that you are sure won’t ruin the soundtrack. That skip bothers me a lot. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU CAN’T USE YOUR DAD AS AN EXCUSE ANYMORE? hurtful, uncompassionate, cutting and true.
I put my life on hold to take care of my Dad. In more than a few ways he did become my excuses. I couldn’t go away for any length of time. I had to have a cell phone for those in case moments. I lost time from my job to run errands for him and take him to appointments. I lost time with my hubby and my friends. I forgot how to be in my own life. What am I going to do now that I can’t use Dad as an excuse? I honestly have no idea. I can read a book now whenever I want. I can go to dinner and a movie with friends. I can go on long walks in the evening with my bestie. I am free to become that girl I have always wanted to be. TruthI am going to work on the things I want to be and the things I want for myself. Every new day opens with endless possibilities for amazing things to happen.
Our relationship has once again repositioned itself. I tread unfamiliar ground. How childlike my Dad has become in such a short span of time. I was growing so weary in my role as primary caregiver. I never had any real amount of time off from my duties. Dad was ever needy. On his good days though what fun we would have. I like to believe that he looked forward to seeing me everyday. We had a routine. I would come home from work, start coffee, hit the bathroom and get ready to go out the door to Dad’s. Some days Pop even waited long enough for me to be almost done with my afternoon prep before he’d start ringing my phones. He would sometimes call every thee minutes, not absorbing enough info from the first six calls. Some days I would find it amusing, others infuriating. I could always hear the angst in his voice when he was feeling afraid or uncertain. I looked forward to the calls where he would call jovial and mischievous.
Christmas time is not easy for me. I feel alone in the world, without a connection to the family I once had. I felt even more off balance this year with my life and Dad’s being set aflutter on the winds of change. I know in my heart of hearts he is being looked after and taken care of but I miss the old goat. I thought that when the time arrived and the day passed when my phone no longer rang, I would finally know peace. Why don’t I feel that way? Why? I am sad. I am angry. I am suffering from decision remorse. I am having regrets about doing the right thing. You know they say you can’t unboil an egg. I might as well come to terms with what has happened.
I try to go see Dad every night and help him with supper. His face lights up when I enter the room. He always thanks me for coming, like I have been away on a long voyage. I greet everyone with the warmest hello and smile I can muster. The conversation I have with Dad is generally the same every night. How is your old man? How is everyone else? How is work? When can I live with you? Why can’t I go home? Am I sleeping here tonight? How long have I been here? Do I have to sleep in the attic? Do they have a bathroom in here? I reassure him the best I can but I see the pain in his face. I feel he is nervous almost afraid. It is hard for me to cover my own misgivings about this new adventure we are on. I sing for him. I hold in my tears. I joke with him. I owe him so much. I love him. I give him what I have; me. I hope it is enough.
notsolargemarge 