My sister has yet to text or email me regarding anything at all, ranging from my medical melee of this summer or to wish me anniversary greetings, or to respond to any of my emails or texts. I'm going to go Jack Bauer on her ass.
Here it is September, nearing mid-month, in fact. Perhaps sometime next month I'll make the trip to see my mother, provided she's on her best behavior. I won't be around for Thanksgiving, and it's a crap-shoot if I'll be there for Christmas. Afterall, I don't have a kid, so the holiday essentially doesn't exist for me.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
And Yet
Here it is, YET another Friday since dad passed. EVERY Friday morning I think of him especially, as he passed away roughly 7:45 a.m. Fridays are my hardest day of my week. And yet, this a.m., as I'm driving in to work, on the radio was that Michael Jackson song, "You are not Alone." For the first time in years, I listened intently to the words. I was a block away from my office and on the brink of a full on crying jag. Nothing fills this void.
Long Goodbyes
I've read somewhere, about how Alzheimers is like "the long good bye." To me it's like invasion of the body snatchers, where the essence of your loved one is whisked away and all that is left is the husk of who they were. In a way I feel similarly about dealing with a parent with borderline personality disorder, yet, the essence of who they are is never whisked away. It's enough to make you doubt or wonder if there is or was anything good there in the first place. Perhaps there was something good, a nugget of their self, but over time cruelty and narcissism just erodes what good there was, and all that's left is the husk of the relationship.
I vacillate between anger and wistful sentimentality, but wishing and hoping that things will change, or even ME CHANGING MYSELF OR MY REACTIONS isn't enough to make things as I wish them to be. The anger overrides everything. I don't want to accept THIS. THIS is not love. I am not perfect. I did not demand that I be born. I feel as if I were born to a reptile, born in captivity, with no life survival skills taught. Struggling to survive. Even still. Survival is more important to me than love.
Granted, the longing is there, for a normal loving relationship, one I realize I never will have, but not for a lack of trying. But after years of trying, I've reached that point of the Diminishing Law of Return, where no matter how much time or money or energy or love or empathy I could possibly throw at the situation is going to change any aspect of it. Because she will take my time or my money or my energy or my love or my empathy and offer up nothing but regret in return.
I love myself enough to limit my vulnerabilities, in doing so, limiting her access to me, my love, my joys, my life. But at the core of it all, I do not trust her. I do not love her in those sentimental "Mother's Day" card kind of ways people love their mother, but at a minimum, I love her enough not to be outright cruel to her. My good intentions and I cannot fix what is broke with her. Hell, I don't know if I can fix what is broke with ME.
All I can do right now is just keep surviving. Just keep staying upright and above ground and moving forward of my own steam, and cherish those transient moments of happiness I can, because this life, MY LIFE, is short. I wonder and doubt if she's ever had these deep thoughts about US, about what's wrong with US, trying to fix us. All I know is she wants more, and more I cannot give. Therein is the conundrum.
I vacillate between anger and wistful sentimentality, but wishing and hoping that things will change, or even ME CHANGING MYSELF OR MY REACTIONS isn't enough to make things as I wish them to be. The anger overrides everything. I don't want to accept THIS. THIS is not love. I am not perfect. I did not demand that I be born. I feel as if I were born to a reptile, born in captivity, with no life survival skills taught. Struggling to survive. Even still. Survival is more important to me than love.
Granted, the longing is there, for a normal loving relationship, one I realize I never will have, but not for a lack of trying. But after years of trying, I've reached that point of the Diminishing Law of Return, where no matter how much time or money or energy or love or empathy I could possibly throw at the situation is going to change any aspect of it. Because she will take my time or my money or my energy or my love or my empathy and offer up nothing but regret in return.
I love myself enough to limit my vulnerabilities, in doing so, limiting her access to me, my love, my joys, my life. But at the core of it all, I do not trust her. I do not love her in those sentimental "Mother's Day" card kind of ways people love their mother, but at a minimum, I love her enough not to be outright cruel to her. My good intentions and I cannot fix what is broke with her. Hell, I don't know if I can fix what is broke with ME.
All I can do right now is just keep surviving. Just keep staying upright and above ground and moving forward of my own steam, and cherish those transient moments of happiness I can, because this life, MY LIFE, is short. I wonder and doubt if she's ever had these deep thoughts about US, about what's wrong with US, trying to fix us. All I know is she wants more, and more I cannot give. Therein is the conundrum.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
PS: For the post beneath this one
So Monday evening, when no calls were forthcoming, I sent out texts to my sister (who I also sent out an email on Friday pretty much stating the same sentiment), to my brother, my aunt, and my Indian brother from another mother, "Good luck for the new school year." I got a reply from my aunt acknowledging it and stating the school year starts on Weds for her. Brother texted back thanks and that the school year starts Friday for his daughter. Indian brother from another mother texted thanks and school starts Friday for his kids (and acknowledged our anniversary). Yet my sister? Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.
So no acknowledgment from aunt, sister, brother, or mother for my anniversary. If these people were not related to me, I'd naturally shift things into neutral and start phasing them out. They're nothing but takers, chipping away at me, obviously don't value me or act as if they want to be in my life (or me in theirs). So why bother?
And my aunt, who, I suppose on the surface I do get along, has managed to let yet another summer slip by without a visit, a pop in or otherwise. This is the summer she turned 60. I thought for sure there was a big "to do," given it was a milestone birthday ending in "0." Perhaps there WAS a get together and I was excluded. Just like invitations to her Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day barbeques haven't been forthcoming for 12 years.
What bothers me I suppose is MY awareness that as you get older, your universe CAN AND DOES get smaller, and it takes a LOT OF WORK for you to maintain homeostasis, and maintain/attract people into your orbit. I see my family fracturing into bits, or burning out like a supernova, getting super bright right before the big black void. The death of my father (whose anniversary is the end of NEXT month) only serves to remind me of the death of my family. Things exploded and burnt the fuck right out after he died. No one has enough give a fuck to even put forth the illusion of family anymore.
End Note: While I finally DID get an email acknowledgment wishing me a happy anniversary from my mother, it was only after I zapped an email three days after the anniversary with the URL to the place where the husband took us out for an anniversary lunch. Still no acknowledgments from anyone else, and my sister has yet to reply to anything. I did manage to text her a link regarding food/herb interactions w/Rx medications, everything has been met with silence. Perhaps I should follow her lead.
So no acknowledgment from aunt, sister, brother, or mother for my anniversary. If these people were not related to me, I'd naturally shift things into neutral and start phasing them out. They're nothing but takers, chipping away at me, obviously don't value me or act as if they want to be in my life (or me in theirs). So why bother?
And my aunt, who, I suppose on the surface I do get along, has managed to let yet another summer slip by without a visit, a pop in or otherwise. This is the summer she turned 60. I thought for sure there was a big "to do," given it was a milestone birthday ending in "0." Perhaps there WAS a get together and I was excluded. Just like invitations to her Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day barbeques haven't been forthcoming for 12 years.
What bothers me I suppose is MY awareness that as you get older, your universe CAN AND DOES get smaller, and it takes a LOT OF WORK for you to maintain homeostasis, and maintain/attract people into your orbit. I see my family fracturing into bits, or burning out like a supernova, getting super bright right before the big black void. The death of my father (whose anniversary is the end of NEXT month) only serves to remind me of the death of my family. Things exploded and burnt the fuck right out after he died. No one has enough give a fuck to even put forth the illusion of family anymore.
End Note: While I finally DID get an email acknowledgment wishing me a happy anniversary from my mother, it was only after I zapped an email three days after the anniversary with the URL to the place where the husband took us out for an anniversary lunch. Still no acknowledgments from anyone else, and my sister has yet to reply to anything. I did manage to text her a link regarding food/herb interactions w/Rx medications, everything has been met with silence. Perhaps I should follow her lead.
Insert Witty Title Here
ETA: Formatting fixed at home.
(Forgive the lack of formatting, Blogger doesn't play nice with the IE here at work.)
Monday was my 12th anniversary with the husband. It went with ZERO acknowledgment from anyone in my family. ANYONE. Whereas, my Indian contingent of in-laws? STELLAR. Mother & father-in-law, BIL, and an aunty and uncle, too. I use little mnemonic devices to remember everyone else's bdays or anniversaries in my family. I've become very petty (IMHO) and decided that unless/until everyone starts acknowledging OUR birthdays or anniversary, I'm not going to be forthcoming with milestone niceties anymore.
Our anniversary is on Labor Day. You'd think it'd ensure that it's inextricably enmeshed with the holiday. How can you not remember a wedding of a close family member, especially if it lands on a holiday? My mnemonics I use (if that's even the appropriate word for my technique on remembering dates):
Brother born on 3/10 (he's the namesake of great-grandfather #1, of the same first name who was born on 3/9; and mom's grandfather was born on 3/8)
Sister's wedding anniversary: 4/20, who doesn't remember SHIT about 4/20?
Brother-in-law (sister's husband) born on 5/23, the date of my enlistment in the military nearly 3 decades ago.
Aunt's bday: 8/15, 4 days shy of my bday.
Aunt's anniversary: 8/20, the day after my bday
Aunt's husband's bday: 2/14, Valentine's Day
Cousin, their daughter, born 9/16 (which is also the date of MY dad's bday, and my dad's grandmother's bday)
Great aunt's death anniversary: 3/1,which also is my mother's bday.
How do I remember my husband's bday? 7/21, the day after my deceased former/first mother-in-law. How do I remember all the bdays of my current mother-in-law, father-in-law and brother-in-law? They are all born in July in successive dates.
See? Doesn't take a brainiac to figure this shit out. Also? There are these fancy assed new fangled gadgets called cell phones, which have calendar functions, which could set up REMINDERS. But I suppose that would warrant enough GIVE A FUCK for them to think, "GEE perhaps I should remember when my eldest daughter, my older sister, my first born niece, etc etc has a bday or anniversary." (Now I know without the formatting, this looks like a full on rage-tirade. Please bear with me.)
I just wish someone in my family would just do a "rage bukkake," unload all their rage, resentment etc onto me, so I can just fade away into the background, fade to black as it were, so that I'm no longer tethered by DNA and familial obligation to remain as distantly connected to these folks, when obviously they don't care about me, yet put the full responsibility or blame on me for the current state of things.
I really detest them and what our family has become. But more than that, I detest myself for allowing myself to actually GIVE A SHIT, to care, to know HEY THIS IS FUCKED UP.
End Note: I read and re-read my posts, and I cannot help but feel as if my father is writing these posts through me, as these are the same type of fucked up family dynamics he'd rail about to me in emails (and I know, silently to himself, or perhaps to others, he'd bitch about how he rarely saw me towards the last few years of his life--but I know on one level he knew I was insulating myself from mom. I know in the end I robbed myself of spare moments with my father, but the cost to my sanity truly was a price I wasn't willing to pay.)
(Forgive the lack of formatting, Blogger doesn't play nice with the IE here at work.)
Monday was my 12th anniversary with the husband. It went with ZERO acknowledgment from anyone in my family. ANYONE. Whereas, my Indian contingent of in-laws? STELLAR. Mother & father-in-law, BIL, and an aunty and uncle, too. I use little mnemonic devices to remember everyone else's bdays or anniversaries in my family. I've become very petty (IMHO) and decided that unless/until everyone starts acknowledging OUR birthdays or anniversary, I'm not going to be forthcoming with milestone niceties anymore.
Our anniversary is on Labor Day. You'd think it'd ensure that it's inextricably enmeshed with the holiday. How can you not remember a wedding of a close family member, especially if it lands on a holiday? My mnemonics I use (if that's even the appropriate word for my technique on remembering dates):
Brother born on 3/10 (he's the namesake of great-grandfather #1, of the same first name who was born on 3/9; and mom's grandfather was born on 3/8)
Sister's wedding anniversary: 4/20, who doesn't remember SHIT about 4/20?
Brother-in-law (sister's husband) born on 5/23, the date of my enlistment in the military nearly 3 decades ago.
Aunt's bday: 8/15, 4 days shy of my bday.
Aunt's anniversary: 8/20, the day after my bday
Aunt's husband's bday: 2/14, Valentine's Day
Cousin, their daughter, born 9/16 (which is also the date of MY dad's bday, and my dad's grandmother's bday)
Great aunt's death anniversary: 3/1,which also is my mother's bday.
How do I remember my husband's bday? 7/21, the day after my deceased former/first mother-in-law. How do I remember all the bdays of my current mother-in-law, father-in-law and brother-in-law? They are all born in July in successive dates.
See? Doesn't take a brainiac to figure this shit out. Also? There are these fancy assed new fangled gadgets called cell phones, which have calendar functions, which could set up REMINDERS. But I suppose that would warrant enough GIVE A FUCK for them to think, "GEE perhaps I should remember when my eldest daughter, my older sister, my first born niece, etc etc has a bday or anniversary." (Now I know without the formatting, this looks like a full on rage-tirade. Please bear with me.)
I just wish someone in my family would just do a "rage bukkake," unload all their rage, resentment etc onto me, so I can just fade away into the background, fade to black as it were, so that I'm no longer tethered by DNA and familial obligation to remain as distantly connected to these folks, when obviously they don't care about me, yet put the full responsibility or blame on me for the current state of things.
I really detest them and what our family has become. But more than that, I detest myself for allowing myself to actually GIVE A SHIT, to care, to know HEY THIS IS FUCKED UP.
End Note: I read and re-read my posts, and I cannot help but feel as if my father is writing these posts through me, as these are the same type of fucked up family dynamics he'd rail about to me in emails (and I know, silently to himself, or perhaps to others, he'd bitch about how he rarely saw me towards the last few years of his life--but I know on one level he knew I was insulating myself from mom. I know in the end I robbed myself of spare moments with my father, but the cost to my sanity truly was a price I wasn't willing to pay.)
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