In my early days as a Christian, the pastor once said God doesn't give us any more than He knows we can handle. Trials on this earth are always tough subjects for believers. If I'm a Christian, if I believe God and try to follow His ways, then why do bad things happen to me? Shouldn't the bad people, the wicked, the vicious, have the bad stuff happen to them? If I'm saved and a believer, then don't I get a pass?
Apparently not.
Today I reviewed my FB photos and noticed I posted some from last Easter. A whole year has gone by. And what a year it's been: Cancer, bipolar escalation, accusations, divorce, court, attorneys, attorneys' bills, packing and cataloging, restraining orders, my 90-year-old father, emergency surgery, hospital visits, and wage garnishment. And work. Let's don't forget that little old job that makes my world possible. It seemed that I spent much of this past year in the greatest torment ever. At every turn I faced something I thought was too big for me to handle. And I learned I could handle each horrid thing that came my way. I was pleased the God I love had so much faith in me. "Really?" I'd think. "You REALLY think I can handle THIS too? Wow, God! You must think I am very, very strong. Thanks."
This week more was added. Thanks again. Thank you for the vote of confidence, Lord. But this time I think You hit my limit. All full. No more room for stress. This time I'm out on the ledge and I'm teetering.
First, my sisters are having a 'tough time' with each other. This has been an undercurrent in our lives that hasn't truly been put to rest. We went to lunch to 'clear the air'. I could barely eat. It was so difficult I am not even going to write about it here. I am worried about the future of my siblings' relationships. I am worried about our future get-togethers, and our future as a family. It is already decided that we will NOT have our annual holiday reunion this December, but will move to alternate year reunions, and who knows what will happen after that? The kids are all getting older. They're getting ready to go out in the world. There is little or nothing I can to do heal this sibling conflict. I am deeply concerned.
After my 'sister luncheon', I was drained. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I could barely move. I laid down. Laura and Kyle came to where I was staying. I had missed the kids. I had been at one sister's and they had been at the other's. I didn't know how much of the conflict was being 'shared' with them, and I was nervous they were taking sides. But that quickly became unimportant because the next thing I knew they were telling me Laura is pregnant.
OK, God! Once again, I appreciate the vote of confidence. I don't want to sound ungrateful. But remember me? Nice person, intelligent, decent worker but not exceedingly driven, not a type A, not highly competitive, handles stress BUT DOESN'T LIKE IT? Is this ringing any bells? Well, I just want you to know that's it!!! No more tests of my strength. You've hit it. It's right here. In fact, I think we hit it back there at the luncheon. My bowl of stress did not need extra whipped cream AND a cherry on top. The sister thing maxed me out. I didn't need a pregnant, unwed daughter too. Not fair.
(Dear Reader, now would NOT be the time to give me that tripe about life not being fair.)
There is a wonderful bumper sticker that plays on the children's song "Jesus Loves Me". It says 'Jesus knows me, this I love'. I wonder if Jesus knows me better than I know myself. If this stress stuff ramps up any more than it has, then if Jesus knows me, He should know He better run for cover when I get to heaven cuz I'm gonna punch Him right in the kisser.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Nasty Games
Mark and I have had some great conversations since I've been here. The first one was about men. In it, we discussed an almost universal pull guys feel as part of their rite of passage into full manhood. It is the desire to experience and see the world. It is a powerful yearning, not unlike being pulled somewhere by a rope. It can happen in many phases, each phase setting the man up to embark on the adventure of the next.
At lunch with a friend, I was asked if Bill had done something similar in his earlier years, even before I knew him. I said, yes, Bill had gone into live as a 'square' in a well-known drug recovery community in the sixties and seventies. "Did he play their games?" my friend asked. "What games?" "You know the circle games, the therapy games, the attack therapy"....
I had forgotten about that. That was Bill's training ground for becoming the manipulator he was so good at being. That was the place he learned how to fight to win at any cost. Fighting dirty was okay if in the end, you got your way. This was a huge 'aha moment' for me. That's where he learned his way of fighting. I wonder if it was also where he decided that lying was okay, lack of trust was okay, if you got your way. A strange ethic, but one that apparently was worth it for him. I was no match for that.
At lunch with a friend, I was asked if Bill had done something similar in his earlier years, even before I knew him. I said, yes, Bill had gone into live as a 'square' in a well-known drug recovery community in the sixties and seventies. "Did he play their games?" my friend asked. "What games?" "You know the circle games, the therapy games, the attack therapy"....
I had forgotten about that. That was Bill's training ground for becoming the manipulator he was so good at being. That was the place he learned how to fight to win at any cost. Fighting dirty was okay if in the end, you got your way. This was a huge 'aha moment' for me. That's where he learned his way of fighting. I wonder if it was also where he decided that lying was okay, lack of trust was okay, if you got your way. A strange ethic, but one that apparently was worth it for him. I was no match for that.
While the Cat's Away the Mice Will .......
Head of Household is a somewhat new role for me. For the first time, I claimed it on my taxes. After all, I think I may have always been the head of the household in a number of respects. In other ways, I have not been the head of this household. But now, for sure, I carry that mantle.
It's odd that I feel like my 90-year-old father is my teenager. Whenever I go out of town, he has his 'friend' spend the night. When I'm at home, we've got this tacit understanding that he doesn't have sleepovers. I know myself well enough that, despite my many liberal leanings and easygoing temperment, I would have a very difficult time if Dad had 'sleepovers' while I was at home. In a way I'm sad to say that I would feel a bit queasy. Some things I can't handle, at least not right now. As soon as Dad knows I'm leaving town, he calls his friend. As soon as I am halfway down the street, the friend is on his way.
On Monday Carmi came back on duty. She arrived at the house to find Dad confused and delirious. This is a sure sign that he has an infection. They went to the ER and Dad was admitted to the hospital. This is a scene we have had numerous times since Dad has moved in. Carmi called while I was in San Francisco. She thinks he'll be fine. He was coming down with a cold as we were getting ready to leave town. Laura, Kyle and I were all prepared for this. It is unavoidable at 90. Laura had a cold, he got too curious about her health, he wanted to examine her. She balked, she refused to let him. She was trying to keep him away from her. He doesn't realize that since he is no longer in practice, no longer getting constant exposure to germs via patients, that his resistance is very low. He can't ward off germs like he could while he was an active physician which leaves him susceptible to just about anything. Having had pneumonia at least six times, everything he gets goes into his lungs. I have now lost track of how many times he's been hospitalized with pneumonia.
Carmi thinks he's going to be fine. I don't think she's just saying that. He's like an old Timex watch......just keeps on ticking.......
It's odd that I feel like my 90-year-old father is my teenager. Whenever I go out of town, he has his 'friend' spend the night. When I'm at home, we've got this tacit understanding that he doesn't have sleepovers. I know myself well enough that, despite my many liberal leanings and easygoing temperment, I would have a very difficult time if Dad had 'sleepovers' while I was at home. In a way I'm sad to say that I would feel a bit queasy. Some things I can't handle, at least not right now. As soon as Dad knows I'm leaving town, he calls his friend. As soon as I am halfway down the street, the friend is on his way.
On Monday Carmi came back on duty. She arrived at the house to find Dad confused and delirious. This is a sure sign that he has an infection. They went to the ER and Dad was admitted to the hospital. This is a scene we have had numerous times since Dad has moved in. Carmi called while I was in San Francisco. She thinks he'll be fine. He was coming down with a cold as we were getting ready to leave town. Laura, Kyle and I were all prepared for this. It is unavoidable at 90. Laura had a cold, he got too curious about her health, he wanted to examine her. She balked, she refused to let him. She was trying to keep him away from her. He doesn't realize that since he is no longer in practice, no longer getting constant exposure to germs via patients, that his resistance is very low. He can't ward off germs like he could while he was an active physician which leaves him susceptible to just about anything. Having had pneumonia at least six times, everything he gets goes into his lungs. I have now lost track of how many times he's been hospitalized with pneumonia.
Carmi thinks he's going to be fine. I don't think she's just saying that. He's like an old Timex watch......just keeps on ticking.......
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Knoxville
The online news is always flashing its top stories when I log in. Some stories are seriously newsworthy, some gossip and celebrity-sightings, some human interest, others are odd curiosities. The other day one of those items was called 'Divorce and Dating', so I read it. It gave five tips for coping with divorce after a long-term marriage. I remember two of the things quite clearly: rekindle old hobbies and interests, and reconnect with people who knew you before that marriage. Those will help ground you to who you were/are. I have mused over how my divorce came on the heels of me reconnecting with high school friends the year prior to all this craziness. I have also, thanks to my iPod, been reconnecting with music from my early years. Some of that music is rock, some pop, and some classical. This weekend I uploaded my favorite concerto, 'Knoxville: Summer of 1915' by Samuel Barber. The Oberlin Conservatory had an annual concerto competition and the three or four winners would get to perform their concerti with the conservatory orchestra. I heard one of the seniors sing this piece and was so moved, so completely swept away by it, that I was speechless afterward. Congratulating the performer, I could do no more than babble. She probably thought I was nuts. I purchased the only known recording of the piece, one done by Leontyne Price. Leontyne Price broke the color barriers at the Met, was one of Toscanini's favorite divas, and was Samuel Barber's muse. He specifically wrote pieces (songs, song cycles, the opera 'Antony and Cleopatra') for her. During his lifetime, most of his works for soprano were recorded by Price. She had an enormous gift for sure, but I have always felt her huge, operatic voice was a mismatch for Barber's more lightly lyrical style, and the daily-life topics he illustrated in much of his music. I see that more artists have now recorded this piece, and will buy the Dawn Upshaw and maybe the Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau recording; I would like to hear how it sounds when sung by a man, especially Fischer-Dieskau. The piece, 'Knoxville', is written in what I think of as Americana style, much like that of Aaron Copland or Douglas Moore. In it, Barber does his usual masterful treatment of tone painting to enhance the lyrics. It is based on a James Agee's Pulitzer-Prize winning "A Death in the Family".
I listen to it on my iPod as I am drifting off to my assisted sleep. Yes, I am in an altered state and my sensitivity to music is magnified. The quiet, dark bedroom provides no other sensory stimuli. I am safe in my bed and there is no distraction to my listening. The music starts with a rocking, rolling accompaniment. It is like gently riding through town in a horse and buggy. 'It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently', Ah, yes, the music is the rocking chairs. Languid, gentle, peaceful like a summer evening. Next comes the brief interruption of a streetcar 'raising its iron moan, stopping, belling and stopping, stetterous!' As the piece goes on, night falls, and you can feel it. There is a distinct change in the music and the lyrics 'now is the night one blue dew' begin a section depicting the beauty of nature interspersed with mundane verses about spreading quilts on the lawn and coiling hoses, a beautiful picture of a peaceful town on a warm summer's night. Musical motifs hint at each new passage. These new melodies are introduced by the orchestra giving the listener a glimpse of new vocal lines before the singer starts a section. As nightfall arrives, the focus of the piece then turns to the child narrator. This is Agee as a four-year-old. He speaks of the love, comfort and safety of being with those he loves. 'One is an artist; he is living at home. One is a musician; she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me.' The first two sentences are light and performed pizzicato but the music quickly changes to legato and rises and swells in a gush of affection for the last two sentences. And later, 'After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep soft, smiling draws me unto her. And those receive me who quietly treat me as one familiar and well-beloved in that home.' Near the end of the piece the instrumentation is briefly foreboding as the singer says, 'May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father. Oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble and in the hour of their taking away'.
I know from having seen "A Death in the Family" that this piece is Agee's recollection of the last night his father was alive. Later that evening, at least in the play, his father and uncle drive somewhere and the codder pin, a pin that went down the steering shaft in early vehicles, released, shooting into the elder Agee's forehead, killing him instantly. A freak accident, even in the early years of the automobile.
The piece brings forth emotions in me that I cannot explain. The sensations, the brilliant meshing of words and song, the beauty, the tranquility and happiness of a southern summer evening, people surrounded by their loved ones, makes me sob. I lie in bed and I sob.
I listen to it on my iPod as I am drifting off to my assisted sleep. Yes, I am in an altered state and my sensitivity to music is magnified. The quiet, dark bedroom provides no other sensory stimuli. I am safe in my bed and there is no distraction to my listening. The music starts with a rocking, rolling accompaniment. It is like gently riding through town in a horse and buggy. 'It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently', Ah, yes, the music is the rocking chairs. Languid, gentle, peaceful like a summer evening. Next comes the brief interruption of a streetcar 'raising its iron moan, stopping, belling and stopping, stetterous!' As the piece goes on, night falls, and you can feel it. There is a distinct change in the music and the lyrics 'now is the night one blue dew' begin a section depicting the beauty of nature interspersed with mundane verses about spreading quilts on the lawn and coiling hoses, a beautiful picture of a peaceful town on a warm summer's night. Musical motifs hint at each new passage. These new melodies are introduced by the orchestra giving the listener a glimpse of new vocal lines before the singer starts a section. As nightfall arrives, the focus of the piece then turns to the child narrator. This is Agee as a four-year-old. He speaks of the love, comfort and safety of being with those he loves. 'One is an artist; he is living at home. One is a musician; she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me.' The first two sentences are light and performed pizzicato but the music quickly changes to legato and rises and swells in a gush of affection for the last two sentences. And later, 'After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep soft, smiling draws me unto her. And those receive me who quietly treat me as one familiar and well-beloved in that home.' Near the end of the piece the instrumentation is briefly foreboding as the singer says, 'May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father. Oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble and in the hour of their taking away'.
I know from having seen "A Death in the Family" that this piece is Agee's recollection of the last night his father was alive. Later that evening, at least in the play, his father and uncle drive somewhere and the codder pin, a pin that went down the steering shaft in early vehicles, released, shooting into the elder Agee's forehead, killing him instantly. A freak accident, even in the early years of the automobile.
The piece brings forth emotions in me that I cannot explain. The sensations, the brilliant meshing of words and song, the beauty, the tranquility and happiness of a southern summer evening, people surrounded by their loved ones, makes me sob. I lie in bed and I sob.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Toothless
Today started with Laura having to be at the oral surgeon's at 8:00 to have all four wisdom teeth extracted. The bottom two were impacted and the top two had already emerged through the gums. The procedure seemed to go by quickly. I don't quite see the wisdom (pun intended) in having all four out at once. You don't get the advantage of having one side of your mouth that functions or just having the pain minimized. She's in so much pain now. We have her in my bedroom taking Vicodin, ibuprofen and amoxicillin. She's miserable. I had suggested having the two bottom ones out now and the two top ones out during the summer. But I guess she only wanted to go through this once.
Kyle and I hung out in the waiting room while they hammered away on Laura's mouth. I could hear the metallic plink, plink, plink from there. 'She's really gonna hurt tonight' I thought. A young man behind the desk recognized Kyle. They had been friends in high school, and he is the oral surgeon's son. Kyle was bummed he hadn't known that ahead of time; he's sure he could have gotten us a great deal if he had told the doc he was his son's friend. I swear you can't swing a cat in this town without hitting someone who knows Kyle or his brothers.
When we were taken into the room where Laura was still in the chair, she had this strangely lost and bewildered look on her face. She looked like she had no idea what was going on It was as if she had awoke from a Rip-van-Winkle-style nap and didn't know where she was or who we were. We brought her home and as we put her in my bed she was crying. Tears streamed down her face; the anesthesia was wearing off. We had to get some smoothie into her before we could give her a Vicodin----not that I put much stock in that stuff. It never kills the pain for me. It takes only the edge off but never enough to give me comfort. We had to wipe the tears off her, wipe up all the blood and the drool, and help her out of the pain. Smoothie, Vicodin, ibuprofen, ice packs, tea bags, frozen vegetables, they all help a little.
It's times like these that make me resent feeling like I am the only parent. Where is Bill when she's hurting? Can I make it all better for her without her father's help? One evening in January she and the head cheer coach went out for a drink at the hotel across the street from the high school. While she was in there, one of the boys from the baseball team ran across the street, took the elevator to the top floor where there are meeting rooms, ran across the foyer and jumped out a window. He was lying in the street when she left. She was traumatized. She called me crying hysterically. Death is so foreign to us. Our society doesn't train us to accept death as part of living, as an unavoidable part of our existence. How are our young people supposed to handle death when it happens, especially when it is so sudden and seemingly pointless? How was I supposed to take this tragedy and make sense of it for her? I don't understand suicide, especially teen suicide. It is such a waste. I am her only parent during these times. It's a daunting task. 'Fix it, Mom. Fix it.' If Bill had been here, we could have tagged teamed it. But I was on my own.
Bill wants us to pick up Steve tomorrow while he is at the hospital. He thinks he might have to stay a few days and there is no one to take care of Stevie. Then I will leave town, and Carmi will be left to take care of him. But we all want to see him again, even Carmi and the relief caregiver, so we are more than happy to do anything to get him. He has an uncanny ability to perceive when someone is ill. At those times he crawls up on the bed next to the sick person and the warm and aura of his body have almost curative qualities. We will let him climb up on my bed with Laura. Then, if we're REALLY lucky, my new iPad will be delivered and she will be able to play with that. I took a gift card I'd received from my classroom parents and used some funds called 'adopt-a-class' to buy the iPad. It will interface with my classroom Smart Board and, in time, I might actually know how to use it. My personal reasons for getting the iPad were 1)to read my email 2)to read books from the local library and 3)to play Bejewelled on a nice big screen. But we'll let Laura play with it while she's recuperating. Kyle told Bill he'd have to talk to me about picking up Steve because Laura is under our vigilence right now. "What's wrong with her?" he asked. Kyle had already told him about the wisdom teeth, but he told him again. He is completely focused on his health, I can understand that. It's the quintessential Bill and, with his health concerns, we can write that one off to playing the cancer card.
Bill tells her she is in his will. He says he has given his friend, David, all the instructions and trusts that David will do the 'right thing'. He says Kyle found a will, although notarized, that wasn't the real will. Really??? This I gotta see.
Kyle and I hung out in the waiting room while they hammered away on Laura's mouth. I could hear the metallic plink, plink, plink from there. 'She's really gonna hurt tonight' I thought. A young man behind the desk recognized Kyle. They had been friends in high school, and he is the oral surgeon's son. Kyle was bummed he hadn't known that ahead of time; he's sure he could have gotten us a great deal if he had told the doc he was his son's friend. I swear you can't swing a cat in this town without hitting someone who knows Kyle or his brothers.
When we were taken into the room where Laura was still in the chair, she had this strangely lost and bewildered look on her face. She looked like she had no idea what was going on It was as if she had awoke from a Rip-van-Winkle-style nap and didn't know where she was or who we were. We brought her home and as we put her in my bed she was crying. Tears streamed down her face; the anesthesia was wearing off. We had to get some smoothie into her before we could give her a Vicodin----not that I put much stock in that stuff. It never kills the pain for me. It takes only the edge off but never enough to give me comfort. We had to wipe the tears off her, wipe up all the blood and the drool, and help her out of the pain. Smoothie, Vicodin, ibuprofen, ice packs, tea bags, frozen vegetables, they all help a little.
It's times like these that make me resent feeling like I am the only parent. Where is Bill when she's hurting? Can I make it all better for her without her father's help? One evening in January she and the head cheer coach went out for a drink at the hotel across the street from the high school. While she was in there, one of the boys from the baseball team ran across the street, took the elevator to the top floor where there are meeting rooms, ran across the foyer and jumped out a window. He was lying in the street when she left. She was traumatized. She called me crying hysterically. Death is so foreign to us. Our society doesn't train us to accept death as part of living, as an unavoidable part of our existence. How are our young people supposed to handle death when it happens, especially when it is so sudden and seemingly pointless? How was I supposed to take this tragedy and make sense of it for her? I don't understand suicide, especially teen suicide. It is such a waste. I am her only parent during these times. It's a daunting task. 'Fix it, Mom. Fix it.' If Bill had been here, we could have tagged teamed it. But I was on my own.
Bill wants us to pick up Steve tomorrow while he is at the hospital. He thinks he might have to stay a few days and there is no one to take care of Stevie. Then I will leave town, and Carmi will be left to take care of him. But we all want to see him again, even Carmi and the relief caregiver, so we are more than happy to do anything to get him. He has an uncanny ability to perceive when someone is ill. At those times he crawls up on the bed next to the sick person and the warm and aura of his body have almost curative qualities. We will let him climb up on my bed with Laura. Then, if we're REALLY lucky, my new iPad will be delivered and she will be able to play with that. I took a gift card I'd received from my classroom parents and used some funds called 'adopt-a-class' to buy the iPad. It will interface with my classroom Smart Board and, in time, I might actually know how to use it. My personal reasons for getting the iPad were 1)to read my email 2)to read books from the local library and 3)to play Bejewelled on a nice big screen. But we'll let Laura play with it while she's recuperating. Kyle told Bill he'd have to talk to me about picking up Steve because Laura is under our vigilence right now. "What's wrong with her?" he asked. Kyle had already told him about the wisdom teeth, but he told him again. He is completely focused on his health, I can understand that. It's the quintessential Bill and, with his health concerns, we can write that one off to playing the cancer card.
Bill tells her she is in his will. He says he has given his friend, David, all the instructions and trusts that David will do the 'right thing'. He says Kyle found a will, although notarized, that wasn't the real will. Really??? This I gotta see.
Monday, April 11, 2011
No Depo
Today I got a text from my attorney. He said the depo with Bill was canceled. I told him I already knew. It will be rescheduled for June. That's okay with me. The longer we wait, the longer my tax shelter has to grow before I have to sign it---and who knows what else---over to Bill. We have a 'trial hearing' set for the end of this month. I think it's similar to a status update. There the attorneys have to appear and tell the judge what progress we've made towards a settlement. It's a new addition to divorce proceedings. From what I hear, it was instituted because so many people were filing for divorce and never finalizing. My attorney told me we have a trial set for next March. That's okay with me. I don't know if Bill will even be alive by next March. (With the way my luck has been going, he'll probably be in complete remission and I will be paying him $2500/month for decades. Oh, joy!) Maybe his attorney won't be alive either. He got rear-ended on the freeway at about 60 mph. He already walked with a cane. He has 'forgotten' how to walk and is having back surgery this week. Oh, yeah, we won't be meeting again before June, if at all. Bill is considering getting a new attorney. Really? Is this a good idea? I don't think so. Check out how the other one recuperates from back surgery, then consider getting a new one.
I asked my attorney if it would be better or worse for us if Bill passed away before we finalized the divorce. He said it would be both. Great.
I asked my attorney if it would be better or worse for us if Bill passed away before we finalized the divorce. He said it would be both. Great.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Will There Be Another Depo?
Laura and Kyle have gone to the desert again to stay with Bill. Laura has two friends, one from college and one from beauty school, who are having babies. Megan had hers last month, and Laura can't stop buying baby clothes for her. I don't know how big a part these girls play in Laura going out there so frequently. But, nevertheless, they are going out a lot. They had the van this week and took furniture out to Bill.
Laura and I are on Spring Break now. We have two weeks off from school. We are going to go up north as soon as Bill gives his deposition at my attorney's office on Friday. They asked Bill if we could drive the van on our trip. That way we wouldn't be crammed into a car (mine) with four dog cages and mountains of stuff. We don't travel light. As an 'incentive' I said I'd have the van tuned up for him. The brakes also need some work. We'll save a lot of money because the van runs on natural gas and we'd only have to fill up twice on the whole trip.
I got a text from Kyle today: "Hey, it's Kyle, so Bill said i would be great to change the brake caliber on front. Part 50 no call fro Steve but talk to guy we gave dryer he said prbly an hour for 35 so about 85. Also FYI bills attorney is in the hospital pretty bad situation. But Friday has ben canceled." (Well this message wasn't clear but I certainly understood the last two sentences.)
Me: "omg! What happened 2 Bill's atty?"
K: "Bill says he got an a bad car accident a few years ago, rear ended at 60 mph and I guess hurt his back last week and forgot how to walk. He's in a convalescent home doing rehab"
Me:"That does not sound good!"
K: "I know it, bills pissed off"
Me:"Y is he pissed off? If Bill wants 2 help get things moving, he can rewrite his will while his atty rehabs"
K:"Cindy you need to stop that. I know it upsets you but complaining to me every change isnt helping.....Bill said I read the wrong will and laura is in it but we didn't go into details!"
I decided not to send any of the cute quips that came to mind. AND, Kyle is forgetting one thing: Bill is a liar.
Laura and I are on Spring Break now. We have two weeks off from school. We are going to go up north as soon as Bill gives his deposition at my attorney's office on Friday. They asked Bill if we could drive the van on our trip. That way we wouldn't be crammed into a car (mine) with four dog cages and mountains of stuff. We don't travel light. As an 'incentive' I said I'd have the van tuned up for him. The brakes also need some work. We'll save a lot of money because the van runs on natural gas and we'd only have to fill up twice on the whole trip.
I got a text from Kyle today: "Hey, it's Kyle, so Bill said i would be great to change the brake caliber on front. Part 50 no call fro Steve but talk to guy we gave dryer he said prbly an hour for 35 so about 85. Also FYI bills attorney is in the hospital pretty bad situation. But Friday has ben canceled." (Well this message wasn't clear but I certainly understood the last two sentences.)
Me: "omg! What happened 2 Bill's atty?"
K: "Bill says he got an a bad car accident a few years ago, rear ended at 60 mph and I guess hurt his back last week and forgot how to walk. He's in a convalescent home doing rehab"
Me:"That does not sound good!"
K: "I know it, bills pissed off"
Me:"Y is he pissed off? If Bill wants 2 help get things moving, he can rewrite his will while his atty rehabs"
K:"Cindy you need to stop that. I know it upsets you but complaining to me every change isnt helping.....Bill said I read the wrong will and laura is in it but we didn't go into details!"
I decided not to send any of the cute quips that came to mind. AND, Kyle is forgetting one thing: Bill is a liar.
ANDO LUCHANDO
I have spent a couple of weeks now trying to solve an internal conflict. It started with discomfort during my brief foray into the dating arena. I embarked on that short venture with a great attitude. I was going to learn how to date. It was an exercise for me, a way to develop and strengthen a new set of muscles. My personal goals were to 1) learn how to date. After all, I hadn't been on a date in over 23 years, and even then I only went on about five dates. My dating was back in college. I dated a lot in college. I felt like I had a handle on dating back then. We were in a small town on a small campus. No one could live off-campus or have a car (although there were exceptions---as there always are). We all ate at the usual places. Nobody went far, obviously. It was, in other words, a controlled and safe environment. I now live in a huge metropolitan area. Life and dating are exponentially more complicated. 2) I wanted to become comfortable at dating again. (There is no need for explanation here. I've been basically a married woman since 1974.) This goal moves beyond the first; it would mean that I would get to a place where I didn't cringe at the idea of a first date. It would mean that I would feel I could handle a variety of men and situations (within reason, of course). 3) I wanted to learn to look for red flags because, based on my two failed marriages, it is abundantly clear that I don't see the warning signs early on. And early on is when you need to detect and act on them. That's particularly difficult at the beginning of a relationship because that's frequently when I have a 'crush' on a guy and stars in my eyes. But it's better to get out early on than after damage and hurt have happened. And 4) I wanted to learn how to break off a relationship if it wasn't making me happy. That's right. I don't know how to break up with a guy. I thought it was time to learn to say the words, "This just isn't working out for me." I had a pattern of staying in sour relationships long after they were over because I couldn't break up with the guy. I couldn't say those words. I would either wait for the guy to break it off or break off things only when I found another person I wanted to date. Not very gutsy. Not in my best interests.
Ah, but moving into the dating scene had made me feel uncomfortable from the beginning. Why was I uncomfortable? Or better yet---why was I dating? There was a fight going on inside me. Why? What was it? Then I remembered. Mom had installed tapes in my brain and they were on 'autoplay'. Did Mom know the message she had sent? I would answer that with an emphatic 'yes'. She purposely sent me messages from very early on. The messages said 'You need to be married. You are incomplete without a man. You need to find a husband who will love you and take care of you. That's all you need: to be loved and taken care of.' For anyone who knew my mother, it would be clear she never experienced that. She had two marriages. Both were disasters. She ended up going back to work when I was nineteen and supporting the family for the rest of her life. But there wasn't much life left in her then, and she died when I was twenty nine.
But Mom wasn't the only one who made head recordings for me. Her mother and sister did the same. Those two had much better luck in turning those tapes into realities. My aunt, after a terrible marriage as a fifteen-year-old (quickly followed by motherhood, of course), met a great guy and he loved and took care of her until she died 55 years later. My grandmother married the richest boy in town, a boy whose family owned every house on the street, including hers, a boy who was the only student in school with a car, a boy her mother called 'the boy with no legs' because he was always in his car. Ten years into their marriage the big stock market crash came, his father got stomach cancer, and the family tumbled into financial obscurity. Undaunted, my grandmother continued to live her life as a pseudo-socialite, do-gooder, bridge player, interior decorator, and wannabe. She made 'honeydo lists' for my grandfather who woke up every Saturday with inexplicable migraine headaches that rendered him incapable of performing any those chores. But the marriage lasted 68 years and in time Grandma wore him down and he capitulated to all her wishes. He loved her and took care of her.
So what do I do when my head tells me I want to be on my own? When one day I wake up and realize that for decades, perhaps even since the time I was still married to my first husband, I've had a craving to be on my own? That doesn't conform to the taped messages in my head. What do I say to the tapes when I don't want to do what they've been telling me to do? What if I think the tapes are telling me to do something I don't think is in my best interest? In fact, acting on the tapes right now could possibly be harmful to me. That's what I'm feeling. What do I say to Mom? "Mom, I don't want that now. I just don't want to date. Maybe I'm still hurting from Bill. Maybe I don't want the complication of dealing with another person's intimacies right now. Maybe, just maybe, Mom, I want to be by myself. Maybe I need alone time. Maybe it would be more beneficial to me to get to know myself as a single person. Maybe I could get myself to a point where I don't make choices that are bad for me. Maybe I could learn to act in my own best interests. I know I am hard-wired to be in a relationship. I know I am loving, committed, loyal and faithful when I do commit to someone but do we have to jump right back into that? Isn't that one of the things that went wrong with Bill? I didn't tell him to go away from me for a while when we first met. I should have had alone time then but I didn't because the tapes were controlling me, my thoughts, my actions, my self-control. Maybe, Mom, it's not such a bad thing to not be in a relationship for a while."
Ah, but moving into the dating scene had made me feel uncomfortable from the beginning. Why was I uncomfortable? Or better yet---why was I dating? There was a fight going on inside me. Why? What was it? Then I remembered. Mom had installed tapes in my brain and they were on 'autoplay'. Did Mom know the message she had sent? I would answer that with an emphatic 'yes'. She purposely sent me messages from very early on. The messages said 'You need to be married. You are incomplete without a man. You need to find a husband who will love you and take care of you. That's all you need: to be loved and taken care of.' For anyone who knew my mother, it would be clear she never experienced that. She had two marriages. Both were disasters. She ended up going back to work when I was nineteen and supporting the family for the rest of her life. But there wasn't much life left in her then, and she died when I was twenty nine.
But Mom wasn't the only one who made head recordings for me. Her mother and sister did the same. Those two had much better luck in turning those tapes into realities. My aunt, after a terrible marriage as a fifteen-year-old (quickly followed by motherhood, of course), met a great guy and he loved and took care of her until she died 55 years later. My grandmother married the richest boy in town, a boy whose family owned every house on the street, including hers, a boy who was the only student in school with a car, a boy her mother called 'the boy with no legs' because he was always in his car. Ten years into their marriage the big stock market crash came, his father got stomach cancer, and the family tumbled into financial obscurity. Undaunted, my grandmother continued to live her life as a pseudo-socialite, do-gooder, bridge player, interior decorator, and wannabe. She made 'honeydo lists' for my grandfather who woke up every Saturday with inexplicable migraine headaches that rendered him incapable of performing any those chores. But the marriage lasted 68 years and in time Grandma wore him down and he capitulated to all her wishes. He loved her and took care of her.
So what do I do when my head tells me I want to be on my own? When one day I wake up and realize that for decades, perhaps even since the time I was still married to my first husband, I've had a craving to be on my own? That doesn't conform to the taped messages in my head. What do I say to the tapes when I don't want to do what they've been telling me to do? What if I think the tapes are telling me to do something I don't think is in my best interest? In fact, acting on the tapes right now could possibly be harmful to me. That's what I'm feeling. What do I say to Mom? "Mom, I don't want that now. I just don't want to date. Maybe I'm still hurting from Bill. Maybe I don't want the complication of dealing with another person's intimacies right now. Maybe, just maybe, Mom, I want to be by myself. Maybe I need alone time. Maybe it would be more beneficial to me to get to know myself as a single person. Maybe I could get myself to a point where I don't make choices that are bad for me. Maybe I could learn to act in my own best interests. I know I am hard-wired to be in a relationship. I know I am loving, committed, loyal and faithful when I do commit to someone but do we have to jump right back into that? Isn't that one of the things that went wrong with Bill? I didn't tell him to go away from me for a while when we first met. I should have had alone time then but I didn't because the tapes were controlling me, my thoughts, my actions, my self-control. Maybe, Mom, it's not such a bad thing to not be in a relationship for a while."
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