.....okay, i'm not. Actually, my love life is sort of at a standstill. i simply like the phrase, "utterly twitterpated." Living now in the world of real estate, i miss the world of english more and more.
i drove past the formal gown shop at the bottom of the hill near where i work, and realized that i want to skip valentine's day this year.
i'm attempting to update this, largely to make happy one of my closest friends, who not only appears to read it, but actually requests that it be updated. In the meantime, however, mom keeps interrupting me. Her patience is low, in some ways. She often "needs" to know the answers to questions right now, yet she can play solitaire for hours at a jaunt. It can become frustrating, answering the same questions over and over, or just answering questions all the time. Sometimes i catch myself going on auto pilot, and realizing belatedly how incorrectly i answered. Quite often i tell her it's the wrong day, in this manner. Saturday, no, it's Tuesday mom.
Life here has continued trucking along. (Yes, i realize that this is poor writing form, to use such cliches as "trucking along".) i've thought about a few posts i should put here, even began one. (See, in the midst of beginning a deep paragraph on the death of friends in the minds of dementia patients, i am interrupted by "we have no toilet paper", yelled from upstairs. This is one of her current obsessions, toilet paper. we must, at all times, have several rolls in stock. Only one roll, if in any way not full, is tantamount to being out of it.
mom locked her companion out of the house yesterday. She didn't want her coming in, bubs was off work, so she locked the door and told her so. When bubs related this to me later, when i called from work, i laughed. He scolded me, stating that it was not funny. It's not kind of me, but it is, in a certain way, very humurous. To picture my small mother locking the dooor, like a petulant child, and telling the nurse (for lack of a better short nickname) to go home. Lord forgive my pettyness.
The nurse and i have a somewhat strained relationship. It appears as if we are both looking for a way out of the current situation, but we both need it until we find one, so we both pretend nothing is wrong. Then both of us lets bubs know, in no uncertain terms, about our unhappiness. Poor bubs.
The last few days, mom has awoken (and thus i have awoken) in the middle of the night due to excrutiating (apparently) foot pain. Lord willing, we have another doctor's appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Please, should anyone actually read this, pray for it- okay?????
Well, this post has been somewhat disjointed. There are many ways in which it could be expanded, or ordered, or solidified. There is so much more i could say. However, i think mom and i are going to attempt to watch a movie, and there are wet clothes to be considered. God is god, life is good, may it, if He wills, continue to be so.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
i'm in a lousy mood. i don't even know why i write to this thing, for the one or maybe two people who might read it in the world. Originally, it was supposed to be cathartic, telling my story to the world, maybe letting others know they weren't alone. letting my closer friends stay abreast of developments in my life too personal for livejournal and its judgmental eyes. At this moment, however, those rays of hope and inspiration have been swallowed by a sort of dead weight despondency which sucks me into lethargy. i've done some work today, and have much to do, but decided i ought to go get glasses. Speaking of which, i'd best go get dressed, although my desire to get the glasses has waned. i'm really only doing it at this point so that i can see next week, Lord willing, while traveling to philadelphia. mom and mickey need me now.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
savoring this hope and healing..........
Thank and praise God!!!!!!!!!
The articles are going well.
Lord willing, they'll continue to do so.
:OD.
The articles are going well.
Lord willing, they'll continue to do so.
:OD.
oooh, ooh, oh, the sweetest thing
mom appears to have lost half my laptop cord. Which means i don't have it to do my newspaper article on. So i'm trying to do two articles and a police report (which i had to handwrite at the station due to the aforementioned laptop cord issue), but mom is wandering around swearing (because i'm not upstairs with her like i normally am, winding her down for the night), bubs is drunk (at least that puts him in a decent mood, but still.......) and there isn't really sufficient light to make me happy doing this on the desktop.
in related news, i actually had this conversation with bubs (something like this)after realizing that we hadn't gotten mom her tylenol pm yet (she needs it to sleep through the night, and usually that hasn't been enough, and i've been giving her fish oil pills as placcebos to compensate, else she will med seek for another sleeping pill on top of the tylenol):
"are you sober enough to take mom for tylenol pm"
"define sober"
"not going to get in an accident, or get arrested"
"i'd get arrested if i was caught, but i should be able to make it to the pump without crashing" (pump is like two blocks away)
"well, can you take her?????"
pause, pause, pause.........
"bubs, did you hear what i said?????"
"no, what"
"i said, if you stop drinking now, you could still take mom for her tylenol pm"
his answer was a laugh. at which point i decided it was too late.
him: "she doesn't need it"
me: "well, i can't give her three fish oil pills"
think, think.........
"i guess i could give her some regular tylenol instead"
At one point this conversation would have probably shocked me, or i would have been ashamed of it. To think that i would ask my slightly drunk brother to drive our mom to a store, because he's sober enough to drive and it's not likely the cop will catch him, or to think that we would discuss what placebo we'll give her tonight, would probably have seemed very foreign. Now stuff like this is just part of my life, associated with only mild bemusement and guilt.
She is wandering around me puttering. i may have to stop the newspaper article writing to settle her down, despite the fact that i have noon deadline and three assignments, one of which was an almost four hour long meeting, and i have to work tomorrow. Thank God!!!!!!!!! that at least i was able to get part of the long one written during school today, and the other one should be short, and the third just typing in the police report from my notes.
Still, i sometimes think that i might have to quit this newspaper gig soon. It just doesn't fit in so well to my life of late. The paper's been pretty patient about late assignments, thank God!!!!!!, but still..........
Lord willing this one will work out too. back to work.
in related news, i actually had this conversation with bubs (something like this)after realizing that we hadn't gotten mom her tylenol pm yet (she needs it to sleep through the night, and usually that hasn't been enough, and i've been giving her fish oil pills as placcebos to compensate, else she will med seek for another sleeping pill on top of the tylenol):
"are you sober enough to take mom for tylenol pm"
"define sober"
"not going to get in an accident, or get arrested"
"i'd get arrested if i was caught, but i should be able to make it to the pump without crashing" (pump is like two blocks away)
"well, can you take her?????"
pause, pause, pause.........
"bubs, did you hear what i said?????"
"no, what"
"i said, if you stop drinking now, you could still take mom for her tylenol pm"
his answer was a laugh. at which point i decided it was too late.
him: "she doesn't need it"
me: "well, i can't give her three fish oil pills"
think, think.........
"i guess i could give her some regular tylenol instead"
At one point this conversation would have probably shocked me, or i would have been ashamed of it. To think that i would ask my slightly drunk brother to drive our mom to a store, because he's sober enough to drive and it's not likely the cop will catch him, or to think that we would discuss what placebo we'll give her tonight, would probably have seemed very foreign. Now stuff like this is just part of my life, associated with only mild bemusement and guilt.
She is wandering around me puttering. i may have to stop the newspaper article writing to settle her down, despite the fact that i have noon deadline and three assignments, one of which was an almost four hour long meeting, and i have to work tomorrow. Thank God!!!!!!!!! that at least i was able to get part of the long one written during school today, and the other one should be short, and the third just typing in the police report from my notes.
Still, i sometimes think that i might have to quit this newspaper gig soon. It just doesn't fit in so well to my life of late. The paper's been pretty patient about late assignments, thank God!!!!!!, but still..........
Lord willing this one will work out too. back to work.
the ways i've failed.....
i've been failing a lot lately, in mom's care. Or at least i feel like i have (for instance, sitting here typing this instead of hanging with her). On that note, i think i'll finish this later maybe.
carve your name here in my arm
This morning i turned things over to God. This was a good thing, and, as i said on my facebook, a relief. Things here have been good, though i'm currently in one of those moods where i'm basically emotionally..... off. So here are some of the highlights:
-concerned about bubs' drinking and depression. like really, seriously concerned. i pray for him, and need to leave him in God's hands, but i feel like i'm being inadequate in meeting his needs.
-xh. and her amazing family are helping us get a furnace. thank God!!!!!!! (praise Him!!!!!!!) (and for all!!!!!!!) i was able to get the basement ready for the furnace, i think. So heat. woohoo. now there's more room down there, and i just have trouble motivating myself to continue cleaning. this leads to
-feelings of inadequacy. in like a little over a week, i'm supposed to start my other job. and i should have someone to stay with mom at this time. but the house is nowhere near ready. and i know if i got my ass in gear, i could get it ready, or more so, but my motivation lacks, and sometimes i think i'm just a terrible person.
-subbing, lots. this is a good thing. love money.
-ignoring bills. elizabeth cohen wrote of this too, this feeling of overwhelmed, the house becoming a mess, the bills sitting unpaid, and how little this bothers you. funny how it doesn't. it's like there's this little voice, screaming, that to be a successful human you must care about all this, but that little voice is muffled under countless layers of cotton fluff apathy.
-where did elizabeth cohen go????? she isn't in my paper anymore.
-car has been out of commission for almost three weeks. running out of friends to impose on to drive and/or watch mom while i'm working. getting increasingly frustrated at the unwillingness friends show to help, though i know i've probably been just as unwilling at times, and they may have proven themselves before.
- r is about to age out of his home. they're scrambling for a family. mom, last night while i was telling this to sister (bridezilla), asked why we didn't bring him home. love to.
-my love life deserves its own post. i'm about finally ready to accept that the long running "perhaps" is over, and to be okay with it, and, at the end, it actually wasn't my decision, a surprise to anyone who knows the history. since then, i've had some suitors, but they're creepy, older, desperate, etc. like i said, it deserves it's own post, if for nothing else than the humor of it.
-please God, can good things keep happening to us, and not bad?????????
-concerned about bubs' drinking and depression. like really, seriously concerned. i pray for him, and need to leave him in God's hands, but i feel like i'm being inadequate in meeting his needs.
-xh. and her amazing family are helping us get a furnace. thank God!!!!!!! (praise Him!!!!!!!) (and for all!!!!!!!) i was able to get the basement ready for the furnace, i think. So heat. woohoo. now there's more room down there, and i just have trouble motivating myself to continue cleaning. this leads to
-feelings of inadequacy. in like a little over a week, i'm supposed to start my other job. and i should have someone to stay with mom at this time. but the house is nowhere near ready. and i know if i got my ass in gear, i could get it ready, or more so, but my motivation lacks, and sometimes i think i'm just a terrible person.
-subbing, lots. this is a good thing. love money.
-ignoring bills. elizabeth cohen wrote of this too, this feeling of overwhelmed, the house becoming a mess, the bills sitting unpaid, and how little this bothers you. funny how it doesn't. it's like there's this little voice, screaming, that to be a successful human you must care about all this, but that little voice is muffled under countless layers of cotton fluff apathy.
-where did elizabeth cohen go????? she isn't in my paper anymore.
-car has been out of commission for almost three weeks. running out of friends to impose on to drive and/or watch mom while i'm working. getting increasingly frustrated at the unwillingness friends show to help, though i know i've probably been just as unwilling at times, and they may have proven themselves before.
- r is about to age out of his home. they're scrambling for a family. mom, last night while i was telling this to sister (bridezilla), asked why we didn't bring him home. love to.
-my love life deserves its own post. i'm about finally ready to accept that the long running "perhaps" is over, and to be okay with it, and, at the end, it actually wasn't my decision, a surprise to anyone who knows the history. since then, i've had some suitors, but they're creepy, older, desperate, etc. like i said, it deserves it's own post, if for nothing else than the humor of it.
-please God, can good things keep happening to us, and not bad?????????
Friday, October 9, 2009
under pressure, pushing down on me, pushing down on you......
"you don't give a f***ing sh**t about me". i hear this phrase often, second perhaps to the ever present "find her a man". This does annoy me a bit sometimes, when, like today, my patience level is low, though i know that my life is wonderful (thank God for all!!!!!!!!!) and i really ought to be more tolerant (and joyful) about life in general. i live with her. i help her dress sometimes. i do not travel overseas. If i did not care about her, i probably wouldn't live here. At least that's what i tend to think. This is my life though. This is where i want it to be too. i am happy in it, and thank God for it. Though i probably wouldn't complain were mom to be miraculously healed tomorrow.
Today i thought that i feel a bit as if i'm caught between two generations. At times i feel young, and empowered- a thirty year old career professional who really could act like those people on tv, the coffees, the clubs, the fun and mischief. Other times, though, i feel as if i've passed this by now, as if i'm a sedentary adult, an adult, and i wonder if the young and wild is still attainable. Do i want it to be? Again, i thank God for who, what, where, i am, but these are just the thoughts that go through my brain.
The amazing xheni and mott, my best friend and her husband (to be differentiated from the childhood best friends perhaps mentioned in previous posts), did much to help me with this on my actual 30th birthday. we had a day of fun and frolic, going to the zoo, playing ddr, competing in air hockey, and watching cloudy with a chance of meatballs, the 3d experience. Then we had a hippie food birthday dinner extravaganza with my family. Thank You God for amazing friends!!!!!
Much else has occurred, but perhaps this shall wait for another time. The internet is walking funny. (He, he, he, walking funny, oh typos, wherefore art though, although that wasn't really a typo- i meant to say that.) Okay, it's connected, let's post quickly.
Today i thought that i feel a bit as if i'm caught between two generations. At times i feel young, and empowered- a thirty year old career professional who really could act like those people on tv, the coffees, the clubs, the fun and mischief. Other times, though, i feel as if i've passed this by now, as if i'm a sedentary adult, an adult, and i wonder if the young and wild is still attainable. Do i want it to be? Again, i thank God for who, what, where, i am, but these are just the thoughts that go through my brain.
The amazing xheni and mott, my best friend and her husband (to be differentiated from the childhood best friends perhaps mentioned in previous posts), did much to help me with this on my actual 30th birthday. we had a day of fun and frolic, going to the zoo, playing ddr, competing in air hockey, and watching cloudy with a chance of meatballs, the 3d experience. Then we had a hippie food birthday dinner extravaganza with my family. Thank You God for amazing friends!!!!!
Much else has occurred, but perhaps this shall wait for another time. The internet is walking funny. (He, he, he, walking funny, oh typos, wherefore art though, although that wasn't really a typo- i meant to say that.) Okay, it's connected, let's post quickly.
They're coming to take me away.........
My latest conspiracy theory involves my friend v's husband, who is creating an ai in their basement. Last week, in an as of yet unsent letter, i cautioned her to be careful lest it take over the world, or something. i've a small, niggling part of my brain which almost thinks the a.i. knew i wrote this, and went on the attack. Last friday my car broke. It still wasn't fixed as of this morning. As i only own a car charger, my cell phone has been relatively out of commission this week. Our oven started sparking out the back, so we shut off the breaker. The cable in our town went on the fritz, and stayed there most of the week. The internet has been off as well. Today, i mis-saved a newspaper assignment, and had it eaten. Bubs' car broke too this morning, which means i've no way to get back to re-do it unless i get a ride. Now i'm not really this paranoid, to think it is an a.i. several states causing this. Still, one gets a little nervous, right?
are you strong enough to be my man
Today has been an adventure. i could probably have been better about it, but beyond the potential changes which self-recrimination and guilt can cause, i'm tired of feeling them. i broke down, into tears today, when i realized that i had to go and re-get the police report because i didn't save it correctly. Both of our cars are broken- hence this requires finding someone to drive me. Bubs stayed home due to the broken car, and has been in misery most of the day. This involves a lot of crying, yelling, swearing, and agony. The dog is traumatized, and following me around like my long lost friend. Mom is, well, mom. She and mick aren't a good mix when he's in a mood. After my breakdown, she insisted on running around the house looking for the non-existent hard copy. i was pretty miserable.
Then i saw a post on facebook regarding a boy who is to be executed today for killing a man who tried to rape him. In the grand scheme of things, my life is good, always. Lord forgive me for my whining, though i can't promise that i won't due it again. Lord be with that boy.
Then i saw a post on facebook regarding a boy who is to be executed today for killing a man who tried to rape him. In the grand scheme of things, my life is good, always. Lord forgive me for my whining, though i can't promise that i won't due it again. Lord be with that boy.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
at the star wars cantina
Last night i desperately wanted to call and unload on the texan (the middle sister). You see, it used to be her responsibility to care for the family. She decided at one point (we discussed while in england one day, on an honest, adult walk and talk expedition) that she no longer wanted to carry this responsibility, and i agreed to take it on.
That was then, before mom developed dementia, before bubs developed depression and a drinking problem, before murfle (eldest sister with a mental illness) lost yet another job and started asking me to move in home.
i still haven't forgiven her for running away to texas, i'll admit it. she moved across the country, knowing that mom had dementia (though bubs had not yet gotten bad). She then proceeded to get married, and pregnant, so that she wouldn't come back. Now she is harder to get ahold of. She says the baby makes her tired.
i wanted, last night, when bubs got very drunk, and started declaring to mom and i that he had no intentions to live till forty, and that he just used the booze to kill the pain, to call her and unload on her. It was a low point, as i lay in bed, on the verge of crying, though i realized that God was in control of everything.
Tonight, though, i spoke to the texan, and heard that she was worried about the baby. She was in need. So i kept my mouth shut.
God is in control. Of all of us. In Him i can do anything, including deal with life now. Better yet, He is responsible for all of it, and i don't have to take care of anyone. Lord, please take control of it. i really can't handle it (or anything) without You.
That was then, before mom developed dementia, before bubs developed depression and a drinking problem, before murfle (eldest sister with a mental illness) lost yet another job and started asking me to move in home.
i still haven't forgiven her for running away to texas, i'll admit it. she moved across the country, knowing that mom had dementia (though bubs had not yet gotten bad). She then proceeded to get married, and pregnant, so that she wouldn't come back. Now she is harder to get ahold of. She says the baby makes her tired.
i wanted, last night, when bubs got very drunk, and started declaring to mom and i that he had no intentions to live till forty, and that he just used the booze to kill the pain, to call her and unload on her. It was a low point, as i lay in bed, on the verge of crying, though i realized that God was in control of everything.
Tonight, though, i spoke to the texan, and heard that she was worried about the baby. She was in need. So i kept my mouth shut.
God is in control. Of all of us. In Him i can do anything, including deal with life now. Better yet, He is responsible for all of it, and i don't have to take care of anyone. Lord, please take control of it. i really can't handle it (or anything) without You.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
besame, besame mucho........
It has been a very long time since i've updated. Oftentimes i think about what i want to write here, but then i don't actually do it.
It's just that life has so become a dichotomy. At one point, it is so fraught- fraught with emotion, with activity, with responsibilities. Yet, simultaneously, it is so mundane- i live in small town rural america, and spend my nights doing things like scrubbing the bathtub, and blogging about my life. i'm happy as it is, don't get me wrong, it's just strange.
i oughtn't to write for too long, even now. mom has been calling for her medicine for a while. It isn't so cruel for me to be doing this instead- i'll probably, Lord willing, go up around eleven and watch tv with her, giving her her medicine then. This too has become a bit of a habit. She loves to have me up there. i don't think most of the time she's interested in my tastes in television. She just wants the company. She'll ask me, as i head downstairs, if i'm going to sleep there, all wistfully. She does not want me to leave. i often consider just staying. i often think that it might be a good option. i often wonder, but i don't do. yet. There is a chance one of these days i will, and i don't think it will hurt anything for me to do so.
bubs was very drunk tonight. This has become a habit as well. i'm concerned about his drinking, but i'm not entirely sure what to do about it. i try to talk him out of it, i try to tell him God will kill the pain better far better than alcohol, but it doesn't work so all i can do is pray. he is on the cusp of getting out and getting his life together, Lord willing, and i just do not want him to mess it all up be developing a drinking problem.
It's funny, the eldest sister (we'll call her murfle for now) is having problems again. She's lost her latest job, is living with friends who packed all her stuff up, and desperately wants to come home. She has said she will sleep in her car, in the woods around home, and in our back yard if necessary but that she really wants to come home. i told bubs that i couldn't take care of three mentally ill people, kind of apologizing for calling him mentally ill. he stated that he wasn't arguing with that, but asked if i didn't mean four, like i was sane. Thank God for how i am, but i had to concede the point that, with my ocd-ness perhaps getting more extreme with age, i couldn't argue with him either, so i amended my statement to say that i couldn't take care of four mentally ill people at once. Of course, i know this to be a lie: if God wills that she come home, i can take care of four mentally ill people at once. Actually, in truth, that really isn't true either. i don't have to, i won't have to, take care of four mentally ill people. God will do it instead. It isn't really my job to do anything. Thank God and praise God for that!!!!!!!!! Thank Him and praise Him for all!!!!!!!!!
It's just that life has so become a dichotomy. At one point, it is so fraught- fraught with emotion, with activity, with responsibilities. Yet, simultaneously, it is so mundane- i live in small town rural america, and spend my nights doing things like scrubbing the bathtub, and blogging about my life. i'm happy as it is, don't get me wrong, it's just strange.
i oughtn't to write for too long, even now. mom has been calling for her medicine for a while. It isn't so cruel for me to be doing this instead- i'll probably, Lord willing, go up around eleven and watch tv with her, giving her her medicine then. This too has become a bit of a habit. She loves to have me up there. i don't think most of the time she's interested in my tastes in television. She just wants the company. She'll ask me, as i head downstairs, if i'm going to sleep there, all wistfully. She does not want me to leave. i often consider just staying. i often think that it might be a good option. i often wonder, but i don't do. yet. There is a chance one of these days i will, and i don't think it will hurt anything for me to do so.
bubs was very drunk tonight. This has become a habit as well. i'm concerned about his drinking, but i'm not entirely sure what to do about it. i try to talk him out of it, i try to tell him God will kill the pain better far better than alcohol, but it doesn't work so all i can do is pray. he is on the cusp of getting out and getting his life together, Lord willing, and i just do not want him to mess it all up be developing a drinking problem.
It's funny, the eldest sister (we'll call her murfle for now) is having problems again. She's lost her latest job, is living with friends who packed all her stuff up, and desperately wants to come home. She has said she will sleep in her car, in the woods around home, and in our back yard if necessary but that she really wants to come home. i told bubs that i couldn't take care of three mentally ill people, kind of apologizing for calling him mentally ill. he stated that he wasn't arguing with that, but asked if i didn't mean four, like i was sane. Thank God for how i am, but i had to concede the point that, with my ocd-ness perhaps getting more extreme with age, i couldn't argue with him either, so i amended my statement to say that i couldn't take care of four mentally ill people at once. Of course, i know this to be a lie: if God wills that she come home, i can take care of four mentally ill people at once. Actually, in truth, that really isn't true either. i don't have to, i won't have to, take care of four mentally ill people. God will do it instead. It isn't really my job to do anything. Thank God and praise God for that!!!!!!!!! Thank Him and praise Him for all!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
standing naked in somebody else's room
Just a quick anecdote. My mother, oh, a week or two ago, went outside topless. At least i think it was topless, it was either that or in her bra, but i think she went out to retrieve her bra. So, in fact, she went onto the porch topless. i, of course, had not jumped to get her the garment quickly enough, so she had to get it herself. She then proceeded to put it on on the porch. We live in the middle of town. i was smiling, chasing after her laughing a bit, and standing on the porch with my arms out trying to block her from view. Bubs got angry. (or course, he's usually angry anymore.) He snapped at me for being amused, and, i think, commented that this was the sort of thing which would get me reported (again) to the office of the aging.
The reason why i'm not so upset about it, however, is simple: she's sick. It isn't her fault, really, that she went onto the porch topless. Anyone with an ounce of sense and understanding would not only see that, but acknowledge it and be sympathetic towards it. If someone is too close minded to be understanding that a mental illness could cause someone to briefly walk around half clothed, then that is their problem, and i'm only going to be concerned with them if they make my life uncomfortable by reporting it. At which point i will be angry, not concerned about their fragile sensibilities.
Lord, help me control my anger.
If anyone ever tries making a huge deal out of it, maybe i'll go out onto the porch topless too.
Hey, if you're going to offend the neighborhood, you may as well do it big.
The reason why i'm not so upset about it, however, is simple: she's sick. It isn't her fault, really, that she went onto the porch topless. Anyone with an ounce of sense and understanding would not only see that, but acknowledge it and be sympathetic towards it. If someone is too close minded to be understanding that a mental illness could cause someone to briefly walk around half clothed, then that is their problem, and i'm only going to be concerned with them if they make my life uncomfortable by reporting it. At which point i will be angry, not concerned about their fragile sensibilities.
Lord, help me control my anger.
If anyone ever tries making a huge deal out of it, maybe i'll go out onto the porch topless too.
Hey, if you're going to offend the neighborhood, you may as well do it big.
how did you, get there, oh and in your underwear.........
Lethargy is slowly once again pulling me deep within its miasma. Okay, so the journey is not so slow, and, in the end, i can't blame lethargy for that which i encourage it to do. Basically, i can not ever see myself becoming a good stay at home mom. When i look introspectively within myself, honestly, i can admit that perhaps part of why i tend to get myself so involved in so muh, is because without a schedule i just do......... nothing. Or, if not nothing, not so much. For a while i was actually being rather productive. This summer, as every summer, that has declined.
you just reach a point at which you look around, and think- i'm not going to get this fixed, we live fine as it is, why bother trying. There's still a little voice in your head which protests- you bother trying, my dear, because your house isn't safe. Probably, realistically, your house could be condemned in its current condition, and you might be charged with elder abuse. That little voice talks sometimes so very quietly however.
The voice is easier to ignore, too, when coupled with mom's extreme desire to always be going somewhere. Sometimes it can be easy to work. Sometimes it can be hard to argue with her all the time that you need to work.
Still, even when i have time off, all too often i spend it not working.
Lord, please forgive me.
Today, however, i did get into my room for a bit. i pulled out clothes, emptied a box, and have begun the arduous task of washing all of the mouse feces and urine infested garments from my past (and my sisters' pasts, and my mothers' past, etc.). The things located therein presented some interesting thoughts, reflections on who i am and who i have been:
-bloomers. How many people looking at me now would believe i was ever a cheerleader, much less the captain of the squad?????
-my first string bikini (and a series of other bikinis). i, the girl who protests with some anger every summer that there just aren't discreet suits for skinny women, used to own and love a string bikini.
-girly underclothes. About which i was actually excited.
-sports bras. about which i used to be really excited. (sports bras just don't go so well with businesswear though.)
-a "go hard big dick" shirt. which i used to wear proudly all over campus. sigh.
-running clothes, running clothes, running clothes. This last one made me sad. Where is the girl who used to run all over the place, who never even considered not running? i miss her. let's get her back.
-cute "date" dresses. which will likely be worn to church. There isn't much in my life right now which requires dressing up enough for a cute night out dress. Still, it makes me happy that i have reached a phase in my life where i could see myself wearing it.
you just reach a point at which you look around, and think- i'm not going to get this fixed, we live fine as it is, why bother trying. There's still a little voice in your head which protests- you bother trying, my dear, because your house isn't safe. Probably, realistically, your house could be condemned in its current condition, and you might be charged with elder abuse. That little voice talks sometimes so very quietly however.
The voice is easier to ignore, too, when coupled with mom's extreme desire to always be going somewhere. Sometimes it can be easy to work. Sometimes it can be hard to argue with her all the time that you need to work.
Still, even when i have time off, all too often i spend it not working.
Lord, please forgive me.
Today, however, i did get into my room for a bit. i pulled out clothes, emptied a box, and have begun the arduous task of washing all of the mouse feces and urine infested garments from my past (and my sisters' pasts, and my mothers' past, etc.). The things located therein presented some interesting thoughts, reflections on who i am and who i have been:
-bloomers. How many people looking at me now would believe i was ever a cheerleader, much less the captain of the squad?????
-my first string bikini (and a series of other bikinis). i, the girl who protests with some anger every summer that there just aren't discreet suits for skinny women, used to own and love a string bikini.
-girly underclothes. About which i was actually excited.
-sports bras. about which i used to be really excited. (sports bras just don't go so well with businesswear though.)
-a "go hard big dick" shirt. which i used to wear proudly all over campus. sigh.
-running clothes, running clothes, running clothes. This last one made me sad. Where is the girl who used to run all over the place, who never even considered not running? i miss her. let's get her back.
-cute "date" dresses. which will likely be worn to church. There isn't much in my life right now which requires dressing up enough for a cute night out dress. Still, it makes me happy that i have reached a phase in my life where i could see myself wearing it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
and here we go again..........
Doing even the simplest tasks can become very complicated when dealing with dementia. Take my current search for a lawn mower. Our lawn has become a small jungle, since our last mower, which i could never get to start and keep going for an entire lawn, died. So, me being the quasi-hippie i am, i decided that i wanted to buy a reel mower- the old fashioned kind that you push (and you never have to start). They're green, they're more fun, they're quiet, they don't spew chunks of debris at ferocious speeds, they don't spout noxious fumes, and did i mention that you never have to start them? i have an issue with starting mowers.
So, in my previous life, this experience might have gone something like this:
1.) online research into mowers
2.) call around to see if anyone local sells mowers
3.) make decision as to location; buy mower.
4.) mow lawn.
Now, it goes something like this:
1.) online research into mowers (while mom walks around me trying to get me to do other things because she's bored.)
2.) tell mom to get ready, we'll go see if (local small town) has a mower, or we will drive to (local city) to get one. (This helps with the boredom.)
3.) attempt to call around to see if anyone local sells mower, while mom asks for help cleaning her feet, asks me who i'm talking to (she's certain she knows them, and likely she does), and insists, repeatedly, that we do not need a new mower. She just paid for one. We have one, too. Downstairs. We do not need a mower. Why aren't we driving there? Don't call, let's just drive. Why do we have to go. Can we go? What are we going for again?
4.) Find local distributor who can order a mower, slightly more expensive than chain store mower, but online reviews claim it handles very tall grass (which we have). It can be ordered likely to arrive in a day or two.
5.) Drive to order mower. (Mom insists this needs to be done in person.) Stand and smile as she asks a million times (hyperbole) what we are doing, try not to seem domineering as i insist that we do need one and proceed to try to order it over her protests. Smile as she chats up the store clerk, and, invariably, asks them to find me a man.
6. ) Wait for mower to come in. Repeat step five, only with picking up mower not ordering mower. Continue to smile as she tells them she should have known better than to have me and asks them to find me a man.
7.) Mow lawn.
Steps 5-7 haven't occurred yet, but likely will in the near future, as, though it's 20 dollars or so more expensive, i think i will go with small local distributor. The mower rates well, the people know us, and i like to help out the small local guy. (quasi hippie, remember?)
Or, take my morning, which in the past might have gone thus:
1.)Wake up to a phone call about youth group business.
2.)Do youth group business.
3.)Facebook slightly (relieves frustration).
4.)Do devotions
5.)Walk dog
6.)Eat
Wake up to a phone call about youth group business. Go to computer to deal with business. Tell mom, repeatedly, that i am doing youth group business. Deal with business. Check facebook briefly, until mom mentions to the dog that it's time to walk. Once this occurs, it's time for a walk- no questions asked.
Walk. This goes pleasantly. Mom takes the leash for much of the walk. Return to house to read devotions (normally done before walk, but youth group business messed things up.) Tell mom dog just got a walk, and does not need another one so soon.
Read just a little before mom becomes convinced that she dropped something out of her pants, and needs to go back over walking route to check. Assure her that she will be taken if she can just wait until Bible reading is done. She goes out alone........
......... and comes back in with something in a piece of towel. Finish Bible reading quickly (was very near the end at this point anyway) and go outside at her insistence to inspect towel contents. Assure her it did not come from her, take it out of potted plant where she deposits it, and throw it away. Insist she washes hands; concede the soap part as a defeat.
Walk back around the block with mom and dog (she invited him again) to make really sure that she did not drop something out of her pants. Look at spots she points out (leaves, tar, stains, etc.) to assure her they did not come from her. Tell her, repeatedly, not to touch random stuff on road. Watch as she does it anyway. Come home, and tell her to wash hands. Lose that battle, chasing her outback and insisting she not touch the clean clothes pins until she does. Give up, go get antibacterial hand wipe for her.
Go with family to get food (as mom really likes to drive to nearby town). Differentiate between the really old sub she found in car (totally didn't know she stashed it there) and the sub she bought today, based on vegetable content. Pray she didn't eat the old sub before she showed it to me.
Okay, she's waited long enough while i wrote this. She is getting antsy. So off to order mower.
So, in my previous life, this experience might have gone something like this:
1.) online research into mowers
2.) call around to see if anyone local sells mowers
3.) make decision as to location; buy mower.
4.) mow lawn.
Now, it goes something like this:
1.) online research into mowers (while mom walks around me trying to get me to do other things because she's bored.)
2.) tell mom to get ready, we'll go see if (local small town) has a mower, or we will drive to (local city) to get one. (This helps with the boredom.)
3.) attempt to call around to see if anyone local sells mower, while mom asks for help cleaning her feet, asks me who i'm talking to (she's certain she knows them, and likely she does), and insists, repeatedly, that we do not need a new mower. She just paid for one. We have one, too. Downstairs. We do not need a mower. Why aren't we driving there? Don't call, let's just drive. Why do we have to go. Can we go? What are we going for again?
4.) Find local distributor who can order a mower, slightly more expensive than chain store mower, but online reviews claim it handles very tall grass (which we have). It can be ordered likely to arrive in a day or two.
5.) Drive to order mower. (Mom insists this needs to be done in person.) Stand and smile as she asks a million times (hyperbole) what we are doing, try not to seem domineering as i insist that we do need one and proceed to try to order it over her protests. Smile as she chats up the store clerk, and, invariably, asks them to find me a man.
6. ) Wait for mower to come in. Repeat step five, only with picking up mower not ordering mower. Continue to smile as she tells them she should have known better than to have me and asks them to find me a man.
7.) Mow lawn.
Steps 5-7 haven't occurred yet, but likely will in the near future, as, though it's 20 dollars or so more expensive, i think i will go with small local distributor. The mower rates well, the people know us, and i like to help out the small local guy. (quasi hippie, remember?)
Or, take my morning, which in the past might have gone thus:
1.)Wake up to a phone call about youth group business.
2.)Do youth group business.
3.)Facebook slightly (relieves frustration).
4.)Do devotions
5.)Walk dog
6.)Eat
Wake up to a phone call about youth group business. Go to computer to deal with business. Tell mom, repeatedly, that i am doing youth group business. Deal with business. Check facebook briefly, until mom mentions to the dog that it's time to walk. Once this occurs, it's time for a walk- no questions asked.
Walk. This goes pleasantly. Mom takes the leash for much of the walk. Return to house to read devotions (normally done before walk, but youth group business messed things up.) Tell mom dog just got a walk, and does not need another one so soon.
Read just a little before mom becomes convinced that she dropped something out of her pants, and needs to go back over walking route to check. Assure her that she will be taken if she can just wait until Bible reading is done. She goes out alone........
......... and comes back in with something in a piece of towel. Finish Bible reading quickly (was very near the end at this point anyway) and go outside at her insistence to inspect towel contents. Assure her it did not come from her, take it out of potted plant where she deposits it, and throw it away. Insist she washes hands; concede the soap part as a defeat.
Walk back around the block with mom and dog (she invited him again) to make really sure that she did not drop something out of her pants. Look at spots she points out (leaves, tar, stains, etc.) to assure her they did not come from her. Tell her, repeatedly, not to touch random stuff on road. Watch as she does it anyway. Come home, and tell her to wash hands. Lose that battle, chasing her outback and insisting she not touch the clean clothes pins until she does. Give up, go get antibacterial hand wipe for her.
Go with family to get food (as mom really likes to drive to nearby town). Differentiate between the really old sub she found in car (totally didn't know she stashed it there) and the sub she bought today, based on vegetable content. Pray she didn't eat the old sub before she showed it to me.
Okay, she's waited long enough while i wrote this. She is getting antsy. So off to order mower.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
On local brats and impsih rugrats
Two posts ago i began the story of the kickball game in the park. It never was finished. So i thought i'd catch you all up (unsure if anyone reads this, i'll continue to pretend, for my sake, that i'm not just writing into a vast nothingness.)
So there we were- the adults. Parents sitting there watching their young children play kickball with the town's teenage miscreants, and me. The parents appeared to have gathered by unspken accord, that they needed to supervise in case of trouble. At least that is why they gathered originally. In time it appeared as if they gathered more to enjoy the spectacle, and to indulge for an evening in the small town tradition of slow paced comraderie. i pretended to be there to observe the same, but really i was watching mom, who had gone into the tennis court to participate, with the same trepidations the others had for their small children.
These teenagers suprised me, surprised us all i dare say. For that night, at least, they were not the town miscreants. They were responsible, caring instructors and referees. When a child hurt himself, they gathered around him and kindly, and with some child wrangling skills, first ascertained that he was alright and then cajoled him into accepting it. They let mom kick, and the younger kids took turns running for her. They dealt with her with a respect and patience that not all adults show; they did not seem annoyed, they did not visibly roll their eyes, they cast no looks of pity my way. They were only gentle, and friendly, and familiar. They were wonderful. At one point a stray ball struck her eye, brusing her a bit as the plastic on her glasses dug into her face. They ran to her, making sure she was okay. The one who caused the ball to fly at her disappeared shortly thereafter; i feared he felt too guilty to stay.
Why do we not give our youth a chance????? They are better than we think, and need to be respected. i think this may be why they were so good to my mom, because in her heyday she embodied this truth. For years we have had the rough and tumble kids of local society run to her and hug her, stop to show her their children, or sit upon our porch to visit her. Though she may have butted heads with them in iss, she really cared abou tthem, and they seemed to realize this. i fancy that it is why our house has not been more often vandalized, though some others around us have suffered. God gave her a gift. May we all learn from it. Thank God it seems to be coming back to help her now, in her vulnerable time.
So there we were- the adults. Parents sitting there watching their young children play kickball with the town's teenage miscreants, and me. The parents appeared to have gathered by unspken accord, that they needed to supervise in case of trouble. At least that is why they gathered originally. In time it appeared as if they gathered more to enjoy the spectacle, and to indulge for an evening in the small town tradition of slow paced comraderie. i pretended to be there to observe the same, but really i was watching mom, who had gone into the tennis court to participate, with the same trepidations the others had for their small children.
These teenagers suprised me, surprised us all i dare say. For that night, at least, they were not the town miscreants. They were responsible, caring instructors and referees. When a child hurt himself, they gathered around him and kindly, and with some child wrangling skills, first ascertained that he was alright and then cajoled him into accepting it. They let mom kick, and the younger kids took turns running for her. They dealt with her with a respect and patience that not all adults show; they did not seem annoyed, they did not visibly roll their eyes, they cast no looks of pity my way. They were only gentle, and friendly, and familiar. They were wonderful. At one point a stray ball struck her eye, brusing her a bit as the plastic on her glasses dug into her face. They ran to her, making sure she was okay. The one who caused the ball to fly at her disappeared shortly thereafter; i feared he felt too guilty to stay.
Why do we not give our youth a chance????? They are better than we think, and need to be respected. i think this may be why they were so good to my mom, because in her heyday she embodied this truth. For years we have had the rough and tumble kids of local society run to her and hug her, stop to show her their children, or sit upon our porch to visit her. Though she may have butted heads with them in iss, she really cared abou tthem, and they seemed to realize this. i fancy that it is why our house has not been more often vandalized, though some others around us have suffered. God gave her a gift. May we all learn from it. Thank God it seems to be coming back to help her now, in her vulnerable time.
If fashion is your trade, then when you're naked, i guess you must be unemployed.
The title has nothing to do with this post. It's just one of my favorite lines, and it has been stuck in my head all morning. It's a song by pulp., underwear. In my younger, wilder days i was an avid pulp fan. Listen to me, "younger, wilder days". i'm just shy of thirty. Yet my lingering middle aged housewife feeling remains; the other day at the fair i even looked at a surviving a midlife crisis book. Mostly as a joke.
So much happens in my life; i'm going to endeavor to be more faithful in posting to this blog at least. This is where i chronicle my life most truthfully, perhaps. This is where i can tell stories like the one below. Because this is where i have anonymity; well relative anonymity. Those who have been given the link to this and know me in real life are those i trust not to take it amiss. i hope.
Mom is degrading. Not in any major way, and she is still very strong in many ways. Yesterday, as a test, i assigned her to put the calendar numbers in numerical order. (We were up helping a kindergarten instructor friend prepare her room for the new year, and had just cut new calendar numbers out of lamination.) She was able to do so, only asking me a few times whether i wanted the lower numbers on top. This was a small victory in my eyes, a confirmation that she was still okay. Though it is somewhat sad for this to be my victory, that my brilliant mother can put 31 cards in numerical order.
The idea that this isn't really alzheimers still haunts me, the idea that it might be something infinitely curable, and i'm ignoring the treatment under the assumption that it is untreatable. i want to make her an appointment with a psychiatrist, just to be fully evaluated. This, of course, will cost money. we do what we can though, right?????
i've run around the block, speaking of money, of late trying to find ways to keep mom's. Basically, the end result is, that if she ever needs subsidized care, we cannot. They will take all of our inheritance (which we turned over to her years ago to manage for us), and they will force me to sell the house. There is no way easy, or even moderately difficult, way around it- she is being punished, in my eyes, for being responsible. My parents had our house paid off when i was a child, and they did not mortgage it. They were always very proud of this. She did not spend the inheritance when daddy died, she carefully saved it in an account for us. Now they will take this, to provide her with the same care they offer freely to those less responsible, who mortgaged their houses three times and squandered their money into thousands of dollars of debt. i'm going, i think, to talk to a recommended elder care attorney, but my tentative current plan, then, is to spend it. Spend it on her care, else they might make me pay it back, and spend it on house repairs (it being her house apparently that is accpetable in their eyes too.) For this year, while we sort this all out, i plan on setting an account up from this money to pay a companion while i'm at work. Next year we will revisit my move to lackawanna county to get her into the good adult day care.
For now, her attachment to this town is so strong i would hate to move her. This is against advice. People tell me that if i took her to the better program, she'd be better off. She would think she knew everyone anyway, and would adjust. i'm afraid, though, that to change her environment might cause a tramatic decline. Plus, she loves this town, and its people. Best yet, the people here know her. They are okay with her wandering, and her questions. The talk with her, and repeat themselves with a smile. If she is in trouble, they call me. People in an unknown town might not do so.
The bicentennial event was the highlight of her summer, i think. It was our borough's 150th anniversary, and our township's 200th. She spent most of the weekend at it, dressed up for most of it, talking with people, being recognized and loved. During the parade she was almost crying, and thanked God repeatedly for it, and that she had been allowed to see it. This is why we are staying here, in this run down house, at least in part. This is why i do not want to move her. She is still e., though he disease has changed who that is bit.
So much happens in my life; i'm going to endeavor to be more faithful in posting to this blog at least. This is where i chronicle my life most truthfully, perhaps. This is where i can tell stories like the one below. Because this is where i have anonymity; well relative anonymity. Those who have been given the link to this and know me in real life are those i trust not to take it amiss. i hope.
Mom is degrading. Not in any major way, and she is still very strong in many ways. Yesterday, as a test, i assigned her to put the calendar numbers in numerical order. (We were up helping a kindergarten instructor friend prepare her room for the new year, and had just cut new calendar numbers out of lamination.) She was able to do so, only asking me a few times whether i wanted the lower numbers on top. This was a small victory in my eyes, a confirmation that she was still okay. Though it is somewhat sad for this to be my victory, that my brilliant mother can put 31 cards in numerical order.
The idea that this isn't really alzheimers still haunts me, the idea that it might be something infinitely curable, and i'm ignoring the treatment under the assumption that it is untreatable. i want to make her an appointment with a psychiatrist, just to be fully evaluated. This, of course, will cost money. we do what we can though, right?????
i've run around the block, speaking of money, of late trying to find ways to keep mom's. Basically, the end result is, that if she ever needs subsidized care, we cannot. They will take all of our inheritance (which we turned over to her years ago to manage for us), and they will force me to sell the house. There is no way easy, or even moderately difficult, way around it- she is being punished, in my eyes, for being responsible. My parents had our house paid off when i was a child, and they did not mortgage it. They were always very proud of this. She did not spend the inheritance when daddy died, she carefully saved it in an account for us. Now they will take this, to provide her with the same care they offer freely to those less responsible, who mortgaged their houses three times and squandered their money into thousands of dollars of debt. i'm going, i think, to talk to a recommended elder care attorney, but my tentative current plan, then, is to spend it. Spend it on her care, else they might make me pay it back, and spend it on house repairs (it being her house apparently that is accpetable in their eyes too.) For this year, while we sort this all out, i plan on setting an account up from this money to pay a companion while i'm at work. Next year we will revisit my move to lackawanna county to get her into the good adult day care.
For now, her attachment to this town is so strong i would hate to move her. This is against advice. People tell me that if i took her to the better program, she'd be better off. She would think she knew everyone anyway, and would adjust. i'm afraid, though, that to change her environment might cause a tramatic decline. Plus, she loves this town, and its people. Best yet, the people here know her. They are okay with her wandering, and her questions. The talk with her, and repeat themselves with a smile. If she is in trouble, they call me. People in an unknown town might not do so.
The bicentennial event was the highlight of her summer, i think. It was our borough's 150th anniversary, and our township's 200th. She spent most of the weekend at it, dressed up for most of it, talking with people, being recognized and loved. During the parade she was almost crying, and thanked God repeatedly for it, and that she had been allowed to see it. This is why we are staying here, in this run down house, at least in part. This is why i do not want to move her. She is still e., though he disease has changed who that is bit.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
on three walks a day.....
So yesterday, along the lines of still alice and making the present memorable, we went for three walks. It was her fault, really, but it made her soooo happy to see buddy standing there, wagging his tail, and it opened up the opportunity for long walks together as i teased her about making me come- it was delightful. The dog didn't suffer, exercise is good fo both of us, it was just great.
Then, that evening, before the third walk, she started playing baseball with the triplets next door. See, in her former life, she and my daddy coached little league. It was a huge part of their lives for about twelve years- when he died unexpectedly the little league association retired the team. They were good at it, and for years mom continued to attend the games "her kids" played in, until they all began to graduate and did not play locally so much anymore. To watch her, then, pitching (with surprising accuracy) to a little league child again, it did us both so much good. She is still my mom, the person she was. She is not walking dementia. She is who she always was; it's just a little bit harder for that woman to reach out and connect with the world, and for the world to connect to her.
Part-way through the walk, we noticed that some of the younger kids we had just been playing with had had their kickball game taken over by the town's teenage "miscreants". These were kids who had been yelling out to mom all day, the kids she had in in-school suspension. i wasn't sure if they were making fun of her, or would treat her well, various kids had done both in the past. She's come down the stairs whispering about our first walk of today just now, so i'll have to finish this story later. :OD.
Then, that evening, before the third walk, she started playing baseball with the triplets next door. See, in her former life, she and my daddy coached little league. It was a huge part of their lives for about twelve years- when he died unexpectedly the little league association retired the team. They were good at it, and for years mom continued to attend the games "her kids" played in, until they all began to graduate and did not play locally so much anymore. To watch her, then, pitching (with surprising accuracy) to a little league child again, it did us both so much good. She is still my mom, the person she was. She is not walking dementia. She is who she always was; it's just a little bit harder for that woman to reach out and connect with the world, and for the world to connect to her.
Part-way through the walk, we noticed that some of the younger kids we had just been playing with had had their kickball game taken over by the town's teenage "miscreants". These were kids who had been yelling out to mom all day, the kids she had in in-school suspension. i wasn't sure if they were making fun of her, or would treat her well, various kids had done both in the past. She's come down the stairs whispering about our first walk of today just now, so i'll have to finish this story later. :OD.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
ain't life a mystery.....
It is much too late. It's 3:20 pm, and i've been reading for quite a while. The tears run down my face, and salt streaks have frozen and made it feel sticky. This is the sign of a good book. It is not the sign of a productive day, one i meant to spend cleaning, and calling to get out the money we need, and doing chores. i find myself not really feeling guilty, however.
i just finished "still alice" by lisa genova. i'd recommend this book to anyone, but it has special meaning for those of us touched by alzheimers, and those of us who know that there is a very real chance we may someday have it.
The book made me really consider this latter possibility, but it was in my mind from the House on Beartown Road as well. Like Ms. Cohen, i sometimes catch myself testing my memory, searching for break and blips which should cause concern. When you spend your time with the memory impaired, sometimes you almost become brought into their world. At times i need to stop and think of what day it is when mom asks. This is partially a result of not working, and partially, i think, the result of spending my time in her flux, an area where the day matters only in an inconsequential way, and what is now is what is vital.
Alzheimers is genetic. My grandpa had it, my mom has it (or some form of progressive dementia), and "alice" cites genetic markers that are associated with at least the early onset type. Children have a 50% chance of inheriting these markers, and people with them will get the disease. Part of me is frightened by this, but part of me is not. i may not live until my older years, though Lord willing i will. The job, at any age, is to live life the best you can, such that you would not have any regrets, and you try to please God.
The book also talks about people who are very intelligent being more likely to contract it, as if they use so much earlier in life that their brains are simply tired later. At times, this almost makes me scared, almost makes me, in irrational spurts, think it would be better to be less smart. This isn't something i truly feel or hope, however, merely something my mind formulates as a jerking smasmodic terror reaction and i pray that Lord willing this would not happen that my abilities and capabilities remain and i thank God for them.
Basically, i'm just being honest in this post. Sorry for the rambling nature. Sorry for the irrational nature. If i'm doing this, however, as an honest glimpse into what my life is like now, it is important that i write such tings down even if they are nonsensical. May nothing, Lord willing, bad come of them. Thank Him for everything!!!!! Perhaps the best thing i received from this book, the most worthwhile, is contemplation on keeping mom where she is. In the book alice, the main character, wants to remain in cambridge. When she is taken elsewhere, even to her vacation home in one scene, she is agitated, and wants to return. i struggle so with the decision to either take mom somewhere where she can get better care, or leave her here in familiar surroundings. She does not want to go, however, she has told me so. A few years ago, when the flood was threatening our home, and others were evacuating, she refused to leave. This is her home. How can i presume that i know best, and take her from what she knows????? Another great lesson from the book is when alice is talking of her own experiences as someone with the disease. She asks those present to look her in the eye and remember that she still can make decisions, that she is still herself. She also points out that the past is foggy, and the future uncertain, but she can live in the present. Let's all make the present as pleasant as possible, whether it will be remembered or not, okay?????
i just finished "still alice" by lisa genova. i'd recommend this book to anyone, but it has special meaning for those of us touched by alzheimers, and those of us who know that there is a very real chance we may someday have it.
The book made me really consider this latter possibility, but it was in my mind from the House on Beartown Road as well. Like Ms. Cohen, i sometimes catch myself testing my memory, searching for break and blips which should cause concern. When you spend your time with the memory impaired, sometimes you almost become brought into their world. At times i need to stop and think of what day it is when mom asks. This is partially a result of not working, and partially, i think, the result of spending my time in her flux, an area where the day matters only in an inconsequential way, and what is now is what is vital.
Alzheimers is genetic. My grandpa had it, my mom has it (or some form of progressive dementia), and "alice" cites genetic markers that are associated with at least the early onset type. Children have a 50% chance of inheriting these markers, and people with them will get the disease. Part of me is frightened by this, but part of me is not. i may not live until my older years, though Lord willing i will. The job, at any age, is to live life the best you can, such that you would not have any regrets, and you try to please God.
The book also talks about people who are very intelligent being more likely to contract it, as if they use so much earlier in life that their brains are simply tired later. At times, this almost makes me scared, almost makes me, in irrational spurts, think it would be better to be less smart. This isn't something i truly feel or hope, however, merely something my mind formulates as a jerking smasmodic terror reaction and i pray that Lord willing this would not happen that my abilities and capabilities remain and i thank God for them.
Basically, i'm just being honest in this post. Sorry for the rambling nature. Sorry for the irrational nature. If i'm doing this, however, as an honest glimpse into what my life is like now, it is important that i write such tings down even if they are nonsensical. May nothing, Lord willing, bad come of them. Thank Him for everything!!!!! Perhaps the best thing i received from this book, the most worthwhile, is contemplation on keeping mom where she is. In the book alice, the main character, wants to remain in cambridge. When she is taken elsewhere, even to her vacation home in one scene, she is agitated, and wants to return. i struggle so with the decision to either take mom somewhere where she can get better care, or leave her here in familiar surroundings. She does not want to go, however, she has told me so. A few years ago, when the flood was threatening our home, and others were evacuating, she refused to leave. This is her home. How can i presume that i know best, and take her from what she knows????? Another great lesson from the book is when alice is talking of her own experiences as someone with the disease. She asks those present to look her in the eye and remember that she still can make decisions, that she is still herself. She also points out that the past is foggy, and the future uncertain, but she can live in the present. Let's all make the present as pleasant as possible, whether it will be remembered or not, okay?????
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
i'm just a girl in the world.........
On mopping in the nude:
The other day i joked to a friend, whilst discussing the drinking of wine and how long it had been since i had done so, that i basically live the life of a middle aged housewife. (Telling this tale to a male friend a few days later, i added that i had the body of a middle aged housewife too. He was wise enough to act shocked and disagreeing.) Since that time, however, i have come to realize that, in some ways, this is true.
Take yesterday for instance. i awoke before seven, throwing on clothes and going to work out with my girlfriends before the rest of the house awakens. (A very middle aged housewife thing to do.) This time is such a blessing! It allows me to relieve some stress and feel good about myself, without worrying about where mom is, if the dog has been out, etc. (Thank God for all!!!!!!!!!) When i returned, as is my wont, i did my devotions. Thus, by the time mom is up, two of my largest commitments for the day have been taken care of, and distractions shan't keep them from being done. i then returned to sleep until almost noon. (Bad housewife, bad.) We went for lunch, i came home, mowed the lawn (discovered, i believe, wild strawberries!!!!!), chatted a bit with a friend (weeded the garden while doing so, because, you know, time on the phone is free time for work), and hung up mom's flags.
The flags were an interesting thing. (Aside from the fact that i had a chair completely collapse out from under me, sprawling full length sideways on the porch and, by the grace of God, not being hurt.) It occurred to me that i do so much to make mom happy, things she loves, when really, it is probably for my own good perhaps more than for hers. She loved those flags. Much of my childhood memories revolves around flags, hanging them, admiring them, etc., as well as the other lawn decorations. She probably doesn't even miss them most of the time. i think, however, that by hanging them, i am trying to hold onto her. By frantically pursuing the things that used to be key parts of her personality, i can force her to stay the same. She is not disappearing into dementia. She is still the woman who loves plants, and flags, and baseball. This notwithstanding, the flags did still make her happy. It is my hope that she will never truly lose the woman who was there. So perhaps my efforts aren't only selfish, they keep her there as well.
We're in the midst of a fight now, as i try to force her to do something i know she will want to do later. It is tiring, but so worth it when you see her smile. The other day we went to the fourth of July parade in the town where she used to instruct first grade. She was so happy, even an outside observer who knew her commented to me on what a good time she seemed to be having, when i later ran into him professionally. Tonight, i imagine, will be the same thing. Once at the church softball game she will be happy she went. It is just such a struggle sometimes to make her go.
Back, however, to my housewife life. After hanging flags i decided to shower before my meeting. This required emptying the bathtub into the toilet (currently the only thing in the bathroom that drains properly). Before getting into the shower, since the floor was all wet (it is difficult to do this task neatly and quickly), i decided to mop. Since the shower had water in it for so long, it smelled. As it was empty, i decided to clean it. So i sprayed floor cleaner (method all natural all floor one, i love it and highly recommend it) on the floor, mopped, and scrubbed out the tub and shower. This made me feel delightfully eccentric. Perhaps i am a housewife, the sort who figures that as long as the floor is wet, it might as well be cleaned. i am, however, a hippie eccentric housewife, and that is how i like it. Don't write me off as middle-aged June Cleaver material yet.
i went to work, another borough meeting, and came home to walk the dog with our friends. Then chores, hanging out with bubs, meds for mum (and half awake placebo dispension as well), and sleep.
Did i mention that being a middle aged housewife isn't really all that bad?????
The other day i joked to a friend, whilst discussing the drinking of wine and how long it had been since i had done so, that i basically live the life of a middle aged housewife. (Telling this tale to a male friend a few days later, i added that i had the body of a middle aged housewife too. He was wise enough to act shocked and disagreeing.) Since that time, however, i have come to realize that, in some ways, this is true.
Take yesterday for instance. i awoke before seven, throwing on clothes and going to work out with my girlfriends before the rest of the house awakens. (A very middle aged housewife thing to do.) This time is such a blessing! It allows me to relieve some stress and feel good about myself, without worrying about where mom is, if the dog has been out, etc. (Thank God for all!!!!!!!!!) When i returned, as is my wont, i did my devotions. Thus, by the time mom is up, two of my largest commitments for the day have been taken care of, and distractions shan't keep them from being done. i then returned to sleep until almost noon. (Bad housewife, bad.) We went for lunch, i came home, mowed the lawn (discovered, i believe, wild strawberries!!!!!), chatted a bit with a friend (weeded the garden while doing so, because, you know, time on the phone is free time for work), and hung up mom's flags.
The flags were an interesting thing. (Aside from the fact that i had a chair completely collapse out from under me, sprawling full length sideways on the porch and, by the grace of God, not being hurt.) It occurred to me that i do so much to make mom happy, things she loves, when really, it is probably for my own good perhaps more than for hers. She loved those flags. Much of my childhood memories revolves around flags, hanging them, admiring them, etc., as well as the other lawn decorations. She probably doesn't even miss them most of the time. i think, however, that by hanging them, i am trying to hold onto her. By frantically pursuing the things that used to be key parts of her personality, i can force her to stay the same. She is not disappearing into dementia. She is still the woman who loves plants, and flags, and baseball. This notwithstanding, the flags did still make her happy. It is my hope that she will never truly lose the woman who was there. So perhaps my efforts aren't only selfish, they keep her there as well.
We're in the midst of a fight now, as i try to force her to do something i know she will want to do later. It is tiring, but so worth it when you see her smile. The other day we went to the fourth of July parade in the town where she used to instruct first grade. She was so happy, even an outside observer who knew her commented to me on what a good time she seemed to be having, when i later ran into him professionally. Tonight, i imagine, will be the same thing. Once at the church softball game she will be happy she went. It is just such a struggle sometimes to make her go.
Back, however, to my housewife life. After hanging flags i decided to shower before my meeting. This required emptying the bathtub into the toilet (currently the only thing in the bathroom that drains properly). Before getting into the shower, since the floor was all wet (it is difficult to do this task neatly and quickly), i decided to mop. Since the shower had water in it for so long, it smelled. As it was empty, i decided to clean it. So i sprayed floor cleaner (method all natural all floor one, i love it and highly recommend it) on the floor, mopped, and scrubbed out the tub and shower. This made me feel delightfully eccentric. Perhaps i am a housewife, the sort who figures that as long as the floor is wet, it might as well be cleaned. i am, however, a hippie eccentric housewife, and that is how i like it. Don't write me off as middle-aged June Cleaver material yet.
i went to work, another borough meeting, and came home to walk the dog with our friends. Then chores, hanging out with bubs, meds for mum (and half awake placebo dispension as well), and sleep.
Did i mention that being a middle aged housewife isn't really all that bad?????
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Here comes another song about mexico.......
Life has spiraled into a somewhat comfortable rhythm. Spending a lot more time with mom is a good thing; i almost never leave her alone (she is now, but she is coming to the library soon, and is sitting happily in the car). It seems like every time i leave her alone (and at least once when i didn't) i get a call from someone that she's looking for me. Between this and the agency for the aging nonsense, i pretty much don't leave her alone.
It occurs to me how much caregiving for the elderly is akin to being a parent, but with some great differences. It is like parenting, in that you have to watch out for them and "mother" them. If i don't hand mom her toothbrush, she may not brush her teeth. If i don't force her to shower, she probably won't. If i don't monitor her medicine, she may not take it. If she "loses" me, she will wander around town, asking people, until she finds me. Sometimes i feel like her confidence and personality have become intertwined with me, like she has imprinted on me to a point. She uses my presence as an emotional boost, feeling more confident, more able to present a facade of normalcy. Sometimes it dries me crazy, like when she honks the horn to bring me back outside when i'm trying to relax or busy myself inside, or when, while cleaning, she simply must come in to see what i'm doing and beg me to amuse her.
i realize, though, that being a parent would be much, much, worse. i could not send a four year old outside for hours on end to do word puzzles. i couldn't leave a four year old at home in the car doing her puzzles. In some ways it is better to be a caregiver than a parent.
In some ways it is worse, at least never having been a parent i am convinced this is so. A woman with dementia is rarely, if ever, wrong. She is virtually impossible to argue with. In her mind what she is saying is the irrefutable truth. You can argue all you want, but she really did pay that bill last week. She isn't lying. It is like what has always been true for my eldest sister, who's delirium (for lack of a better term) has always come from mental illness not dementia. To her, it is every bit as true as the sky being blue is to us. If someone came to me and adamantly tried telling me that the sky was chartreuse, i would insist i knew what was going on. People with dementia, at least in my limited experience, seem to fill in the giant gaps in their memory with that which they decide must be true. This can be frustrating, but in reality, i suppose we ought to be thanking God for the coping mechanism. She is less miserable this way, i believe, as she does not see giant holes in her memory. She sees reality; it simply isn't the reality the rest of us know.
It might almost make one wonder if she weren't the one who truly knew things to be true. Sometimes this has been the case. Like the time when she asserted vehemently that the dog had been in her room, or the time she claimed she knew the man in the doctor's office, sometimes my doubts are unfounded. Bubs caught the dog jumping the barrier from upstairs one time when he doubled back quickly to check on something. We had simply been assuming she was "crazy".
Back to that rhythym- it is one of laziness, i'm afraid, but probably one full of time i will treasure some day. i justify my laziness as mom time sometimes, but i know that during the spaces when she is content, and lets me be, i am not nearly as productive as i ought to be. Were the agency on the aging to actually enter our house, i am certain i would be in trouble. It still desperatly needs to be cleaned. Lord willing i will spend my time more wisely.
For now, however, either we sleep in, or i awaken early to exercise with a friend. On the days where the latter occurs, i generally sneak back inside before mom has awakened, and do my devotions. It is a blessing, thank God for it, and for all!!!!!!!!! It is time to get two of my major committments done early, and before the day requires otherwise of me. It is my time alone (well with the undertaker, her mom, and God of course), it prepares me for the day ahead. It is amazing.
Mom in time comes downstairs, and we take buddy for a walk. This time is also a blessing, a gift from a benevolent Father. He gives me these trips around town in which she is happy, and young, and normal, and we chat, or i daydream, or we just walk- sometimes together, sometimes seperated by some distance, but generally together at least in theory. Then it is nearly lunch time, and we get food and her papers. i try to talk her into spending a decent chunk of time in the car doing her puzzles, while i clean, or weed, or work, or kill time inside. Sometimes i have more success at this than at other times.
At some point she gets stir crazy, and we go for ice cream, (we go nearly every day and i do not feel so guilty about this as she will eat it, and her weight at the last appointment was a slightly alarming 116 pounds), or check for games, or run some errand. At times we hang out at the library, or we run an errand i have, or i make up.
At night we often walk again, with friends of mine. She doesn't often walk with us at these times, but she walks at the same time. At times my friend's young daughter takes her in hand, literally, running to be with her, walking hand in hand and chatting. This is so good for her. Last night, after we dropped off the dog, we continued our journey and she walked hand in hand with one of my friends until we turned, and with the little girl the rest of the time. This was so sweet.
Other days she goes to work with me, sitting in the car while i do my meetings. Depending on her mood she may leave the car while i'm at work, and wander the halls of the school we're at. The janitors are usually wonderful to her, and i do not worry. Some might censure me for this, but really, what am i to do otherwise????? She enjoys being out, and, for the reasons aforementioned, i do not desire to leave her alone.
i try to remember, though at times i fail, to get her fed early enough that she will eat. There is some success to be had, however, in waiting until she goes upstairs and bringing her a yogurt, or a perogi, or something, and then sitting with her while she eats it. When my mood is as it should be, and hers is as well, we might watch tv together- it helps her relax before bed, and is bonding time. Too often, however, i become selfish, and go downstairs to do my own thing while she readies herself. i need to get her medicine to her before she falls asleep, or before i do at least, and then i go downstairs for bed. i lie in my chair, in my sleeping bag, once my nightime chores are done- the dog and cats are fed, dinner is eaten and the remainder left in the oven for bubs when he gets home- and watch television, read, or play on the computer. Quite often i watch scrubs, which show i've begun to love, until midnight, and talk with bubs some after he returns.
i go to sleep, and the cycle begins again. As i said, it's a nice rhythym, one i thank God for, though at times it feels dull and regular, housewifish.
A friend of mine recently wrote that her life was "not the one she ordered". This got me thinking. Mine isn't either, but i'm happy in it. Having mom with me is worth it, even despite frustrations. Thank You Lord for my life as it is. :OD.
It occurs to me how much caregiving for the elderly is akin to being a parent, but with some great differences. It is like parenting, in that you have to watch out for them and "mother" them. If i don't hand mom her toothbrush, she may not brush her teeth. If i don't force her to shower, she probably won't. If i don't monitor her medicine, she may not take it. If she "loses" me, she will wander around town, asking people, until she finds me. Sometimes i feel like her confidence and personality have become intertwined with me, like she has imprinted on me to a point. She uses my presence as an emotional boost, feeling more confident, more able to present a facade of normalcy. Sometimes it dries me crazy, like when she honks the horn to bring me back outside when i'm trying to relax or busy myself inside, or when, while cleaning, she simply must come in to see what i'm doing and beg me to amuse her.
i realize, though, that being a parent would be much, much, worse. i could not send a four year old outside for hours on end to do word puzzles. i couldn't leave a four year old at home in the car doing her puzzles. In some ways it is better to be a caregiver than a parent.
In some ways it is worse, at least never having been a parent i am convinced this is so. A woman with dementia is rarely, if ever, wrong. She is virtually impossible to argue with. In her mind what she is saying is the irrefutable truth. You can argue all you want, but she really did pay that bill last week. She isn't lying. It is like what has always been true for my eldest sister, who's delirium (for lack of a better term) has always come from mental illness not dementia. To her, it is every bit as true as the sky being blue is to us. If someone came to me and adamantly tried telling me that the sky was chartreuse, i would insist i knew what was going on. People with dementia, at least in my limited experience, seem to fill in the giant gaps in their memory with that which they decide must be true. This can be frustrating, but in reality, i suppose we ought to be thanking God for the coping mechanism. She is less miserable this way, i believe, as she does not see giant holes in her memory. She sees reality; it simply isn't the reality the rest of us know.
It might almost make one wonder if she weren't the one who truly knew things to be true. Sometimes this has been the case. Like the time when she asserted vehemently that the dog had been in her room, or the time she claimed she knew the man in the doctor's office, sometimes my doubts are unfounded. Bubs caught the dog jumping the barrier from upstairs one time when he doubled back quickly to check on something. We had simply been assuming she was "crazy".
Back to that rhythym- it is one of laziness, i'm afraid, but probably one full of time i will treasure some day. i justify my laziness as mom time sometimes, but i know that during the spaces when she is content, and lets me be, i am not nearly as productive as i ought to be. Were the agency on the aging to actually enter our house, i am certain i would be in trouble. It still desperatly needs to be cleaned. Lord willing i will spend my time more wisely.
For now, however, either we sleep in, or i awaken early to exercise with a friend. On the days where the latter occurs, i generally sneak back inside before mom has awakened, and do my devotions. It is a blessing, thank God for it, and for all!!!!!!!!! It is time to get two of my major committments done early, and before the day requires otherwise of me. It is my time alone (well with the undertaker, her mom, and God of course), it prepares me for the day ahead. It is amazing.
Mom in time comes downstairs, and we take buddy for a walk. This time is also a blessing, a gift from a benevolent Father. He gives me these trips around town in which she is happy, and young, and normal, and we chat, or i daydream, or we just walk- sometimes together, sometimes seperated by some distance, but generally together at least in theory. Then it is nearly lunch time, and we get food and her papers. i try to talk her into spending a decent chunk of time in the car doing her puzzles, while i clean, or weed, or work, or kill time inside. Sometimes i have more success at this than at other times.
At some point she gets stir crazy, and we go for ice cream, (we go nearly every day and i do not feel so guilty about this as she will eat it, and her weight at the last appointment was a slightly alarming 116 pounds), or check for games, or run some errand. At times we hang out at the library, or we run an errand i have, or i make up.
At night we often walk again, with friends of mine. She doesn't often walk with us at these times, but she walks at the same time. At times my friend's young daughter takes her in hand, literally, running to be with her, walking hand in hand and chatting. This is so good for her. Last night, after we dropped off the dog, we continued our journey and she walked hand in hand with one of my friends until we turned, and with the little girl the rest of the time. This was so sweet.
Other days she goes to work with me, sitting in the car while i do my meetings. Depending on her mood she may leave the car while i'm at work, and wander the halls of the school we're at. The janitors are usually wonderful to her, and i do not worry. Some might censure me for this, but really, what am i to do otherwise????? She enjoys being out, and, for the reasons aforementioned, i do not desire to leave her alone.
i try to remember, though at times i fail, to get her fed early enough that she will eat. There is some success to be had, however, in waiting until she goes upstairs and bringing her a yogurt, or a perogi, or something, and then sitting with her while she eats it. When my mood is as it should be, and hers is as well, we might watch tv together- it helps her relax before bed, and is bonding time. Too often, however, i become selfish, and go downstairs to do my own thing while she readies herself. i need to get her medicine to her before she falls asleep, or before i do at least, and then i go downstairs for bed. i lie in my chair, in my sleeping bag, once my nightime chores are done- the dog and cats are fed, dinner is eaten and the remainder left in the oven for bubs when he gets home- and watch television, read, or play on the computer. Quite often i watch scrubs, which show i've begun to love, until midnight, and talk with bubs some after he returns.
i go to sleep, and the cycle begins again. As i said, it's a nice rhythym, one i thank God for, though at times it feels dull and regular, housewifish.
A friend of mine recently wrote that her life was "not the one she ordered". This got me thinking. Mine isn't either, but i'm happy in it. Having mom with me is worth it, even despite frustrations. Thank You Lord for my life as it is. :OD.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
i hear You whisper through the rain
God has been really good to me lately. A few days this week, i have really wondered if i could make it, through the day, through the hour, through the minutes. i prayed to God though, and He helped me through. He made it possible. i don't have to make it through, God can for me. That, to put it simply, is amazing, and wonderful.
Thank God!!!!!!!!! Praise God!!!!!!!!! God is wonderful!!!!!!!!!
Thank God!!!!!!!!! Praise God!!!!!!!!! God is wonderful!!!!!!!!!
Friday, June 12, 2009
help the aged, cause one day we'll be lonely too.
i just wanted to briefly try to explain part of why i so do not want to put mom in a home. i don't know if anyone not undergoing this, or who hasn't, could understand the value of the sweet moments. There are times, sweet moments, when we are together, when she is so happy. She has thanked me before for staying with her, while walking the dog. We walk together in the mornings sometimes, when the heat has not yet risen, just the three of us, chatting and joking. In those moments we are normal, and we are happy. She doesn't have dementia, she isn't slowly losing herself. She is a woman walking with her daughter. Am i to rob her of this normalcy, of these moments?
Some of my favorite moments occur when she is asleep. Often on the way home from the doctor, a grand affair. It takes so much stress and work to get her ready to go to the doctor, but once we have left the time turns into a blessing, and i thank God for these days. She loves the rural 45 minute drive to her doctor's office, and often, while driving home, she dozes off. At these times i love her so much. The scene is so peaceful, and, like a child, she is so trusting and innocent. We have had a good day, maybe shopped, almost certainly gone for ice cream. She has pointed out the houses on the way to and from, convinced that not only does she know who lives there, but i do too. Then she falls asleep, at rest, at peace, not the somewhat difficult to attain and medically induces sleep which often occurs at night, but the quiet inadvertant slumber of the relaxed.
We are a team, mom and i. Maybe i'm not the best caretaker. Maybe we do not do things well, or right, but we are a team. If the Lord wills, i'd really like to try and keep this team together.
Some of my favorite moments occur when she is asleep. Often on the way home from the doctor, a grand affair. It takes so much stress and work to get her ready to go to the doctor, but once we have left the time turns into a blessing, and i thank God for these days. She loves the rural 45 minute drive to her doctor's office, and often, while driving home, she dozes off. At these times i love her so much. The scene is so peaceful, and, like a child, she is so trusting and innocent. We have had a good day, maybe shopped, almost certainly gone for ice cream. She has pointed out the houses on the way to and from, convinced that not only does she know who lives there, but i do too. Then she falls asleep, at rest, at peace, not the somewhat difficult to attain and medically induces sleep which often occurs at night, but the quiet inadvertant slumber of the relaxed.
We are a team, mom and i. Maybe i'm not the best caretaker. Maybe we do not do things well, or right, but we are a team. If the Lord wills, i'd really like to try and keep this team together.
help the aged, don't just put them in a home.
Got a message from the area agency on the aging tonight. Their office has received concerns from community members regarding mom. They want to be contacted as soon as possible. As this is the second time (she was here about a year ago, but left when she realized mom did not live alone and was cared for) "action" may result. i'm not sure what this means, my mind is running amok with the allegations of borderline elder abuse, the potential to be accused, to be required to make repairs to the house we can't afford, to have them declare mom incompetent and force her into a home against her will. Probably none of this will happen, but we'll probably get a list of mandatory changes to make (likely expensive) and be under observation for a while. i'm kind of numbly upset right now; i cried and got angry earlier. i told a friend this week, trying to explain why it upset me, that it was like being told that you were abusing your children, or that someone was accusing you of doing so. i'm going to go give her her medicine, probably skip dinner, and self-medicate with a good book.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
in walks her prince charming, and he knows just what to say
The frustration is back, but it's currently couched in a shy sort of despondent malaise. Earlier, i was worked up. i was angry. i was irritated. i had energy. Now i'm lethargic, forcing myself to write this because i let the experience pass too often, but not really wanting to.
So what worked me up this time????? Last night, for starters, the porch banged again. This has been occurring off and on for maybe a year, loud noises in the night that we always attributed to an animal. Last night it was definitely human, as i heard the footsteps flee. It was maybe 1:30 am. i thank God (for all!!!!!!!!!) but in particular in this case for the boyfriend.
In some ways the boyfriend is my best, non-Divine friend. Don't get me wrong, i love my human best friends, and they do much which the boyfriend cannot. The undertaker (a profession, not a cute nickname), the high school best friend (so close because she's always there), the handful of college chums i still speak with on a regular basis, and the handful of close friends i've picked up since then. None of these, however, get up with me in the middle of the night, serving as the backbone for my false bravado "sic -em", walking next to me as i peer into the dark and daunting unknown. None of them stare out the window for several minutes after i go back to bed, growling low. None of them come and lie next to be, between me and the door, for a long time after that.
This morning, i discovered what appeared to be a footprint on our door. Some punk kid, probably, kicking it to frighten me. He or she succeeded. It is strange to walk toward the door, knowing that, without a man in the house, you are responsible not for your protection (that is God's domain) but for investigating the noise, because it is only you and a dependent in the home.
That is not why i am frustrated now though.
Tonight, the cousin who yelled at us comes and asks my brother to go for a walk. He speaks to me civilly enough as well. i interpose myself into their conversation, after, in good faith, attacking the garbag stack he was screaming about.
That's when the two of them gang up on me. Again. Same old story. "you are ruining your life." (it's my life, remember.) "you are endangering your mom." "you can't care for her." "It will become too much." "What will you do with the house. How will you manage." "Think about it, seriously." Now i may be giving my cousin too little credit, but he's sitting there saying all this, and i'm thinking, "you just want us gone. you don't want mom next to you, and you're couching your annoyance in a facade of care and concern." Later on he lectured me on how i needed a stress break, or i would break. That would be nice, except he then went into how that's why they have three shifts in a home.
i go back, and trudge through the garbage, while bubs stays and chats with the cousins. i was supposed to go hang with the undertaker after, but backed out. Bubs was apparently not going to come home and stay with mom while i was gone, like he said he would. And, to be honest, i did not want to give them ammo: see, you won't be able to go out like this if you care for her alone when he leaves.
God, though, is always there. i was reading Isaiah last night after my scare, and there the assurance was. God is there and in control. i thought of it tonight in the shower as well. Lord, please help me to remember and lean on it. It, and the calm God gave me, allowed me to go to sleep last night, and to calm down in the shower tonight, when all of this was weighing me down, and i was washing off the disgust of mushy refuse. God loves me, and He is there. Thank and Praise Him!!!!!!!!!
So what worked me up this time????? Last night, for starters, the porch banged again. This has been occurring off and on for maybe a year, loud noises in the night that we always attributed to an animal. Last night it was definitely human, as i heard the footsteps flee. It was maybe 1:30 am. i thank God (for all!!!!!!!!!) but in particular in this case for the boyfriend.
In some ways the boyfriend is my best, non-Divine friend. Don't get me wrong, i love my human best friends, and they do much which the boyfriend cannot. The undertaker (a profession, not a cute nickname), the high school best friend (so close because she's always there), the handful of college chums i still speak with on a regular basis, and the handful of close friends i've picked up since then. None of these, however, get up with me in the middle of the night, serving as the backbone for my false bravado "sic -em", walking next to me as i peer into the dark and daunting unknown. None of them stare out the window for several minutes after i go back to bed, growling low. None of them come and lie next to be, between me and the door, for a long time after that.
This morning, i discovered what appeared to be a footprint on our door. Some punk kid, probably, kicking it to frighten me. He or she succeeded. It is strange to walk toward the door, knowing that, without a man in the house, you are responsible not for your protection (that is God's domain) but for investigating the noise, because it is only you and a dependent in the home.
That is not why i am frustrated now though.
Tonight, the cousin who yelled at us comes and asks my brother to go for a walk. He speaks to me civilly enough as well. i interpose myself into their conversation, after, in good faith, attacking the garbag stack he was screaming about.
That's when the two of them gang up on me. Again. Same old story. "you are ruining your life." (it's my life, remember.) "you are endangering your mom." "you can't care for her." "It will become too much." "What will you do with the house. How will you manage." "Think about it, seriously." Now i may be giving my cousin too little credit, but he's sitting there saying all this, and i'm thinking, "you just want us gone. you don't want mom next to you, and you're couching your annoyance in a facade of care and concern." Later on he lectured me on how i needed a stress break, or i would break. That would be nice, except he then went into how that's why they have three shifts in a home.
i go back, and trudge through the garbage, while bubs stays and chats with the cousins. i was supposed to go hang with the undertaker after, but backed out. Bubs was apparently not going to come home and stay with mom while i was gone, like he said he would. And, to be honest, i did not want to give them ammo: see, you won't be able to go out like this if you care for her alone when he leaves.
God, though, is always there. i was reading Isaiah last night after my scare, and there the assurance was. God is there and in control. i thought of it tonight in the shower as well. Lord, please help me to remember and lean on it. It, and the calm God gave me, allowed me to go to sleep last night, and to calm down in the shower tonight, when all of this was weighing me down, and i was washing off the disgust of mushy refuse. God loves me, and He is there. Thank and Praise Him!!!!!!!!!
Friday, June 5, 2009
i had a bad day again.........
i know, in the grand scheme of things, my bad days are not so bad. i thank God for this. Sometimes, though, a girl just wants to vent, and cry. So i pray the Lord, and i ask you all, to forgive me for my whining, when in the end life is good. Thank Him for all!!!!! It's just good to sometimes get it all out.
In the end, i've been a very bad caregiver. i left mom alone tonight. Not for very long, i was only gone for a few hours. From roughly six to nine-thirty. Three and a half hours.
i know, though, and i learned tonight again, that i cannot do that anymore. i've been so good about not going out on Friday nights, when bubs is not home. i hadn't seen a. in so long though, and thought at first that she said this was the only night she was free. i was less than six miles from home. i took her meds with me. i hid the liquid plumber. It had been a bad day. i didn't feel well. My articles took longer to write than normal. My police report was eaten, and i had to drive back to the station to redo it. i didn't really eat until four in the afternoon. i deserved a night off.
i deserved nothing.
i deserve nothing.
thank God He's merciful.
So my friend's mom calls partway through the movie. Mom's in a panic, and walked to their house to ask them to please call me. She just didn't know where i was.
i came home, and heard her walking down the street yelling to a guy. She comes home and tells me that he stopped to talk to me, and she had him in. Then she walked him home. He needed consolation because his mom died. She has no idea who it was.
Now i doubt he was actually in the house. Our loyal guard dog would have likely eaten him had he attempted it, and i would have seen a blood trail on my way in. Still, the thought of what could have happened leaves me wracked with guilt.
Then, i call my neighbor/cousin's name to ask if he saw mom walking with a guy, and who it was. He freaks out on me, and on mom. He calls me a two faced liar. He tells me to stop acting so persecuted. He threatens to turn us in to the health department (again). He tells us to have no interaction with them. He says we always take and never give. He calls mom a senile little witch. He dares her to open her mouth, and see what happens. He says we won't have a house by the time he's done. (As if the government taking it should she ever need care we can't pay for, or our seeming lack of ability to catch up on taxes year to year wouldn't suffice just as well for that purpose.)
Mom, of course, does not deal with that well. At least i think she's forgotten about it now.
The worst part of this all is my self-loathing. What kind of selfish witch goes to see a friend, essentially leaving a child alone. She is not a child, and i will vehemently argue that point, but i keep remembering the repeatedly heard question: Would you leave a four year old alone at home???? Even if she isn't a child, she can easily get in trouble like one. See the fractured ribs.
Bubs' depression seems to be spiraling back to the bad side as well. i was thinking it through tonight, and realized that i do not think he would wilfully commit suicide, but i would not be too surprised if i learned he was in the hospital because he was driving like an idiot and had an accident.
People just don't realize that things are not as simple anymore. Am i good person????? Unequivocably no. i scrape by on God's mercy alone. It's not as easy though as "get rid of the garbage" though. Yesterday i spent a few hours digging through old garbage backs, various forms of animal feces, etc., to clean the porch. Mom puts things in garbage bags, so each one must be sorted by hand. In the past i have dug from "garbage" bags my albania souvenirs, and a paycheck. Yesterday all i found was a bag of bras i didn't want anyway. While i'm doing this she yells at me, from time to time, in populous daylight, that she wanted that garbage to burn next winter. She would reuse that. Why would i throw it out. i treat her so badly. Etc.
Elizabeth Cohen wrote of how she embraced her victimization. i hope i don't do that. i want to be strong. i want to be capable. however, i would kind of like people to realize too that while they may blink an eye and get things done, life is not always that simple.
In the end, i've been a very bad caregiver. i left mom alone tonight. Not for very long, i was only gone for a few hours. From roughly six to nine-thirty. Three and a half hours.
i know, though, and i learned tonight again, that i cannot do that anymore. i've been so good about not going out on Friday nights, when bubs is not home. i hadn't seen a. in so long though, and thought at first that she said this was the only night she was free. i was less than six miles from home. i took her meds with me. i hid the liquid plumber. It had been a bad day. i didn't feel well. My articles took longer to write than normal. My police report was eaten, and i had to drive back to the station to redo it. i didn't really eat until four in the afternoon. i deserved a night off.
i deserved nothing.
i deserve nothing.
thank God He's merciful.
So my friend's mom calls partway through the movie. Mom's in a panic, and walked to their house to ask them to please call me. She just didn't know where i was.
i came home, and heard her walking down the street yelling to a guy. She comes home and tells me that he stopped to talk to me, and she had him in. Then she walked him home. He needed consolation because his mom died. She has no idea who it was.
Now i doubt he was actually in the house. Our loyal guard dog would have likely eaten him had he attempted it, and i would have seen a blood trail on my way in. Still, the thought of what could have happened leaves me wracked with guilt.
Then, i call my neighbor/cousin's name to ask if he saw mom walking with a guy, and who it was. He freaks out on me, and on mom. He calls me a two faced liar. He tells me to stop acting so persecuted. He threatens to turn us in to the health department (again). He tells us to have no interaction with them. He says we always take and never give. He calls mom a senile little witch. He dares her to open her mouth, and see what happens. He says we won't have a house by the time he's done. (As if the government taking it should she ever need care we can't pay for, or our seeming lack of ability to catch up on taxes year to year wouldn't suffice just as well for that purpose.)
Mom, of course, does not deal with that well. At least i think she's forgotten about it now.
The worst part of this all is my self-loathing. What kind of selfish witch goes to see a friend, essentially leaving a child alone. She is not a child, and i will vehemently argue that point, but i keep remembering the repeatedly heard question: Would you leave a four year old alone at home???? Even if she isn't a child, she can easily get in trouble like one. See the fractured ribs.
Bubs' depression seems to be spiraling back to the bad side as well. i was thinking it through tonight, and realized that i do not think he would wilfully commit suicide, but i would not be too surprised if i learned he was in the hospital because he was driving like an idiot and had an accident.
People just don't realize that things are not as simple anymore. Am i good person????? Unequivocably no. i scrape by on God's mercy alone. It's not as easy though as "get rid of the garbage" though. Yesterday i spent a few hours digging through old garbage backs, various forms of animal feces, etc., to clean the porch. Mom puts things in garbage bags, so each one must be sorted by hand. In the past i have dug from "garbage" bags my albania souvenirs, and a paycheck. Yesterday all i found was a bag of bras i didn't want anyway. While i'm doing this she yells at me, from time to time, in populous daylight, that she wanted that garbage to burn next winter. She would reuse that. Why would i throw it out. i treat her so badly. Etc.
Elizabeth Cohen wrote of how she embraced her victimization. i hope i don't do that. i want to be strong. i want to be capable. however, i would kind of like people to realize too that while they may blink an eye and get things done, life is not always that simple.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
traumatic injury
Mom has fractured rib from a "traumatic injury". In layman's terms, since we all know none of us are beating her, she has been falling. The techs who did her bone scan said they appeared to be relatively recent. Good news: No evidence of cancer. Bad news: She's falling enough to be fracturing things. News to think about: This does not help the rumors of borderline elder abuse that have been swirling.
A note on that. It pissed me off. My brother started abruptly pushing harder to put mom in a home. i, at first, attributed it to his recent clinical depression (My diagnosis, via the help of the dsm IV TR: Major depressive Disorder Single Occurrence Without Psychotic Symptoms, coming out of Cyclical Dysthemia, but that's just my thoughts) and sudden desire to run away from here. No, that's not it. i later overhear a mutual friend stating, "how did she take the suggestion that you put your mom in a home?????" Okay. Anger here. So i confronted my brother.
Apparently people had been talking to her a**hole lawyer boyfriend, complaining about my mom wandering around, looking wild eyed, entering stores, etc. So, my guess from here, is that mr. lawyer who has nothing to do with my family (except that we don't like him because he treats her daughter like crap) , was embarassed, and complained to our friend "C". She in turn, talked to bubs. She called it borderline elder abuse. Grrrrr. i do not like the implication that i am abusing the most important human in my life.
The next day i got jumped by my family (more politely, and to my face at least this time). They agree that mom should be in a home.
Now what i've gotten from this is that we need to do something for mom. She shouldn't be alone. i'm loathe to go via the home, though. i think she would hate it. So here are the options i'm playing with:
1.) Move to the next county over where the services are a bit better. This way there's a chance i could get her into the very comprehensive day treatment program, that requires she live in that county. Downsides: Moving, and having the government pay, which means that they can then take her house and all her assetts.
2.) Private pay (less comprehensive) day treatment center in Scranton. Upsides: Don't have to move, we pay so they don't take her assetts. Downsides: Costs $55/day, $275/wk., or over $11,000 per year. Currently, i make a little over $12,000, to put that into perspective, though i hope to soon have a better job. There's still a good chance that, if i'm fortunate, that's roughly a third of my yearly earnings.
3.) In home care. Upsides: don't have to move, don't have to take mom to scranton every day. Downsides: Can be paid for by waiver program, but not highly therapeutic, can hire whoever we want, but again, government can take her assetts since they're paying.
i just had a sudden thought. Soon, we are going to lose our house to Sheriff's sale. Now, i'm going to try to pay this off, or that was the plan, by taking money from my inheritance. It just occurred to me, however, that maybe if we lost the house to sheriff's sale, and then we were the people who bought it (no one else is going to want it) :OD, then maybe it wouldn't be her selling it. See, if she sold it we have to wait five years, or they can still take it. If she loses it, then maybe that's not the same.
Then the lady who works for the area agency on the aging tells me that she may not be able to sell the house anyway, because they might claim she's not lucid, so she couldn't have sold it, and take it anyway.
Why does everyone want our house????? It needs new piping, a new roof, siding, re-wiring, etc.
Okay, i need to go clean the porch, because the freakin' code enforcement officer is on our back.
Also, mom cannot wait ten minutes. She's doing it herself, unable to wait unitl i finish this post, fractured ribs and all.
A note on that. It pissed me off. My brother started abruptly pushing harder to put mom in a home. i, at first, attributed it to his recent clinical depression (My diagnosis, via the help of the dsm IV TR: Major depressive Disorder Single Occurrence Without Psychotic Symptoms, coming out of Cyclical Dysthemia, but that's just my thoughts) and sudden desire to run away from here. No, that's not it. i later overhear a mutual friend stating, "how did she take the suggestion that you put your mom in a home?????" Okay. Anger here. So i confronted my brother.
Apparently people had been talking to her a**hole lawyer boyfriend, complaining about my mom wandering around, looking wild eyed, entering stores, etc. So, my guess from here, is that mr. lawyer who has nothing to do with my family (except that we don't like him because he treats her daughter like crap) , was embarassed, and complained to our friend "C". She in turn, talked to bubs. She called it borderline elder abuse. Grrrrr. i do not like the implication that i am abusing the most important human in my life.
The next day i got jumped by my family (more politely, and to my face at least this time). They agree that mom should be in a home.
Now what i've gotten from this is that we need to do something for mom. She shouldn't be alone. i'm loathe to go via the home, though. i think she would hate it. So here are the options i'm playing with:
1.) Move to the next county over where the services are a bit better. This way there's a chance i could get her into the very comprehensive day treatment program, that requires she live in that county. Downsides: Moving, and having the government pay, which means that they can then take her house and all her assetts.
2.) Private pay (less comprehensive) day treatment center in Scranton. Upsides: Don't have to move, we pay so they don't take her assetts. Downsides: Costs $55/day, $275/wk., or over $11,000 per year. Currently, i make a little over $12,000, to put that into perspective, though i hope to soon have a better job. There's still a good chance that, if i'm fortunate, that's roughly a third of my yearly earnings.
3.) In home care. Upsides: don't have to move, don't have to take mom to scranton every day. Downsides: Can be paid for by waiver program, but not highly therapeutic, can hire whoever we want, but again, government can take her assetts since they're paying.
i just had a sudden thought. Soon, we are going to lose our house to Sheriff's sale. Now, i'm going to try to pay this off, or that was the plan, by taking money from my inheritance. It just occurred to me, however, that maybe if we lost the house to sheriff's sale, and then we were the people who bought it (no one else is going to want it) :OD, then maybe it wouldn't be her selling it. See, if she sold it we have to wait five years, or they can still take it. If she loses it, then maybe that's not the same.
Then the lady who works for the area agency on the aging tells me that she may not be able to sell the house anyway, because they might claim she's not lucid, so she couldn't have sold it, and take it anyway.
Why does everyone want our house????? It needs new piping, a new roof, siding, re-wiring, etc.
Okay, i need to go clean the porch, because the freakin' code enforcement officer is on our back.
Also, mom cannot wait ten minutes. She's doing it herself, unable to wait unitl i finish this post, fractured ribs and all.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Life, the universe, and everything
So sorry that this hasn't been updated in a while, but life continues. Thank God that it does. The house is still falling apart, but i've made strides (albeit small ones) in making it less of a health code violation. My tax return came, and it was used to pay bills. There is much garbage set aside to go out. We bought eighty dollars of real groceries (but it is eaten so quickly, sigh).
i finished graduate school, thank and praise God!!!!!!!!! Finally. This weekend is my hooding and graduation. Getting bubs and mommy to attend is a bit of a stress, but Lord willing it will work through.
There are times when there is so much i want to write, but i get actually in front of the keyboard, and suddenly there is so little.
i could write about bridezilla, (aka my middle sister) who seems to be doing things so non-mom-friendly that i want to scream.
i could write about gunjeshtare, the eldest sister, who thought she was pregnant.
but i don't want too. maybe later.
i finished graduate school, thank and praise God!!!!!!!!! Finally. This weekend is my hooding and graduation. Getting bubs and mommy to attend is a bit of a stress, but Lord willing it will work through.
There are times when there is so much i want to write, but i get actually in front of the keyboard, and suddenly there is so little.
i could write about bridezilla, (aka my middle sister) who seems to be doing things so non-mom-friendly that i want to scream.
i could write about gunjeshtare, the eldest sister, who thought she was pregnant.
but i don't want too. maybe later.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
ophelia was the circus queen, the human cannonball
i am so frustrated right now. Do you know that almost palpable frustration, the one you can feel in your chest, and practically taste, the one which gets into your brain and persists in intruding again and again amidst your more rational thoughts????? That is the frustration i am talking about. i am so frustrated. Those who have never tried raising a stubborn, sentient adult may not understand the reason for my frustration. Its the frustration you feel in knowing that someone is frustrating you, endangering themselves, and generally muddling life up- and it is truly not their fault. You know you shouldn't really be angry at them, you know you cannot win the argument anyway. It is a frustration i should be used to, after years with my mentally ill sister. To her mind, reality is as she sees it. There is no point in telling her life did not happen that way- it will not change the fact that in her mind it honestly did. That is how mom has become. In her mind she honestly deposited my paycheck, necessary for me to pay my delinquent bills, in the bank. She honestly took it to protect it, she honestly told me where she put it, i honestly asked her to do so. In her mind she honestly did not already take tylenol, and my withholding more from her is cruel. It sent her the other day into a drug seeking frenzy, yelling at the top of her lungs.
My life is not my own anymore. Truthfully, i know, it never should have been. It should always have been God's. Still, in my stronger moments i can sit back and say, "i can do this. i am in control." In my weaker moments i wonder how i ever will, and how it is that i am so bad at this game. Why did i leave my purse in the car, with the tylenol in it? Neither one of us knows how much she took. Do i dare let her take her tylenol pm tonight, or am i endangering her health doing so? Do i have the strength to deal with another drug seeking frenzy? Can i lie to her, as i eventually did the other night successfully, and convince her that her fiber pill is an herbal sleeping supplement? Is it even remotely moral to do so?
It takes a long time to get ready now. We are often late. She, like a child, waits until the last few minutes to get ready. Right before i have to leave for work, she has to go to the bathroom. Getting ready must be started at least a half an hour before we have to leave, and reminders must be given frequently.
She does not shower. It's been at least a week. The house is so cold i can't really blame her, i watch her react to a shower, and the idea of getting out of it into the cold, with such frantic displeasure, almost pain, that i feel cruel enforcing it. Between this, the shower's near perpetual broken state, and my working, etc., it just goes by. i almost look forward to dr.'s appointments as an excuse to enforce a shower.
i forget to force her to brush her teeth. i wash her clothes, but then forget to give them to her, and watch her wear the same dirty pants for days straight. i am a bad caretaker. If i can take her places, keep her busy, and monitor her medicine at night, i feel successful. This is not success. This is getting by, and not very well.
My house is a pigsty. She does not believe that the bathroom toilet flushes (in her defense it has not for years, until recently) so she throws the toilet paper in a bucket. i look at it, and think how i must take care of it........ later. i'm not sure why i am cataloging for you my sins, except that i just want to vent my frustration. God has been amazing to me of late, thank and praise Him!!!!!!!!! Still, even with free time, i have not cleaned the house, have not tackled it, have not found a way to pay the garbage service so we have it again, have not burned the used toilet paper, have not disinfected the dishes from the sewage leak this winter, have not sorted the piles of mail and paper. It seems so overwhelming, i tell myself, i am busy, i tell myself, it is difficult with mom so insistant on distracting me, i tell myself. It is hard to scrub the bathtub when it keeps plugging up. It is hard to clean when there is nowhere to put the garbage. Still, i could do it. i could not go out as much as i do. i could stop being selfish, and finally accept that i am a mother, so to speak, and a housewife. Lord please forgive me for my errors, and please continue to help me, have mercy and don't punish me.
It is not all bad. There are moments of happiness, moments of quiet wonder. Mom, on a walk the other day, actually told me that she was glad she had me, because i was the one who stayed with her and did things. There is the moment when she fall asleep peacefully while driving home from tunkhannock. There are times watching an old tv show, where she just hangs out with me. There is sitting here now, in the library, listening to her joke and talk happily with her widower friend. There is life, and beauty, and God's gifts. May He help me to focus on these. Please, just help me in general, Lord. Thank You and praise You.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Do do dee do do dee do do,
Sometimes there is so much in my brain which i want to post here, but by the time i actually come to do so it is not so pressing anymore. i've been posting here more often than to my livejournal, however. Just now, i edited this blog so that i could go ahead and invite some of my lj friends over, deleting part of the one embarrassing post from before.
A friend died the other day. She died in a terrible manner; she froze to death approximately 100 yards from her nursing home, clad in a nightgown and no shoes. The nurse noted her absence at 1:30 in the morning, but said nothing until asked about the woman the next morning around 7:00 am. Might she have been saved had this nurse said something? Perhaps. It is something i need to do , however, to relinquish my anger and pray for her.
It really brought home, however the dangers of nursing homes. Lord willing, i do not want to put mom into one, at least not until absolutely necessary. Traditional societies value their elderly, and care for them. The Bible dictates that we honor our parents.
Once again, i'm entertaining the notion of moving to the nearby county which would allow her to get into the special day care. It's a difficult decision, though, as it requires much prayer regarding whether getting a higher quality of care is worth leaving the area she knows, and in which she is so well loved and accepted. Oh, we could come home to visit, a lot, theoretically. She wouldn't live there though. She might like the adventure.
N., a friend from school who works with the elderly, told me today that he wanted me to remember i am only 29 and need to live. He wanted me to take this into account in any decision i make. i do plan on living, i think i am living now. It's just that this is now a part of my life.
A friend died the other day. She died in a terrible manner; she froze to death approximately 100 yards from her nursing home, clad in a nightgown and no shoes. The nurse noted her absence at 1:30 in the morning, but said nothing until asked about the woman the next morning around 7:00 am. Might she have been saved had this nurse said something? Perhaps. It is something i need to do , however, to relinquish my anger and pray for her.
It really brought home, however the dangers of nursing homes. Lord willing, i do not want to put mom into one, at least not until absolutely necessary. Traditional societies value their elderly, and care for them. The Bible dictates that we honor our parents.
Once again, i'm entertaining the notion of moving to the nearby county which would allow her to get into the special day care. It's a difficult decision, though, as it requires much prayer regarding whether getting a higher quality of care is worth leaving the area she knows, and in which she is so well loved and accepted. Oh, we could come home to visit, a lot, theoretically. She wouldn't live there though. She might like the adventure.
N., a friend from school who works with the elderly, told me today that he wanted me to remember i am only 29 and need to live. He wanted me to take this into account in any decision i make. i do plan on living, i think i am living now. It's just that this is now a part of my life.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
goodnight sweetheart
Nightime is funny. Mom has a delayed sense of sleep, getting more energetic it seems as the evening waxes long. This would be fine, except that my natural rhythm is to wind down and relax after nine generally. Of the two of us, of course, i have to be the one to change. She can't.
i need more patience. i need to not be so cruel. i wonder sometimes if she would be happier in a retirement community. i just don't think so though.
i have found that mom will sometimes watch episodes of the tv show- due south- on dvd with me. she seems to enjoy it, and it is bonding time. It also calms her down, winds her down. Why don't i do constructive things like this more often?????
The plumber is scheduled, Lord willing, to come back in the morning to fix our drainage pipe once and for all. Oh to take a hot shower, and allow mom to use the toilet upstairs without stress. Oh for water to drain down, to not have to empty the tub with a bucket.
but God is good, and He has seen me through. Thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!!!!
i need more patience. i need to not be so cruel. i wonder sometimes if she would be happier in a retirement community. i just don't think so though.
i have found that mom will sometimes watch episodes of the tv show- due south- on dvd with me. she seems to enjoy it, and it is bonding time. It also calms her down, winds her down. Why don't i do constructive things like this more often?????
The plumber is scheduled, Lord willing, to come back in the morning to fix our drainage pipe once and for all. Oh to take a hot shower, and allow mom to use the toilet upstairs without stress. Oh for water to drain down, to not have to empty the tub with a bucket.
but God is good, and He has seen me through. Thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!!!!
She's a lady-
In a strong moment the other day i pictured myself a Proverbs 31 woman. i could, i thought, handle my life. i could provide for my family, feed the animals, go to work, care for mom, and chip wood out of the ground. i felt able to handle life, and prayed that it would go well. Klove radio has been amazingly encouraging to me of late. i prayed that this sudden burst of confidence wouldn't bring bad things with it.
Later that week i did fall. i hit the wall Friday night, a seemingly little thing pushing me over the edge, and stayed depressed through much of yesterday, but awoke this morning with a fresh mood. i prayed today in church about it, confessing my funk to God, and resolving to try and look at the world more often with joy.
May God keep me strong in this journey, and keep me joyful. i think of people who are far worse off than i- we have some electricity in the house. We have some water. We have some heat. There are people in the midwest who have none of this. Why should i whine and complain? This isn't saying that i always keep this mindset, but i am trying.
Later that week i did fall. i hit the wall Friday night, a seemingly little thing pushing me over the edge, and stayed depressed through much of yesterday, but awoke this morning with a fresh mood. i prayed today in church about it, confessing my funk to God, and resolving to try and look at the world more often with joy.
May God keep me strong in this journey, and keep me joyful. i think of people who are far worse off than i- we have some electricity in the house. We have some water. We have some heat. There are people in the midwest who have none of this. Why should i whine and complain? This isn't saying that i always keep this mindset, but i am trying.
Manna-wood. That's what i've been thinking about lately. See our wood is a week late (go figure). i've called the wood guy repeatedly, and despite promises of a Thursday delivery, and a Saturday or Sunday delivery before that, he still hasn't shown. This sees me (picture for a moment if you would the humor of this situation) outside at night multiple evenings this week with an ice chopper, hacking into the snow and pulling back old tarps, to chop frozen wood out of the equally frozen ground. That in and of itself is not amusing. The amusing part is that i repeatedly performed this act in a skirt and high heeled dress boots. This has become my uniform for odd things i never thought i would do. Straddling the kitchen sink i reach into the ceiling to attempt to fix a pipe- in a skirt and dress boots. Standing back a bit, i pour sewage water into the kitchen sink (because the basin is threatening to overflow)- in a skirt and dress boots. Why? It is what i wear to work, and why bother changing, when the clothes need to be waashed anyway. It is daily life. You live in your clothes. Plus, it's just amusing in retrospect.
Anyway, back to manna wood. it's part of my recent resolution to see things positively. It doesn't suck that i'm so cold at night my feet go numb, due to our lack of wood. It is wonderful that God gives us, like He gave the israelites manna, enough wood each day from a seemingly empty pile, to see us through that night. Yesterday, He even gave us enough for two nights, as the manna was given to the Israelites before the sabbath. They received food; i receive wood. God hasn't abandoned me, He's helping me out. He shows me this through manna-wood.
Anyway, back to manna wood. it's part of my recent resolution to see things positively. It doesn't suck that i'm so cold at night my feet go numb, due to our lack of wood. It is wonderful that God gives us, like He gave the israelites manna, enough wood each day from a seemingly empty pile, to see us through that night. Yesterday, He even gave us enough for two nights, as the manna was given to the Israelites before the sabbath. They received food; i receive wood. God hasn't abandoned me, He's helping me out. He shows me this through manna-wood.
and i don't quite understand just what this feeling is?????
i keep thinking that Elizabeth Cohen would though. It's funny, since i listened to her book, The House on Beartown Road, i find myself repeatedly thinking that she would understand me. i actually tried to look up a way to e-mail her. Has my current life made me a stalker too?????
See, when you are a caregiver you begin to adopt, i believe, the same sort of mindset that a parent does. Your world slowly shrinks, and you begin to consider your tasks at home as the center of your mundane existence. Home, work, amuse mommy, chop out wood, fix pipe, rinse, repeat, rinse repeat. i used to long for a nightlife each night of the week. i've winnowed it down to saturday nights, and am getting used to staying at home then. It isn't that i've entirely accepted my role as a housewife, i'm still pretty bad at it. i'm trying however. i'm trying.
See, when you are a caregiver you begin to adopt, i believe, the same sort of mindset that a parent does. Your world slowly shrinks, and you begin to consider your tasks at home as the center of your mundane existence. Home, work, amuse mommy, chop out wood, fix pipe, rinse, repeat, rinse repeat. i used to long for a nightlife each night of the week. i've winnowed it down to saturday nights, and am getting used to staying at home then. It isn't that i've entirely accepted my role as a housewife, i'm still pretty bad at it. i'm trying however. i'm trying.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
How bizarre
Today (well, i'm finishing this a week later, but began it the day it occurred) was, in some ways, one of those days that began last night, and at the end of which you prepare to fall into bed praying to hit the reset button for the next day. Still, it was fraught with examples of God's benevolence and mercy, and provision. So today was not a perfect day. It could have, however, been much worse.
It began when i, feeling the guilt that resulted from watching my male cat, the evil Dr. No (real name Manoah) first lick a piece of ceiling wood and then walk through sewage water. The floor was strewn with tile pieces from the ceiling, the sink was littered with the same interspersed with raw sewage- in short, the room was disgusting. i decided not to clean it last night (the job of course falling to me, bubs being weirded out by the sewage and not exactly being the cleaning sort anyway, and mom having been told before that i would do cleaning, and thinking that she had already done it), thinking that instead i would go today to graduate school, come home and clean the kitchen, and then go to a friend's house for a hot shower. (Oh do i lust over a hot shower right now.) i did not, in short, have the motivation to tackle the kitchen last night. Guilt, however, would not allow me to leave my cats in the mess. A purposeful jail break was engineered, then, with full approbation of the warden.
i look at the cats being out at night with trepidation. This is, most likely, largely due to their recurring night time proclivities when liberated from their cage- catching things. Now, this is a laudable thing for a cat. However, i am irrationally afraid of dead animals, and loathe watching the death in action of a creature at the hands of another creature. The last time these two had been out at night, i had awoken to D-rock playing with a dead mouse on top of me while i slept. By the grace of God, i had handled it quite well, i must say. Only, however, by the grace of God (well everything is only by the grace of God).
So last night, i anxiously fear what might go squeak in the night. D curls up with me, and i think that perhaps it will be alright. Mom comes downstairs, her feet torturing her, and starts med-seeking. i text ms. texas (my middle sister) to call mom, and she and her boyfriend manage to shake her out of her pain induced funk. i fall asleep.........
.........and awaken some hours later to No coming down, D jumping to see him, and the distinct sounds of mouse claiming commencing. No had caught one, close to two am. i put the cats in the entryway, just so i could get some sleep (after calling my brother to deal with the situation, which i again, only by the grace of God, handled quite well).
At shortly before seven this morning, i heard alarming noises from the foyer. Afraid for their safety, i got out of bed to check on the cats. i found my brother's golf clubs knocked down (there's something he shan't learn), let them out (how much trouble could they get into in the half an hour before i had to get up), and went back to bed. Approximately ten minutes later- sure enough noah's caught another one. i manage to handle it quite well (thank God!!!!!!!!!!) and trap it myself under a shovel, and holler for bubs. He comes downstairs, but the mouse is gone. He goes back upstairs to bed, and No catches another (or the same) mouse almost immediately. This time bubs gets it outside, by my sleep is ruined.
S., my friend with whom i ride to school, is sick. So i, not wanting to bring the sickness home to mom (or catch it myself) decide to drive myself. i might have thought better. In the next few hours:
-i fall down the stairs.
-i realize that when i fell down the stairs i ripped a hole in my pants and underwear, and have been walking around like that (including outside).
-i realize the road is not pleasant at the beginning for driving to school.
-i drop my coffee before i get to drink any of it.
i arrive at school flustered, grateful to God for having arrived well, and had a good drive there, but in a sort of "what a week it's been" mood.
The next several hours are wonderful. i adore my new professor. He's young, dynamic, very into social justice, not very into standard educational practices, and- oh the icing- a hasher. (There's a hashing group nearby too!!) He ran a classroom activity which was brilliant. He told us we had to decide between two grading options:
1. He grades very stringently. This means only one or two people will receive an a, several will receive a b, and a few (those who do not do as well as the others) are guaranteed to receive a c.
2. He grades very laxly. There is much less stress, and most people will receive a b. However, this means that it is much less likely (though possible) that anyone receives a c or an a.
After we discussed this (i argued that it was unfair, and that we ought to be given what we earned) he revealed that it was an exercise. See, that is how people look at society. Some are okay with a system whereby a few exceptional people reap all the rewards, many are in the middle, and some live in below average means. The argument is that the people on the top deserve to be on the top, and those at the bottom could always work their way up. Others feel that a system where everyone is brought up to a basic level of existence is better, where very few people realize either extreme prosperity, or extreme want. It's an interesting lesson, and was a very effective illustration.
On my way home from school, however, i had a flat tire. i couldn't get the old tire off and called bubs to come, who was also unable to remove the old tire at first. One man helped by giving us a bottle of free-all solution and adding his strength to bubs'. When two large men cannot pull off a tire with lubricant on it, there is a problem. Eventually, when that good samaritan left and another took his place, the tire came free. This didn't happen, however, until after a sledgehammer was used.
Here's the benefit to this, and that which i'm very grateful to God for!!!!!!!!!
1.)It happened just before i lost cell reception, so i could call bubs.
2.)It happened during daylight (at first).
3.)It happened near a gas station (so i wasn't stuck changing a tire on the side of the road).
4.)It happened on a rural road (so i wasn't stuck sitting on the edge of a highway).
5.)The tire did come off, and people did help.
After arriving home, i cleaned the kitchen.
The subsequent week has been much better, thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!
It began when i, feeling the guilt that resulted from watching my male cat, the evil Dr. No (real name Manoah) first lick a piece of ceiling wood and then walk through sewage water. The floor was strewn with tile pieces from the ceiling, the sink was littered with the same interspersed with raw sewage- in short, the room was disgusting. i decided not to clean it last night (the job of course falling to me, bubs being weirded out by the sewage and not exactly being the cleaning sort anyway, and mom having been told before that i would do cleaning, and thinking that she had already done it), thinking that instead i would go today to graduate school, come home and clean the kitchen, and then go to a friend's house for a hot shower. (Oh do i lust over a hot shower right now.) i did not, in short, have the motivation to tackle the kitchen last night. Guilt, however, would not allow me to leave my cats in the mess. A purposeful jail break was engineered, then, with full approbation of the warden.
i look at the cats being out at night with trepidation. This is, most likely, largely due to their recurring night time proclivities when liberated from their cage- catching things. Now, this is a laudable thing for a cat. However, i am irrationally afraid of dead animals, and loathe watching the death in action of a creature at the hands of another creature. The last time these two had been out at night, i had awoken to D-rock playing with a dead mouse on top of me while i slept. By the grace of God, i had handled it quite well, i must say. Only, however, by the grace of God (well everything is only by the grace of God).
So last night, i anxiously fear what might go squeak in the night. D curls up with me, and i think that perhaps it will be alright. Mom comes downstairs, her feet torturing her, and starts med-seeking. i text ms. texas (my middle sister) to call mom, and she and her boyfriend manage to shake her out of her pain induced funk. i fall asleep.........
.........and awaken some hours later to No coming down, D jumping to see him, and the distinct sounds of mouse claiming commencing. No had caught one, close to two am. i put the cats in the entryway, just so i could get some sleep (after calling my brother to deal with the situation, which i again, only by the grace of God, handled quite well).
At shortly before seven this morning, i heard alarming noises from the foyer. Afraid for their safety, i got out of bed to check on the cats. i found my brother's golf clubs knocked down (there's something he shan't learn), let them out (how much trouble could they get into in the half an hour before i had to get up), and went back to bed. Approximately ten minutes later- sure enough noah's caught another one. i manage to handle it quite well (thank God!!!!!!!!!!) and trap it myself under a shovel, and holler for bubs. He comes downstairs, but the mouse is gone. He goes back upstairs to bed, and No catches another (or the same) mouse almost immediately. This time bubs gets it outside, by my sleep is ruined.
S., my friend with whom i ride to school, is sick. So i, not wanting to bring the sickness home to mom (or catch it myself) decide to drive myself. i might have thought better. In the next few hours:
-i fall down the stairs.
-i realize that when i fell down the stairs i ripped a hole in my pants and underwear, and have been walking around like that (including outside).
-i realize the road is not pleasant at the beginning for driving to school.
-i drop my coffee before i get to drink any of it.
i arrive at school flustered, grateful to God for having arrived well, and had a good drive there, but in a sort of "what a week it's been" mood.
The next several hours are wonderful. i adore my new professor. He's young, dynamic, very into social justice, not very into standard educational practices, and- oh the icing- a hasher. (There's a hashing group nearby too!!) He ran a classroom activity which was brilliant. He told us we had to decide between two grading options:
1. He grades very stringently. This means only one or two people will receive an a, several will receive a b, and a few (those who do not do as well as the others) are guaranteed to receive a c.
2. He grades very laxly. There is much less stress, and most people will receive a b. However, this means that it is much less likely (though possible) that anyone receives a c or an a.
After we discussed this (i argued that it was unfair, and that we ought to be given what we earned) he revealed that it was an exercise. See, that is how people look at society. Some are okay with a system whereby a few exceptional people reap all the rewards, many are in the middle, and some live in below average means. The argument is that the people on the top deserve to be on the top, and those at the bottom could always work their way up. Others feel that a system where everyone is brought up to a basic level of existence is better, where very few people realize either extreme prosperity, or extreme want. It's an interesting lesson, and was a very effective illustration.
On my way home from school, however, i had a flat tire. i couldn't get the old tire off and called bubs to come, who was also unable to remove the old tire at first. One man helped by giving us a bottle of free-all solution and adding his strength to bubs'. When two large men cannot pull off a tire with lubricant on it, there is a problem. Eventually, when that good samaritan left and another took his place, the tire came free. This didn't happen, however, until after a sledgehammer was used.
Here's the benefit to this, and that which i'm very grateful to God for!!!!!!!!!
1.)It happened just before i lost cell reception, so i could call bubs.
2.)It happened during daylight (at first).
3.)It happened near a gas station (so i wasn't stuck changing a tire on the side of the road).
4.)It happened on a rural road (so i wasn't stuck sitting on the edge of a highway).
5.)The tire did come off, and people did help.
After arriving home, i cleaned the kitchen.
The subsequent week has been much better, thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Sitting in the rain, water on the brain, got a hole in your boat.....
Our plumber installed a sprinkler system in our kitchen. Now, this isn't literally true, but it is the crack i made yesterday when, after two days of thawing and patching our basement pipes the reinstalation of water into the pipes resulted in multile jets of water raining down from the kitchen ceiling. Prior to this time, the only leak from this ceiling had been the dripping sewage from the leaking drainage pipe. That had been dripping onto our dishrack and sink for a few days, and i had already attempted twice to fix it. The first time we did not yet realize that it was sewage, the second time there was little to no doubt. Of course by that time we had a sink full of brown snow and the icy sheen of frozen water and waste conmingled. Too late, i tried to extract our spaghetti strainer from its clutches. Alas, it was no good.
We have not had water properly for several days now. Ironically, the waste water emerging from the ceiling was the only water running in the building. On Tuesday night, the night before mom's long awaited Dr.'s appointment, bubs and traveled into the frozen basement to attempt to thaw the pipes with a hair dryer. He swore, and started freaking out. "i just want to burn this place down." "No you can't bubs, we don't have any insurance." These are the sort of conversations we sometimes have. What spawned this surge in profanity????? The pipes were not only frozen, but completely disconnected in two spots, which was threatening to pull the entire assembly down. Oh, and to add insult to injury- the water meter was smashed.
Then came me calling the plumber, who graciously took pity and came the next day. Day one of two where i skipped my internship. He installed a baseboard heater to our wall, to try and keep the temperature down there at least above freezing, and set to work.......
....... and came back the next day with help to continue. They fixed all the pipes downstairs, turned the water on, and caused a small geyser to erupt from the back of our washing machine. They fixed this and went to test it out.......
.......which saw me standing as water rained from my ceiling, clutching the electric heater i tried to save from the initial waves. "Where's the safest place for me to hold this heater," i queried of our plumber's assistant, as we stood in the water (dripping even through the blades of our ceiling fan) and stared in a shocked sort of wonder. "Unplug it," he logically suggested. Not my most intelligent moment.
The plumber then agreed to come back the next day to try and fix these problems and restore water to the upstairs. He capped the upstairs for the night, so we would at least have water downstairs. He asked me if i really cared about our ceiling. i said, "no." What i cared about was water. Laundry. Showers. Doing my hair in any style but the "i have washed it in over a week and wasn't assidous enough in the beginning about combing it, so it's a tangled gnarled mess, but if i do this tightly and coiled enough maybe you won't notice" bun. The bucket of human excrement remained on the kitchen sink, as it was still being dripped into.
Today i went to work, and my brother handled the plumber. It's still not done, though not through fault of his really. We only lost, maybe two square feet of ceiling. He restored hot water to the upstairs. However, he believes we have a frozen mass in the waste pipe still. We can't, he says, do much until it thaws. When it does, i (bubs claims he cannot stand on the sink, so the duty falls to me) get to climb back atop the sink, scrape off the old putty, waste, tape, and previous patching materials, and try to epoxy or bondo the waste pipe, if we can find the hole. Then i get to use glue to attach a new pvc pipe peace to the cold water pipe, located behind the frozen waste pipe, so we have both kinds of water in the upstairs. The plumber says if we get stuck we can call him.
Today bubs already gooped up a large crack in the downstairs bathroom sink drain. It appears we broke a lot in our house this frozen season. Le sigh. i ought, tonight, to go clean the kitchen- the plaster, ceiling bits, excrement, etc. Leaving fecal matter in your kitchen for too long is probably not a good idea. It, however, does not appeal to me, especially when i can't shower after doing it right now. Maybe i'll beg a friend to use their shower tomorrow, and do the cleaning right before that.
This leads to the great homeowner's loan debate, which perhaps i'll explain tomorrow. Though my computer lost internet ability after it's recent virus debacle (thank and praise the Lord!!!!!!!!!!!! that it recovered completely apparently otherwise) so i get on the internet less often.
Until then, i remain
stinkily, oily, and itchily yours-
-une.
We have not had water properly for several days now. Ironically, the waste water emerging from the ceiling was the only water running in the building. On Tuesday night, the night before mom's long awaited Dr.'s appointment, bubs and traveled into the frozen basement to attempt to thaw the pipes with a hair dryer. He swore, and started freaking out. "i just want to burn this place down." "No you can't bubs, we don't have any insurance." These are the sort of conversations we sometimes have. What spawned this surge in profanity????? The pipes were not only frozen, but completely disconnected in two spots, which was threatening to pull the entire assembly down. Oh, and to add insult to injury- the water meter was smashed.
Then came me calling the plumber, who graciously took pity and came the next day. Day one of two where i skipped my internship. He installed a baseboard heater to our wall, to try and keep the temperature down there at least above freezing, and set to work.......
....... and came back the next day with help to continue. They fixed all the pipes downstairs, turned the water on, and caused a small geyser to erupt from the back of our washing machine. They fixed this and went to test it out.......
.......which saw me standing as water rained from my ceiling, clutching the electric heater i tried to save from the initial waves. "Where's the safest place for me to hold this heater," i queried of our plumber's assistant, as we stood in the water (dripping even through the blades of our ceiling fan) and stared in a shocked sort of wonder. "Unplug it," he logically suggested. Not my most intelligent moment.
The plumber then agreed to come back the next day to try and fix these problems and restore water to the upstairs. He capped the upstairs for the night, so we would at least have water downstairs. He asked me if i really cared about our ceiling. i said, "no." What i cared about was water. Laundry. Showers. Doing my hair in any style but the "i have washed it in over a week and wasn't assidous enough in the beginning about combing it, so it's a tangled gnarled mess, but if i do this tightly and coiled enough maybe you won't notice" bun. The bucket of human excrement remained on the kitchen sink, as it was still being dripped into.
Today i went to work, and my brother handled the plumber. It's still not done, though not through fault of his really. We only lost, maybe two square feet of ceiling. He restored hot water to the upstairs. However, he believes we have a frozen mass in the waste pipe still. We can't, he says, do much until it thaws. When it does, i (bubs claims he cannot stand on the sink, so the duty falls to me) get to climb back atop the sink, scrape off the old putty, waste, tape, and previous patching materials, and try to epoxy or bondo the waste pipe, if we can find the hole. Then i get to use glue to attach a new pvc pipe peace to the cold water pipe, located behind the frozen waste pipe, so we have both kinds of water in the upstairs. The plumber says if we get stuck we can call him.
Today bubs already gooped up a large crack in the downstairs bathroom sink drain. It appears we broke a lot in our house this frozen season. Le sigh. i ought, tonight, to go clean the kitchen- the plaster, ceiling bits, excrement, etc. Leaving fecal matter in your kitchen for too long is probably not a good idea. It, however, does not appeal to me, especially when i can't shower after doing it right now. Maybe i'll beg a friend to use their shower tomorrow, and do the cleaning right before that.
This leads to the great homeowner's loan debate, which perhaps i'll explain tomorrow. Though my computer lost internet ability after it's recent virus debacle (thank and praise the Lord!!!!!!!!!!!! that it recovered completely apparently otherwise) so i get on the internet less often.
Until then, i remain
stinkily, oily, and itchily yours-
-une.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Oh the pirate radio told us what was goin' down.
Life. Well, life gets busy. Currently we are going through another waterless spell. This is winter in rural Pennsylvania- snow, ice, cold, and frozen pipes. Ours tend to last. Sigh. However, the water was dripping out of the ceiling earlier.
A few weeks ago, it might have been humorous for a random person to see, speaking of ceilings. Standing atop the sink (so as to reach the hole), in my high heeled boots (my sneakers broke), in my winter jacket (the stove heat doesn't necessarily reach the kitchen), pulling the yellow plastic off the hole in the ceiling. "Bubs, how did you fix this last time." "With duct tape and an aluminum can." Thank night we fixed it with duct tape and window plastic.
i took that same plastic and covered the cellar windows not that long ago. My middle sister told me that she and daddy thought that made a place look white trash. The way the house looks right now, i figure we already look white trash. So why not insulate the trash.
Currently
A few weeks ago, it might have been humorous for a random person to see, speaking of ceilings. Standing atop the sink (so as to reach the hole), in my high heeled boots (my sneakers broke), in my winter jacket (the stove heat doesn't necessarily reach the kitchen), pulling the yellow plastic off the hole in the ceiling. "Bubs, how did you fix this last time." "With duct tape and an aluminum can." Thank night we fixed it with duct tape and window plastic.
i took that same plastic and covered the cellar windows not that long ago. My middle sister told me that she and daddy thought that made a place look white trash. The way the house looks right now, i figure we already look white trash. So why not insulate the trash.
Currently
Thursday, January 1, 2009
On Guilt and Lies
Guilt and lies have become old familiar friends. Well guilt has always been a familiar friend, but perhaps never before has it been so justified. Lies are a new addition; i've decided that lying is less of a sin when one is lying to a woman for her own good, a woman for whom the acceptance of the truth and coping mechanisms are compromised. Sometimes, i even lie about my guilt.
Take today for instance. i'm on a vacation with friends for New Years. i called home to ask my brother if i could stay another day. He told me i could, in such a way that he knew would make me feel guilty if i did. So i will probably go home. Sigh.
Take today for instance. i'm on a vacation with friends for New Years. i called home to ask my brother if i could stay another day. He told me i could, in such a way that he knew would make me feel guilty if i did. So i will probably go home. Sigh.
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