Time to Grow Up, Let Go!

During a recent visit to an elderly friend, I saw photos all over the room of his granddaughter. In any normal situation that would be expected, however, since the child's birth others have bought gifts for the girl since her mother wanted NOTHING to do with her father.

As his health has declined over the last few years, everyone has pitched in to assist with his care. He's lived with us for a time, then came to visit weekly. Now that he is reaching the final stages of his condition, his daughter has visited him once, after thinking it was all made up, exaggerated to get her attention. She showed up with pictures of her daughter, whom he doesn't recognize or remember. He cannot remember his daughter's name at this point because the distance has been so long between them.

I was appalled when I walked in to find pictures she supplied, yet the photo he's had for years of his mother, is set sideways on a table behind a box of tissue, while her daughter is on display for all to see.

How can people live with themselves when they have absolutely no substance at all. Everything in life to them is a SHOW. That's what I see when I think of her. I'm angry with her because my family has put their lives on hold to care for HER father, without even a thought to involve herself. The only involvement I've seen is when there is an audience, when others might think badly of her behavior. More so than angry, I feel sorry for her. She thinks the world revolves around her existence. She believes the world falls for her public persona, that the world is HER stage.

I can say from experience, that losing a parent with unresolved issues is a painful path to take. Lack of closure wounds deep, and for some doesn't heal. I know that we'll be hearing from her after her father is gone, wondering what happened. Until now, everyone has given her the pity she is looking for, listened to her excuses for not being there in a time of need, all the while talking about her, wondering what happened to her. I don't envy her or anyone in that situation, but I have no compassion for those whose own selfish behavior leads them to this position in life. I've been very clear, that I won't say anything to her, but I don't plan to help pick up the pieces for her self-induced, destructive ways.

I would hope that people would realize sometimes there are no second chances, and actions DO SPEAK LOUDER than your words. If found in this situation, don't fool yourself into believing that everyone is falling for your world of make believe. Realize YOU are the fool, not everyone else. Better yet, get over whatever it is that happened in the past, let it go, and forgive. Try to hold onto the notion that they did the best they could with what they had at the time as there is no way to turn back the hands of time.

Just Wait Until Next Lifetime

First and foremost, I’d like to thank those who still came by to visit during my absence. It was completely unintended, however, I’ve just experienced what must be the longest two weeks of my entire existence on earth. Usually time flies right by for me, and oftentimes I pray for just a couple of extra hours in any given week. Mental note, it is true to be careful what you wish for. I had hopes of those extra hours coming during a vacation, weekend getaway, even an office holiday. Instead it came in the form of having an additional person moving into the already chaotic house.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family dearly, they mean the world to me, but…My time has been filled with repeated conversations with my father in law, who bless his heart is reminding me of ten second Tom from Adam Sandler’s Fifty First Dates. Then when I think all is lost, he catches me sneaking his payment back for ice cream. He remembers that he meant to buy gas each and every time he gets in the car.

It’s been an interesting ride I must say. We haven’t always gotten along all that well. He’s not always been my advocate. I am the one who stole his son away from him, and he reminds me of it frequently. Well, not as frequently these days. Next lifetime, I’m coming back as a high strung, high maintenance blond bombshell. Watch out, a hang nail will be the end of my world, and EVERYONE will endure my pain.

I recently read a book by Sylvia Browne that says we create our charts before we enter a life. Mine must have been full of fine print, and I must have still had my ADHD on the other side and therefore did not fully comprehend all that I was signing up for. My astrology reports all mention my early childhood trauma, but with that I thought that would free up the years that I would be fully functional. They claim that I’m to be a teacher, writer, psychologist or a community leader, all very noble vocations.

Today I don’t feel like any of those things. Instead I feel I’ve been beat up, washed up, everything but hungry. Life has been moving at a high rate of speed yet time is standing still. Next time I’m opting for the kiddie coaster of life…the Merry go round is more my speed.

Let's All Play Make Believe

We’re back. Spent the week in far away places with so many imaginary friends, we could fill a coliseum. What do you do when the person you’re caring for is bothered by the infringement of his privacy because of his grown children crawling around his house as babies tinkering with the phone cords and television cables? If you’re me, you ask how long have they been doing this? Is everything working better now, and how do I go about hiring them for my own home repairs? Honestly, I could use all the help available, and hey, imaginary children can’t cost nearly as much as licensed professionals.

Then, we went to a ballgame with the Cosby clan. Apparently the Angels won the game. I wonder how many letters Bill Cosby gets thanking him for his kindness, and where he finds the time to hang out with all the people that remember him as Mr. Huxtable. I really could use some time management tips.

The great part in all of this. Somehow I intuitively did what the professionals get paid the big bucks to teach people. I guess all my years of constant daydreaming as a child have finally been found useful. Won’t my mom feel bad about all the times she told me I just needed to apply myself and STOP the daydreaming. I can tell her I was in training for the future.

I’m thinking today maybe to bring him and all of his imaginary friends over. I have a difficult time with clutter building up, and am trying to get the house in order for him to move back home with us. I can either single handedly tackle two bedrooms belonging to young boys that don’t understand that in the civilized world people expect to see a floor, not just blindly walk through a foot of whatever could happen to be in the path, or I can use the help of at least five imaginary children as well as a few adults. That should help me keep the youngsters focused on the task at hand.

I can’t seem to find a way to welcome him to our reality, so I might as well make the best of his. So far the hallucinations seem to frustrate him more than frighten him, so I might as well just kick back and enjoy his game of make believe for awhile. Luckily my inner child is hyperactive, and could use a bit of play time.

The Rest of the Story...

Closure is so important to all of us, whether realized or not, and as I know inquiring minds are dying to find out the scoop, here you go.

Catfight was easily won. Well, not so much a competition as to actually getting a glimpse into a 30ish old GIRL who is desperately trying to cling on to the best thing she ever let slip away. Sure, she tried her best, but I blocked all of her punches. I loved her comment about if you knew me, you’d understand. The funny thing was, I knew her WAY BETTER than she thought. So, my thorn was easily removed, and if she should try to send any more cards to MY house, phone calls, IM’s; closing them with “Luv Ya” I will realize it is merely a desperate attempt by a pathetic individual. Little cutsie hearts over your “i” may be appropriate for the Paris Hilton crowd or immature girls roaming the halls in high school, however, there comes a time when they lose their appeal and are merely pathetic. So, I have closure knowing that her concept of BFF with my significant other is merely a one-sided friendship that is no threat to me, and now instead of cringing, I’ll say a little prayer that she find her way in life.

Secondly, after a conversation with a doctor yesterday it was determined that Manipulation is NOT a disorder, but Lewy Body Disorder is. So, in essense we are dealing with a disorder in a dysfunctional personality, therefore, it’s a very blurry, confused situation. I had to accept that it’s not personal, that it truly is a brain degenerating, getting old and wearing out. It is a TRUE disease. As one headlined screamed out to me “Scrooge Probably Suffered from LBD” Woo Hoo!!!!!!!!!

Imagine having to sit down with a 10 year old to tell him that it’s going to be like having a little brother in a 74 year old body. After the initial glaze left his eyes, I think he understood.

Have no fear, I found another forum for THE ventfests that will be involved on THIS roller coaster ride. I’m determined to keep my sanity and most importantly my warped sense of humor. Worst case scenario, I checked and my standing reservation at the Padded Inn is still available.

Disorder or Dysfunction?

When is something a disorder? What’s makes it so? In my mind, a disorder, especially those that occur later in life are totally random. Hurt feelings hit everyone in that person’s life. Manipulation is selective pain innvoked on others. How do you find treatment for both, when there is so much gray area to cover. How do you truly discover what can be treated through medicine versus psychologically?

Recent episodes have included mind boggling symptoms, that are ever changing. Confusion with clarity to call the one with emotional baggage er, ties. Feel my pain, don’t you feel bad, fix me, BUT…only on MY TERMS. To me that’s not a disorder but rather a dysfunction.

Above that, add a medical diagnosis that maybe it’s Lewy Body so it’s unpredictable. Even medical professionals are now saying that if it truly is Lewy Body it’s the slowest progressing case they’ve ever witnessed.

With over fifteen years dealing with recovery, and many more dealing with manipulation, my input comes across as a cold hearted, uncaring, biased outsider, who just hasn’t a clue as to the significant changes this person has gone through over the last few years.

Well, true, I’m an outsider…true, I’m warped in my opinion, but the fact is, the person has been the same cold hearted, self centered individual I’ve encountered for the last five years.

How do you possibly tell someone you love that their parent is a lying, self centered, self serving piece of something cows would say ewww about? There is no politically correct way of spinning that one. Hell, Karl Rove couldn’t spin that one and make it look good.

This man made my life a living hell for three of those five years, bitter, hell yeah. Forgiving, I can do that, forget, no way. My belief is this man has had people fishing for him for so many years that he never had to learn to fish for himself. He’s burned bridges to safety without a care, and now he’s feeling the consequences for all of those bad choices he’s made in his life, and searching for someone to fish some more. His antics have increased in drama due to the fact that he’s cried wolf so many times, most of the sheep are gone, and only one lifeline remains.

As he’s looking for pity from the one remaining ally, he’s giving credit to all the wrong people. In the process he’s pushing away the one remaining teammate he has, foresaking them while thanking those who have not been there, have not cared, think he’s full of it.

If it truly is a disorder, I would go to the ends of the earth to help, but I’m having a tough time diserning what is real and what is fabricated. We’re back again hearing the doctor’s mention Lewy Body, and back to feeling the guilt and pain, hoping that we do all that we can to help a man not seeming worthy of our love and assistance.

Terrible Two's

What do you do when you see the terrible two’s without a toddler in sight? Lately I’ve seen more than my fair share of temper tantrums, unfortunately the throwers are way beyond the stage of life when they are acceptable, and definitely no longer cute.

Actually, temper tantrums, although sometimes humorous to passerbys, are never really cute, no matter what age. The growing trend I’ve seen is these hissy fits lasting from adulthood into the golden years. As a public service, let me tell you a temper tantrum at these points in your life are pathetic no matter what angle the lens is.

What do you do when you have an in-law throwing hissy fits into his 70’s? In-law! That means you inherited this one; no emotional ties, no paybacks, no guilt trips involved. You either ignore, and stay as far away from them as possible, or you take my route, call it as you see it. Mental note, my method is not the best choice, especially if you care about serenity, calm or stability.

I have found there is absolutely no winning, no draws…nadda. It is the quickest route to total chaos. You will NEVER EVER be seen as helpful. You will not win. You will ALWAYS be the outsider, the bad guy.

I’m stuck today with “why do you hate my father?” In my mind I can alphabetize or place in numerical order the countless answers to that question. That is left better unsaid, just remember those words of wisdom.

This man has burned every bridge he has ever had. Shredded every safety rope, down to a thread. The brain does NOT engage prior to the opening of his mouth. My favorite, is clueless when called on it. He has one advocate left, and unfortunately for me, it had to be the one man I married. Every conceivable solution is met with his lack of willingness. I’ve spent countless hours devising plots and plans to no avail.

Top that with life experiences that were traumatic. He survived the internment camps of WWII, buried a wife and a child. Who wouldn’t be depressed? It’s easy to victimize your situation with those struggles. I keep that in mind, and should I ever forget, I’m constantly reminded. I’m not cold. I’m very empathetic, and will eagerly go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need, with one slight catch…one must be willing to want my assistance.

He and I have many similarities, more than he could ever think possible. I’ve survived abuse, neglect, abandonment, addiction, divorce and death, some of those by the age of six. The major difference is I REFUSE to let anyone or anything keep me down. Life experience I use to learn from. I don’t accept being a victim. I’m constantly learning and growing. God knows, when something is painful, I can procrastinate like no one else, but eventually I get down to the dirty work needed to heal, to move on, and move forward. I NEVER GIVE UP on myself.

So, for the moment, I’m the cold heartless, judgemental outsider who will just NEVER understand the situation at hand, banished to my doghouse yet again.

Maybe it’s true that I don’t get it, but I think the true problem is that I understand it all too well.

Parents Revenge

Hear ye, hear ye, all of you parents struggling with the terrible two’s or twenty’s. I have gathered some valuable information to help you through your trials and tribulations.

It’s amazing how a weekend with an elderly woman can create such enlightenment. There is much to be learned from our elders. Personally, I have experienced a profound attitude adjustment towards my children and all of the chaos they create. I was able to see the similarities between the two age groups, and can tell you that the second childhood is very real.

A weekend of errands with grandma can teach you so much. It begins as such a simple request, usually brought up after mentioning that she needs your signature on a legal document. It’s a blur of fine print with the word Beneficiary at the top. That is her trap. Once you sign on that dotted line, you belong to her.

You say to yourself, it can’t be that difficult taking her to the store? So you tell her “No problem.” You place her gently in the front seat; fold the wheelchair and walker, loading them in the trunk. Drive two blocks in 104°temperatures to the drug store. You unload the trunk; unload grandma, who is apprehensive due to a recent fall. She is grabbing your arm so tightly you can feel your pulse. You then explain, much like you would to a two year old, that under no circumstance is she to leave this spot until you return. Now to park the car; the parking lot is packed, after what seems an eternity, a space finally opens up. You hike back half a mile to accompany her through the store. You relish in the cool air-conditioned environment. Not so bad you think.

Before fully catching your breath, she brandishes her list, which resembles your son’s list to Santa, scribbled in random order as things came to her aging mind. After grabbing the toothbrush and moving onto aspirin, she reaches denture cream on the list. After backtracking several times through the store, you yank the paper from her hands, and refuse to leave the aisle until the list is completely scanned repeatedly to assure no other items are needed.

Your adventure does not stop here. After four hours are spent in the drug store, it is time to reload the car and drive back to her apartment. You unload her wheelchair and walker, which by now feel like a Sherman Tank. You carry her from the car. You then return to carry a trunk full of purchases up to the door.

At this point she discovers the lack of space in her house. This requires strategic mapping to assure the safe storage of the store’s inventory to avoid a late night phone call telling you there’s been an terrible accident caused by a poorly stored heating pad falling from a shelf.

Next stop, the grocery store. Another list is presented, but after your experience you convince her to stay behind and rest, as she exclaims, “I’m exhausted”. Sweat is dripping from your face, and she’s tired? She follows up with guilt that only a mother knows; “I wouldn’t need to get so many things if you came to visit more often.”

When planning for our Golden Years, most of us think of our financial and medical needs. We make sure that our 401K plans are earning the best possible return and all necessary policies are in place. Although very prudent, these are merely pieces of a well-designed retirement, but not a complete plan. Think outside the box. Financial planning is a tool to assure that revenge against our children has a much higher return.

I studied the manipulation that took place last weekend, and am making mental notes for my revenge while the experience is still fresh in my mind. The best part is that medical breakthroughs are extending our quality of life, allowing us much more free time to aggravate those sweet, innocent children of today for many more years to come.

If they choose to fight and argue amongst themselves for a video game controller, I can now sit calmly with a smirk on my face. I’ll be contemplating my countless, passively irritating visits to the stores, which will require their assistance. Age causes the mind to fade; thoughts are not as clear as in years past, which can and will lead to my lapse of memory of the store layouts. My random lists of items to retrieve if planned well in advanced will lead them on more challenging scavenger hunts than they ever experienced in childhood and will cause more aggravation than I ever endured with their endless whining, complaining and arguing. Just the thought of it makes the worst tantrum or meltdown a bit more tolerable. So if you happen to see a screaming child in the store, and his mom is composed, with a slight grin on her face, rest assured she is merely planning for her future.