When I was in court and the judge threw Bill, the terminal cancer patient, out of the house and gave me possession of it, I was very surprised. I knew I was also in a big fight, a fight with the person who had been the love of my life and had been my soulmate for a quarter of a century. I was learning that passing a certain time period in marriage did not guarantee that marriage's success. I had always promised myself that I wouldn't look at marriage as an endurance contest. I promised myself that I would never be so proud that I would tout my years of marriage as an accomplishment if that marriage wasn't making me happy. With that in mind, it should be no surprise that I forgot many of our wedding anniversaries. That day in court was only the beginning of a lot of grief, both emotionally and financially.
When the judge set down his decision, I was stunned. I had already started to see that this 'law thing' was a new world for me, a world I didn't understand. This world had a language and a set of rules all its own, and those rules in particular defied my sense of logic. I was sure the judge was going to rule against me because Bill had cancer. I had already started thinking about where I would look for an apartment or a condo where Dad and I could live. I thought the judge would deem us the healthy, mobile ones, and Bill the one least capable of setting up a new living environment on his own. Cancer would trump old age, I thought. Forget the lies Bill had told him about me. I thought the judge would buy the cancer card. I was already mentally packing.
When the decision was rendered, my attorney grabbed my hand and said, "You've won. You've been completely vindicated!" I went out of the courtroom and sat on the bench. I called Laura. Sobbing, I told her that no matter how much I have to go through to get this divorce, she was worth all of it. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and for that reason alone, I was glad I had been in what had been a tough and unsatisfying marriage for 22 years.
Now that she lives with me, I am able to see the person she has become. She has his self-confident spirit. She stands up for herself and, dare I say, I think she has the upper hand in the relationship with Kyle. She is not a wallflower; she's assertive and doesn't take anybody's bull. She can return things at a store. She can argue with customer service, she can argue with anyone she feels is worth it. She's pretty good at recognizing a fool when she sees one, and expresses herself appropriately and exceedingly well. These are the qualities she gets from Bill. Physically she has his eyes, his mouth and his hair. She's smart but doesn't test well and didn't feel she was ready for college when she graduated from high school, much to my dismay. These are also reminiscent of Bill.
How does she resemble her mother? What of ME is in her? She has my coloring. She is tall like I am, taller in fact (probably all those hormone-laden foods, no?). In fact, she has my mother's skin. She can't get a tan no matter what she does. She battles with her weight. In fact, she is an inch taller than I am and is 30 pounds heavier. But I don't bug her about her weight. I don't want her to have negative issues about her body. But she's heavy and it is slightly uncomfortable for me to see her that way. She likes to look good. She always wears make-up. She is friendly and great with kids. I love to hear her talking to the children. I wish I had had that good a way with children when I was 21. She is a professional through and through. I am extremely proud of her. Did I get to the part where I tell how she resembles me? I don't think so. It's too close for me to get a thorough perspective.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Sex on Fire
I love the Kings of Leon song, "Sex on Fire". It's loud and beautiful and has pounding, driving lines that musically represent how my body and mind function when I am passionately in love. The lead guitar, drums, vocals all pulsate passion. Passion. How I miss passion. When I give my mind, spirit, and body to someone, it engulfs me. It is the most intense feeling I have ever had. All-consuming. Yep, that sex is on fire. I can't imagine any drug could ever possibly feel as good as that.
Today I was reminded of how it felt when I first fell in love with Bill. It seemed to be a meshing of my being with his. There was a kind of electricity that made every moment together feel like life was perfect, that being in each other's presence was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I needed to sustain me. It must be from this feeling that my mother used to say, "You can't live on love alone." Moments like those that make me think she was wrong. Every second without him lasted too long. It just felt wrong. Everything he said, everything he did, every time he touched me felt ......perfect. Those are the times when the best use of a day is to stay in bed and make love over and over and over again, to bring in food on trays and eat in the sheets. Time can go by, friends can be forgotten, lame excuses can be made for not being places, the time and passion were all I needed. Those were the days. I couldn't imagine my life without him. We could sit and talk for hours. That aspect lasted throughout our marriage. He had an ability to peer inside my soul, to comprehend and empathize with all I said or felt. He could make me relax, he could make me laugh, he could take me to emotional regions I had never before known. We had so many commonalities in our upbringings. In time we realized that our families were even from the same area. We both had an alcoholic parent, had been from similar socioeconomic backgrounds, and had grown up in similar communities. And it was based on all that----and on the idea that Bill was going got be an attorney and provide well for us----I thought marrying him was my destiny.
Apart from those similarities, our differences also looked like they balanced our relationship in such a way that his strengths were in areas where I was weak, and I was strong in areas where he was not. He brought an excitement to my life that I cannot deny were exhilarating, seductive, and a refreshing change from not only my previous marriage but my entire background. He surfed, he camped, he fished, he flew airplanes, he had a motorcycle, sophisticated cameras, skied, he had run a successful business and had bought and sold properties, off of whose sales he was now living and putting himself through law school. He exhibited an enthusiasm and an undaunted attitude toward new things. When he wanted to learn something new, he bought a book about it and taught himself how to do it. And here was another important but odd thing: he would buy things and not hesitate to return them. Why was this important? It represented his way of taking the reins and being in charge of his life. Nobody I had lived with, I mean Nobody, had ever had this attitude. When people bought something and they didn't like it, they sucked it up and kept the item. They felt that returning something required a note from the principal. It was a daunting endeavor to return something to a store for any reason at all, even if the thing didn't work right.
I was smitten.
How could that have been wrong, so very very wrong?
Today I was reminded of how it felt when I first fell in love with Bill. It seemed to be a meshing of my being with his. There was a kind of electricity that made every moment together feel like life was perfect, that being in each other's presence was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I needed to sustain me. It must be from this feeling that my mother used to say, "You can't live on love alone." Moments like those that make me think she was wrong. Every second without him lasted too long. It just felt wrong. Everything he said, everything he did, every time he touched me felt ......perfect. Those are the times when the best use of a day is to stay in bed and make love over and over and over again, to bring in food on trays and eat in the sheets. Time can go by, friends can be forgotten, lame excuses can be made for not being places, the time and passion were all I needed. Those were the days. I couldn't imagine my life without him. We could sit and talk for hours. That aspect lasted throughout our marriage. He had an ability to peer inside my soul, to comprehend and empathize with all I said or felt. He could make me relax, he could make me laugh, he could take me to emotional regions I had never before known. We had so many commonalities in our upbringings. In time we realized that our families were even from the same area. We both had an alcoholic parent, had been from similar socioeconomic backgrounds, and had grown up in similar communities. And it was based on all that----and on the idea that Bill was going got be an attorney and provide well for us----I thought marrying him was my destiny.
Apart from those similarities, our differences also looked like they balanced our relationship in such a way that his strengths were in areas where I was weak, and I was strong in areas where he was not. He brought an excitement to my life that I cannot deny were exhilarating, seductive, and a refreshing change from not only my previous marriage but my entire background. He surfed, he camped, he fished, he flew airplanes, he had a motorcycle, sophisticated cameras, skied, he had run a successful business and had bought and sold properties, off of whose sales he was now living and putting himself through law school. He exhibited an enthusiasm and an undaunted attitude toward new things. When he wanted to learn something new, he bought a book about it and taught himself how to do it. And here was another important but odd thing: he would buy things and not hesitate to return them. Why was this important? It represented his way of taking the reins and being in charge of his life. Nobody I had lived with, I mean Nobody, had ever had this attitude. When people bought something and they didn't like it, they sucked it up and kept the item. They felt that returning something required a note from the principal. It was a daunting endeavor to return something to a store for any reason at all, even if the thing didn't work right.
I was smitten.
How could that have been wrong, so very very wrong?
Tuesday Dinner
Laura colored one of my friends' roots. As she was walking my friend out to the car:
Dad: I didn't think she'd ever stop talking.
Kyle: Now, why would you say that?
Dad: She sat there for over an hour and didn't stop talking. Didn't you see it?
Me: Gee, Dad, you say that like it's a bad thing. (Comment gets ignored.)
Kyle: Why would you say that? Your daughter has told you it hurts her feelings when you say that about her friends. It's her house and she feels like she can't have her friends over.
Dad: So now who are YOU? Shall we get a couch here and you analyze me?
Me: You're missing the point, Dad. You say this about every one of my friends and it hurts my feelings.
Dad: (to Kyle) I resent that.
Kyle: Are you serving cheese with that wine?
Me: Let me bring the wine.
Is the futility of a negative mindset lost on my dad? What does he hope to accomplish by saying that about my friends? Does his not being the center of attention activate his mean-bone? Is this an example of his frustration with 1)not being the center of attention and 2)not being---due to his failing mind and poor hearing---able to keep up with the conversation?
Tonight Kyle and Laura talked it over with me. We have agreed that, from now on, when I have a friend over, I will tell Dad: "My friend, ____, is coming over. You are welcome to join us but we are going to talk a lot and you won't be in control of the conversation. If you don't like how much they talk, I don't want to hear it from you. If you don't want to join us, I'll understand, and Carmi can give you your dinner in the living room. If you try it tonight and the experience is too unpleasant for you, you don't have to join us in the future." It sounds a little tough but I have to make these boundaries with him or I will find myself living in a household with someone who has made capricious rules with which I don't want to comply. And I just got myself out of that kind of a relationship in my home. I owe it to myself not to let it happen again.
Dad: I didn't think she'd ever stop talking.
Kyle: Now, why would you say that?
Dad: She sat there for over an hour and didn't stop talking. Didn't you see it?
Me: Gee, Dad, you say that like it's a bad thing. (Comment gets ignored.)
Kyle: Why would you say that? Your daughter has told you it hurts her feelings when you say that about her friends. It's her house and she feels like she can't have her friends over.
Dad: So now who are YOU? Shall we get a couch here and you analyze me?
Me: You're missing the point, Dad. You say this about every one of my friends and it hurts my feelings.
Dad: (to Kyle) I resent that.
Kyle: Are you serving cheese with that wine?
Me: Let me bring the wine.
Is the futility of a negative mindset lost on my dad? What does he hope to accomplish by saying that about my friends? Does his not being the center of attention activate his mean-bone? Is this an example of his frustration with 1)not being the center of attention and 2)not being---due to his failing mind and poor hearing---able to keep up with the conversation?
Tonight Kyle and Laura talked it over with me. We have agreed that, from now on, when I have a friend over, I will tell Dad: "My friend, ____, is coming over. You are welcome to join us but we are going to talk a lot and you won't be in control of the conversation. If you don't like how much they talk, I don't want to hear it from you. If you don't want to join us, I'll understand, and Carmi can give you your dinner in the living room. If you try it tonight and the experience is too unpleasant for you, you don't have to join us in the future." It sounds a little tough but I have to make these boundaries with him or I will find myself living in a household with someone who has made capricious rules with which I don't want to comply. And I just got myself out of that kind of a relationship in my home. I owe it to myself not to let it happen again.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
It Will Happen
My attorney called the other day. He wanted to know what would be a good day to schedule Bill's depo.
"Do we really have to do this? What will we accomplish by it?"
"I want him to make an accounting of his expenses. I want to know what kind of debt he has incurred. And I'm going to ask for a copy of his new will and the changes he made to the trust."
"Let's don't forget about the lien he and his attorney put on the house."
Shoot! Just when I thought I could cancel this thing, he shoots the silver bullet. It is the perfect solution to the 'will dilemna' we've been having. The production makes it mandatory. It will be a big topic of conversation, no doubt. I hope we can make it a deal-breaker for a settlement. I will, as a mother, do what I have to, in order to ensure that my daughter becomes his beneficiary to spare her the pain of being told by her father upon his death he did not want to provide for her. He never provided for her in life; he needs to in death. I won't agree to a settlement, I'll drag my feet, until he rewrites. And I know that will be unacceptable to him because he wants a settlement before summer. He wants to buy a house out in the desert with the cash I give him. If I make that settlement contingent on his change of the will, then he'll be motivated to do it.
"Do we really have to do this? What will we accomplish by it?"
"I want him to make an accounting of his expenses. I want to know what kind of debt he has incurred. And I'm going to ask for a copy of his new will and the changes he made to the trust."
"Let's don't forget about the lien he and his attorney put on the house."
Shoot! Just when I thought I could cancel this thing, he shoots the silver bullet. It is the perfect solution to the 'will dilemna' we've been having. The production makes it mandatory. It will be a big topic of conversation, no doubt. I hope we can make it a deal-breaker for a settlement. I will, as a mother, do what I have to, in order to ensure that my daughter becomes his beneficiary to spare her the pain of being told by her father upon his death he did not want to provide for her. He never provided for her in life; he needs to in death. I won't agree to a settlement, I'll drag my feet, until he rewrites. And I know that will be unacceptable to him because he wants a settlement before summer. He wants to buy a house out in the desert with the cash I give him. If I make that settlement contingent on his change of the will, then he'll be motivated to do it.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Thursday Morning
Recess:
J:"I got my PET scan results yesterday. My tumors have grown like they're on steroids. Where there used to be three there are now six, and they have doubled in size. They're growing fast."
C:"No." (Oh, Lord, why can't I be eloquent?) "Did you start that new chemo yesterday? Do they think that will help?"
J:"This new chemo works only if you have time on your side. It takes months to be effective. They're probably not going to go through with the whole treatment. My tumors are growing too fast."
C:"What did they tell you to do?"
J:"They told me to quit working. I told them they better have some damn good reason because that isn't going to happen unless I literally can't get out of bed."
C: "Why do they want you to quit?"
J: "To sit at home and think about my cancer."
C: "No no no."
J: "Can you believe my fucking husband is going to outlive me?"
WHAT!???? I thought you loved your husband. Oh, right. You were separated for over a year. Yep, he's the nicest person on the planet but he has his nebish-like qualities. Marvin Milktoast sometimes, but a nice guy. Kind of a kid with financial matters and he doesn't clean up after himself but he balances you out. You both have had affairs but I thought you had worked it out after the separation.
Oh, sheesh, what do I know? I know you just told me you have been given a death sentence yet I can't absorb this news. I am doing that denial thing I do. I cannot accept this news. You are walking. You are talking. You are working. You are dying. It doesn't make sense to me and I don't know how to store this information. And I most definitely can't make a mental picture of what is going to happen to you. You and I. You and I ----- we've had this really strange and rare friendship that started as pure disgust on my part. You were the person who would greet me with a hug and then tell me I was an airhead. You were the one who would chew me out in the lounge but would write me a letter telling me how unprofessional I was the time I was upset you lined my kids up long before lunch playtime was over. You were the one who made me feel like there were always two ways to do things: your way and the wrong way. We didn't get along for the first 13 years we knew each other. Then you had marriage problems followed immediately by cancer, and suddenly you softened. You gained a capacity to understand human frailty and why people stay in imperfect relationships. You relaxed. You started accepting the rest of us. You reached out; I responded. Our friendship grew, and I started to love your presence in my life. We accepted each other's ways and collaborated on a lot of work, especially for our summer school program and our grade level. You are the organized one; I am the creative one. Now you have told me you are dying, and I can't accept it. There is a cognitive dissonance I don't understand, I can't absorb, I can't fathom. Yet you have told me that my life is, once again, on course for grief,and there is nothing I can do to derail it. The doctors give you less than six months to live. I look across the playground at your room and feel this strange impending doom. Please tell me it isn't true. Please tell me you're going to live. If you die, I'll never be able to look across that yard without sobbing. Please don't die. Please don't die.
The next day you turned 45. Was this your last birthday? Why is God going to take you and leave two motherless children? If I ever get a chance to talk with God, if He ever deigns to grant me an audience, I will ask him that very question. Why did you take Julie so soon and not Bill?
J:"I got my PET scan results yesterday. My tumors have grown like they're on steroids. Where there used to be three there are now six, and they have doubled in size. They're growing fast."
C:"No." (Oh, Lord, why can't I be eloquent?) "Did you start that new chemo yesterday? Do they think that will help?"
J:"This new chemo works only if you have time on your side. It takes months to be effective. They're probably not going to go through with the whole treatment. My tumors are growing too fast."
C:"What did they tell you to do?"
J:"They told me to quit working. I told them they better have some damn good reason because that isn't going to happen unless I literally can't get out of bed."
C: "Why do they want you to quit?"
J: "To sit at home and think about my cancer."
C: "No no no."
J: "Can you believe my fucking husband is going to outlive me?"
WHAT!???? I thought you loved your husband. Oh, right. You were separated for over a year. Yep, he's the nicest person on the planet but he has his nebish-like qualities. Marvin Milktoast sometimes, but a nice guy. Kind of a kid with financial matters and he doesn't clean up after himself but he balances you out. You both have had affairs but I thought you had worked it out after the separation.
Oh, sheesh, what do I know? I know you just told me you have been given a death sentence yet I can't absorb this news. I am doing that denial thing I do. I cannot accept this news. You are walking. You are talking. You are working. You are dying. It doesn't make sense to me and I don't know how to store this information. And I most definitely can't make a mental picture of what is going to happen to you. You and I. You and I ----- we've had this really strange and rare friendship that started as pure disgust on my part. You were the person who would greet me with a hug and then tell me I was an airhead. You were the one who would chew me out in the lounge but would write me a letter telling me how unprofessional I was the time I was upset you lined my kids up long before lunch playtime was over. You were the one who made me feel like there were always two ways to do things: your way and the wrong way. We didn't get along for the first 13 years we knew each other. Then you had marriage problems followed immediately by cancer, and suddenly you softened. You gained a capacity to understand human frailty and why people stay in imperfect relationships. You relaxed. You started accepting the rest of us. You reached out; I responded. Our friendship grew, and I started to love your presence in my life. We accepted each other's ways and collaborated on a lot of work, especially for our summer school program and our grade level. You are the organized one; I am the creative one. Now you have told me you are dying, and I can't accept it. There is a cognitive dissonance I don't understand, I can't absorb, I can't fathom. Yet you have told me that my life is, once again, on course for grief,and there is nothing I can do to derail it. The doctors give you less than six months to live. I look across the playground at your room and feel this strange impending doom. Please tell me it isn't true. Please tell me you're going to live. If you die, I'll never be able to look across that yard without sobbing. Please don't die. Please don't die.
The next day you turned 45. Was this your last birthday? Why is God going to take you and leave two motherless children? If I ever get a chance to talk with God, if He ever deigns to grant me an audience, I will ask him that very question. Why did you take Julie so soon and not Bill?
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Haunted
This has been a rather uneventful week,thankfully. Dad has behaved. Kyle confronted him at the dinner table on Tuesday night when Dad tried to make a comment about how much wine he was drinking. He had bought some little tumbler with liquid measurements going up the side. He said something to the effect that he didn't want Kyle to complain about how much wine he drinks. Ah, but the problem with Kyle wasn't about how MUCH wine he drinks but about WHEN he drinks that wine. Kyle told him not to bait him. I think that shocked Dad. He's so used to making little digs that draw no response that he doesn't know how to flat-out talk about conflict. He hasn't said a thing unkind to Kyle since then. Maybe that's what we should do: call him on it.
Bill has been in the hospital for several days now. They thought the radiation seeds he had had caused a blood vessel or an artery to somehow leak. Is that possible? I hear that when arteries have a leak they squirt all over. Bill would be dead of internal bleeding by now if it had been an artery. He had a procedure of some sort in the middle of the week but it didn't stop the bleeding. He's been in the hospital for at least 5 days and who knows how much longer he'll be there? He has an older woman who lost her husband to cancer about six months ago. She drove him to the hospital. If he's her lover, that's fine with me. Lucky her. On some levels, especially the sex one. All I would add is to tell her to hang on to her credit cards. Tightly.
My friend's husband died. I met her in the cancer support group and enjoy her so much. At the time I met her, she thought his cancer was in remission, under control. A couple of months later his CT scan showed metastatic cancer in the lungs. She and he got married in October so that when he passed she would have some say in what happens to him. Money wasn't an issue; they don't have any. She's been unemployed for over a year and he hadn't been able to work for the past couple of years. The memorial service will be at the same place where they got married, at Wednesday Vespers, just like their wedding. It was touching. They got married at a Catholic Worker where they had met and fallen in love. Now they will say goodbye there. I was very moved by the way she let people know what was going on. She said, on Facebook, 'for those of you who know me, we are now reaching the end of a long journey and are getting ready to transition'. And last Sunday he passed. I have been so sad for her, thinking about how she had waited until she was forty-five to get married and then have him pass within five months. It seems almost cruel. She never wanted children; she has a pacemaker without which her heart would only beat about twice a minute. She wears them out and they have to be replaced. She's on her third one now. She never would have been able to bear a child. She married late because she never found the right person. And she had been a beauty queen when she was a young woman. I admire the strong sense of self she has. Imagine, never feeling compelled to marry.
Now, though, I am haunted by the thought of Bill being alone in the final days of his life. I look back at the last nine months and think, "What the hell happened?" How did this twenty-two year marriage implode like it did? I honestly thought that if I had asked Bill to protect me from gambling, especially in light of how much support I had given him throughout not only this recent cancer but through all the crazy things he had done and had been done to him over these years. that he would have gladly done something. I really, really thought I had enough brownie points. And he doesn't even remember the conversation where he told me he wanted a divorce. HE DOESN'T REMEMBER! As many would say, "He has a disease. He's a damaged person." Others say, "He made his choice. It's completely his fault. He has no one to blame but himself." Tonight one of my best friends said, "Don't you DARE waste one second feeling sorry for him. If you ever start feeling that way just call me on my cell. He made his choice. It is NOT your fault. Not ANY of it." But it doesn't stop me from being sad that he will be alone during his final days. It haunts me.
Bill has been in the hospital for several days now. They thought the radiation seeds he had had caused a blood vessel or an artery to somehow leak. Is that possible? I hear that when arteries have a leak they squirt all over. Bill would be dead of internal bleeding by now if it had been an artery. He had a procedure of some sort in the middle of the week but it didn't stop the bleeding. He's been in the hospital for at least 5 days and who knows how much longer he'll be there? He has an older woman who lost her husband to cancer about six months ago. She drove him to the hospital. If he's her lover, that's fine with me. Lucky her. On some levels, especially the sex one. All I would add is to tell her to hang on to her credit cards. Tightly.
My friend's husband died. I met her in the cancer support group and enjoy her so much. At the time I met her, she thought his cancer was in remission, under control. A couple of months later his CT scan showed metastatic cancer in the lungs. She and he got married in October so that when he passed she would have some say in what happens to him. Money wasn't an issue; they don't have any. She's been unemployed for over a year and he hadn't been able to work for the past couple of years. The memorial service will be at the same place where they got married, at Wednesday Vespers, just like their wedding. It was touching. They got married at a Catholic Worker where they had met and fallen in love. Now they will say goodbye there. I was very moved by the way she let people know what was going on. She said, on Facebook, 'for those of you who know me, we are now reaching the end of a long journey and are getting ready to transition'. And last Sunday he passed. I have been so sad for her, thinking about how she had waited until she was forty-five to get married and then have him pass within five months. It seems almost cruel. She never wanted children; she has a pacemaker without which her heart would only beat about twice a minute. She wears them out and they have to be replaced. She's on her third one now. She never would have been able to bear a child. She married late because she never found the right person. And she had been a beauty queen when she was a young woman. I admire the strong sense of self she has. Imagine, never feeling compelled to marry.
Now, though, I am haunted by the thought of Bill being alone in the final days of his life. I look back at the last nine months and think, "What the hell happened?" How did this twenty-two year marriage implode like it did? I honestly thought that if I had asked Bill to protect me from gambling, especially in light of how much support I had given him throughout not only this recent cancer but through all the crazy things he had done and had been done to him over these years. that he would have gladly done something. I really, really thought I had enough brownie points. And he doesn't even remember the conversation where he told me he wanted a divorce. HE DOESN'T REMEMBER! As many would say, "He has a disease. He's a damaged person." Others say, "He made his choice. It's completely his fault. He has no one to blame but himself." Tonight one of my best friends said, "Don't you DARE waste one second feeling sorry for him. If you ever start feeling that way just call me on my cell. He made his choice. It is NOT your fault. Not ANY of it." But it doesn't stop me from being sad that he will be alone during his final days. It haunts me.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Oh, No! More Dad!
Oh, Lord have mercy on me. Did I do something so horrible in my earlier years that I am being punished? I used to tell my sister that she was from a Mexican orphanage. I don't know what possessed a six-year-old to say that to her four-year-old sister. But once I saw her reaction to it, I couldn't let it go. I built on it. She tanned easily, had brown hair and dark eyes. I would embellish the story as the years went by. She would get sooooo upset. Am I paying for it now?
Dad rides again! He is transferring his hatred of Bill onto Kyle. And the tension returns to the household. If Kyle so much as questions Dad's behavior, Dad is all over him. And Dad, when he gets angry, is relentless now. He hasn't always been this way but I have seen this creep into his behavior over the years. He used to be that way only about strong and successful businesswomen. He had some choice names for them. I have watched this; these types of women are terribly threatening to Dad. I have sensed that they are just plain unacceptable to him. He has no room in his brain to accommodate them. After all, he is a misogynist underneath it all. When men come into our household, Dad's first reaction is to go to them whenever he needs help. Through the years he has developed a pattern of building people up and then expecting them to let him have his subtle control over them. I saw this in his relationship with Bill and now with Kyle. At first he thinks they're wonderful; he's so grateful for all they do. But then, in time, he sees that they are strong personalities, alpha dogs. And suddenly it's no longer working for him. He turns on them. There isn't enough he can criticize. And I become the recipient of all his vitriol.
On Saturday Dad was trying to get the relief caregiver to fetch his wine at 3:30 instead of the regular 5:00. The caregiver was gently protesting and Kyle heard Dad tell him to do what he says because that's why he pays him. Oh! Uncomfortable for the caregiver.....Kyle asked Dad if he was supposed to be drinking so early in the day. Kyle's voice is very strong and he doesn't kowtow to Dad. Dad got livid.
On Sunday Dad tried to tell me about it. He thought he'd just have a glass of wine. He thought it would help him sleep. He's 90 years old, why not? Who is Kyle, a 23-year-old to tell him, a 90-year-old what he can and cannot do? He was treating Dad like a naughty little boy. I told Dad that was 'inference'. Kyle wasn't 'saying' he's a naughty boy, Dad's mind was assigning that meaning to Kyle's words via inference. Dad didn't quite get my definition of inference. He doesn't like Kyle butting into his business. Well, he was treating me like a naughty boy. That's inference, Dad. All he asked was a question, 'is it a good idea to be drinking at 3:30 in the afternoon?' Wine has never helped you sleep. Never. It just messes with your balance and with your thinking.
More of same today. Carmi, the regular caregiver, was on a business call with her brother---long distance. Dad kept carping at her to get off the phone. She doesn't do that very often. But he wasn't going to have it today. It was upsetting Carmi. Kyle started speaking to Carmi,asking her if she was all right, when Dad came into the kitchen and told him to get out of his business.
What does this mean? Is Dad now going to become mean and demanding? My sister says that no matter where Dad lives, he's going to make the environment toxic. How right is she? In my childhood, when my parents were married, my dad was mean. He couldn't force something nice to come out of his mouth. My mom knew she could never do anything to gain his approval. I don't know what his memories of that time are, but mine are clear. He was unhappy, he didn't like the life he had made, and when he was at home, no one could please him. Is he reverting back to that person again? Will he try to chase Kyle out of the house now? Kyle is very uncomfortable at the dinner table now. I can feel the tension. He and Dad don't speak to each other. They avoid making eye contact. Kyle holds his head low while he eats. Is what happened with Dad and Bill going to happen with Dad and Kyle now? If so, what can I do to avoid it? I don't want Kyle and Laura to move out. They're great kids and they work hard to do the right thing. Is Kyle misguided in stepping into Dad's business? At what point will Kyle say enough is enough, I'm outta here?
And this brings up another matter: Is there going to be a point where Dad is so mean or so disagreeable that I will want to put him in a rest home? Could it possibly get that bad?
And now for the nagging question: Was Bill right about my dad? Is my dad as big a jerk as Bill said? Is my dad as negative and toxic and destructive as Bill said? I didn't give Bill's comments too much credence. He had/has a way of driving his agenda so hard and so relentlessly that he is not above lying if it means he might get his way. It was a universal quality of Bill's. Lying, if it meant it would get you what you want, was absolutely fine. Somewhere in Bill's past, he developed a pattern of lying and absolving himself of any guilt if the lie got him the results he wanted. Big lies, little lies, harmless lies, white lies, lies of omission---all were totally okay if,in the end, Bill got what Bill wanted. So, did he LIE about my dad, or did he EXAGGERATE about my dad? I think I might be finding out it might be neither. It might just be a slight exaggeration. My dad might really be somewhat of the jerk Bill said he was.
Dad rides again! He is transferring his hatred of Bill onto Kyle. And the tension returns to the household. If Kyle so much as questions Dad's behavior, Dad is all over him. And Dad, when he gets angry, is relentless now. He hasn't always been this way but I have seen this creep into his behavior over the years. He used to be that way only about strong and successful businesswomen. He had some choice names for them. I have watched this; these types of women are terribly threatening to Dad. I have sensed that they are just plain unacceptable to him. He has no room in his brain to accommodate them. After all, he is a misogynist underneath it all. When men come into our household, Dad's first reaction is to go to them whenever he needs help. Through the years he has developed a pattern of building people up and then expecting them to let him have his subtle control over them. I saw this in his relationship with Bill and now with Kyle. At first he thinks they're wonderful; he's so grateful for all they do. But then, in time, he sees that they are strong personalities, alpha dogs. And suddenly it's no longer working for him. He turns on them. There isn't enough he can criticize. And I become the recipient of all his vitriol.
On Saturday Dad was trying to get the relief caregiver to fetch his wine at 3:30 instead of the regular 5:00. The caregiver was gently protesting and Kyle heard Dad tell him to do what he says because that's why he pays him. Oh! Uncomfortable for the caregiver.....Kyle asked Dad if he was supposed to be drinking so early in the day. Kyle's voice is very strong and he doesn't kowtow to Dad. Dad got livid.
On Sunday Dad tried to tell me about it. He thought he'd just have a glass of wine. He thought it would help him sleep. He's 90 years old, why not? Who is Kyle, a 23-year-old to tell him, a 90-year-old what he can and cannot do? He was treating Dad like a naughty little boy. I told Dad that was 'inference'. Kyle wasn't 'saying' he's a naughty boy, Dad's mind was assigning that meaning to Kyle's words via inference. Dad didn't quite get my definition of inference. He doesn't like Kyle butting into his business. Well, he was treating me like a naughty boy. That's inference, Dad. All he asked was a question, 'is it a good idea to be drinking at 3:30 in the afternoon?' Wine has never helped you sleep. Never. It just messes with your balance and with your thinking.
More of same today. Carmi, the regular caregiver, was on a business call with her brother---long distance. Dad kept carping at her to get off the phone. She doesn't do that very often. But he wasn't going to have it today. It was upsetting Carmi. Kyle started speaking to Carmi,asking her if she was all right, when Dad came into the kitchen and told him to get out of his business.
What does this mean? Is Dad now going to become mean and demanding? My sister says that no matter where Dad lives, he's going to make the environment toxic. How right is she? In my childhood, when my parents were married, my dad was mean. He couldn't force something nice to come out of his mouth. My mom knew she could never do anything to gain his approval. I don't know what his memories of that time are, but mine are clear. He was unhappy, he didn't like the life he had made, and when he was at home, no one could please him. Is he reverting back to that person again? Will he try to chase Kyle out of the house now? Kyle is very uncomfortable at the dinner table now. I can feel the tension. He and Dad don't speak to each other. They avoid making eye contact. Kyle holds his head low while he eats. Is what happened with Dad and Bill going to happen with Dad and Kyle now? If so, what can I do to avoid it? I don't want Kyle and Laura to move out. They're great kids and they work hard to do the right thing. Is Kyle misguided in stepping into Dad's business? At what point will Kyle say enough is enough, I'm outta here?
And this brings up another matter: Is there going to be a point where Dad is so mean or so disagreeable that I will want to put him in a rest home? Could it possibly get that bad?
And now for the nagging question: Was Bill right about my dad? Is my dad as big a jerk as Bill said? Is my dad as negative and toxic and destructive as Bill said? I didn't give Bill's comments too much credence. He had/has a way of driving his agenda so hard and so relentlessly that he is not above lying if it means he might get his way. It was a universal quality of Bill's. Lying, if it meant it would get you what you want, was absolutely fine. Somewhere in Bill's past, he developed a pattern of lying and absolving himself of any guilt if the lie got him the results he wanted. Big lies, little lies, harmless lies, white lies, lies of omission---all were totally okay if,in the end, Bill got what Bill wanted. So, did he LIE about my dad, or did he EXAGGERATE about my dad? I think I might be finding out it might be neither. It might just be a slight exaggeration. My dad might really be somewhat of the jerk Bill said he was.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Depo
Now here's a nice way to waste a pile of money: get two attorneys, one at $300/hour and the other at $350/hour, a court reporter and a couple of people trying to split up their assets. This would be called a 'depo'. At this particular event, one attorney (that would be Bill's) asks the other attorney's client (that would be me) hours and hours of questions while the court reporter transcribes everything that's said and the other attorney is there to protect said client. I figure this debaucle cost at least $750/hour. It was a colossal waste of time. And Money.
The first segment of the day was spent on looking chronologically at the history of how my house was held in title. First it was mine with my father, then mine, then mine with Bill, then mine again, then it was held in the revocable family trust, which of course has now been revoked. Questions were, "Why did you put your husband's name on title in 1989? Why was it put in the trust in 2001?" During this session, my attorney tells me my ex was glaring at me. I don't really know what the other attorney was trying to establish because once we got married the mortgage payments were paid out of my salary which is considered community funds, so it was therefore considered some kind of community property at that point.
We broke for lunch. Bill's attorney suggested a buffet at a hotel across the street. Really? I didn't have much of an appetite. My attorney and I went there and I ordered a salad. I knew Bill wouldn't go because he can't digest much. He's got internal bleeding of some sort and they can't find the cause of it. He has told our child the bleeding will stop on its own in a couple of months. In the meantime he is extremely weak and has to get weekly blood transfusions and I don't believe his explanation at all. I think the tumor is still strangling the superior mesenteric artery thus cutting off blood flow to the lower intestines and possibly killing tissue. He could be dying from the inside out. It would be sad if he were to die within the next few weeks, especially if he hasn't written a new will.
After lunch the focus became my checking account, also known as Grand Central Station. What comes in? What goes out? What are my sources of income? How are my dad's caregivers paid? How much? Where are those in my dad's bank statements? Am I still paying the auto insurance? Do I still have my life insurance policy? Is Bill still the beneficiary? Good news on the life insurance front. I checked the policy this summer after my attorney told me I couldn't change the beneficiary once I was in the throes of a divorce. I discovered that at some point in the past I had made Laura the beneficiary. I didn't look at Bill's face when I said that in the depo. I said that I hadn't made the change in the past few years; I quite honestly don't know when I made that change. But I'm glad I did.
The final part of the day was on the family trust and my income and expense report. According to his attorney, I make $3000 less a month than expenses I have. Was I charging my dad enough money to stay in the house? Who sleeps in which bedrooms? What's he getting at? Are they going to suggest I take a renter in the tiny middle bedroom? How am I going to make ends meet? How am I going to make ends meet????? What a GOOD QUESTION! I told the guy I honestly didn't know how I was going to make it through the summer. Cash on credit cards? How about skipping the payments to Bill?
My attorney said I didn't make any mistakes that day. But what he didn't say, and I know he wanted me to, was I didn't make more of a point of how we lived beyond our means and that I was always pulling money out of a hat to pay bills. I should have been more specific when I said that I use annual gift money from my dad to pay bills. And what did my spouse do when he got a windfall from his parents? Did he use that to pay any of our bills? If you know Bill, that question answers itself.
The first segment of the day was spent on looking chronologically at the history of how my house was held in title. First it was mine with my father, then mine, then mine with Bill, then mine again, then it was held in the revocable family trust, which of course has now been revoked. Questions were, "Why did you put your husband's name on title in 1989? Why was it put in the trust in 2001?" During this session, my attorney tells me my ex was glaring at me. I don't really know what the other attorney was trying to establish because once we got married the mortgage payments were paid out of my salary which is considered community funds, so it was therefore considered some kind of community property at that point.
We broke for lunch. Bill's attorney suggested a buffet at a hotel across the street. Really? I didn't have much of an appetite. My attorney and I went there and I ordered a salad. I knew Bill wouldn't go because he can't digest much. He's got internal bleeding of some sort and they can't find the cause of it. He has told our child the bleeding will stop on its own in a couple of months. In the meantime he is extremely weak and has to get weekly blood transfusions and I don't believe his explanation at all. I think the tumor is still strangling the superior mesenteric artery thus cutting off blood flow to the lower intestines and possibly killing tissue. He could be dying from the inside out. It would be sad if he were to die within the next few weeks, especially if he hasn't written a new will.
After lunch the focus became my checking account, also known as Grand Central Station. What comes in? What goes out? What are my sources of income? How are my dad's caregivers paid? How much? Where are those in my dad's bank statements? Am I still paying the auto insurance? Do I still have my life insurance policy? Is Bill still the beneficiary? Good news on the life insurance front. I checked the policy this summer after my attorney told me I couldn't change the beneficiary once I was in the throes of a divorce. I discovered that at some point in the past I had made Laura the beneficiary. I didn't look at Bill's face when I said that in the depo. I said that I hadn't made the change in the past few years; I quite honestly don't know when I made that change. But I'm glad I did.
The final part of the day was on the family trust and my income and expense report. According to his attorney, I make $3000 less a month than expenses I have. Was I charging my dad enough money to stay in the house? Who sleeps in which bedrooms? What's he getting at? Are they going to suggest I take a renter in the tiny middle bedroom? How am I going to make ends meet? How am I going to make ends meet????? What a GOOD QUESTION! I told the guy I honestly didn't know how I was going to make it through the summer. Cash on credit cards? How about skipping the payments to Bill?
My attorney said I didn't make any mistakes that day. But what he didn't say, and I know he wanted me to, was I didn't make more of a point of how we lived beyond our means and that I was always pulling money out of a hat to pay bills. I should have been more specific when I said that I use annual gift money from my dad to pay bills. And what did my spouse do when he got a windfall from his parents? Did he use that to pay any of our bills? If you know Bill, that question answers itself.
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