Thursday
Aug092012
Full Confessional Friday!
Thursday, August 9, 2012 at 7:25PM Mrs. G.
Photo by mara ~earth light~
Be it Venial or Mortal (there's no escaping Original), we've all got secrets -- light, dark, funny, sad -- worth bringing to light. The act of confession can be liberating, mollifying and entertaining. Contrition? Repentance? A shot of Tequila? That's your call, sister.
tagged Full Confessional Friday
Full Confessional Friday
Reader Comments (30)
I haven't visited my dad in 4 years. No issues between us, it just didn't happen. But I decided all of a sudden that we need to see him before it's too late. So my sons and I are taking a road trip next week. My husband has to work, but my confession is I'm not sorry about that. He'll have a nice relaxing week without us and my sons will have only one backseat driver.
I'm sick of being less-than-healthy, and I'm sick of my life being dominated by work, and I'm sick of working at the most dysfunctional place you can imagine (no, really - it's that bad). I want to change at least one of these things, but I don't seem to be making much progress.
Sorry, not a confession tonight but something I need to share. Bubba, our 18 year old marmalade cat, died Monday morning. He was with us for all but the first few months of those 18 years - I feel so overwhelmed with sadness and disbelief. Bubba was a sweet boy, never hissed or got angry, and greeted us every single morning talking about the new day and yes he'd like a drink from the bathroom sink. I miss him and feel so sad. I know it will get better, I'll feel less raw, but when his sister Doodles died 5 years ago, I cried every day for a year, so I know it will take a while. Please wish my sweet boy a safe journey...
Carol, I do believe Doodles welcomed Bubba, and showed him where the best toys are kept, and where the water always runs cool and crisp.
Oh Carol, you have my sympathy and empathy. It is nearly 18 months and I still have occasional tears for my beautiful Old Man Dog. Take care of yourself.
I've worked really hard over the last few months to lose 70 pounds.....but for the last two months....haven't lost a thing due to being careful all day and binging all night, which is what I did to get myself in the predicament I was in. I haven't gained....but haven't lost either. What worries me is that I have done this sabotage before and so don't want to do it again. I feel like when you quit smoking....never quit quitting.......and I start each day thinking that today will be the day when I get back on track and start out good....but then I fail again. What's wrong with me?
I have a weigh in on the 20th and really need to get it together soon. Oh well...today's a new day.....
I confess that I shall be in NYC this weekend, visiting the wife's sisters too (who also happen to be Bridget's cousins here) and amongst other delightful plans will be hoisting brews at Heartland Brewery 5ish Saturday (if Leslie Jane here and husband and daughter were in Manhattan?) http://www.heartlandbrewery.com/Radio_City.php
I lived in NYC in the early 80s when it was an exciting but gnarly place, and now it is an exciting enormous hipster playground :)
@Carol: My marmalade cat Henry and I are thinking of you and Bubba today.
Feeling overwhelmed lately. My mom, who is 68 years old, fell and broke her hip on Monday. She went through surgery and is getting less than stellar care in the hospital. I've gone in repeatedly to explain to them that she is non-verbal (to many strokes) and doesn't really get the concept of the call bell to ask for help and they still aren't checking on her regularly and assessing pain. She is going 6-8 hours a day without pain meds!!! And the reason she's getting this shitty care at this shitty hospital? She has medicaid along with her medicare. Medicaid won't pay for her to be in a decent hospital. It infuriates me to no end! I am emotionally drained from watching my mom suffer. Then to add insult to injury, my dad's sister calls to say dad is having lots of bloodwork done to rule out bone cancer. I guess my confession today is that I'm not ready to start facing the reality that my parents won't live forever and that someday, being the oldest child, I will be the one making the decisions for them.
My rapidly aging parents have a hard time understanding how crazy-busy things have been for us, including my job which is insane in and of itself. I vowed to make more time for them this summer and yet I've only been to see them twice. TWICE! Now it seems my dad is not doing all that well. His body is betraying him and he's depressed. Mom's depressed too but she's not at all in the same health situation. I've asked them to come to dinner before school starts again and even though know I really want them to come, I also know that this is a piss poor attempt to make things right. Yesterday I represented the family at a funeral for the sister of my mother's oldest childhood friend (she's my namesake). I was struck by how old these people were and then realized that they were my parents PEERS and for a moment I felt as though I was attending my parent's funeral instead. I was so sad! All this emotion and guilt and sadness came rushing at me and I realized that I had allowed my need to establish some kind of "line in the sand" with my folks (after a childhood where they controlled my every move) become a hurdle that I failed to scale when I should have. And now they are old and I'm watching all the decline with a huge amount of disbelief and fear. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.
Oh, I've had my drama for the week. This morning I'm meeting with my life coach again, and will try to focus on the future.
Good luck to you, NacCrackHouse. I will tell you, it's not for everyone, but every time I've finally been able to make a break with a dysfunctional job, the overwhelming feeling that dominates is RELIEF.
This is the first time I've been laid off in my life, and I should be terrified, but all I can feel is sweet, sweet relief.
Becky in Upstate NY and Rainbow Motel, I know just what you mean. My parents are upper 80's, one in fair the other in not so good shape and they are 500 miles away. That is the worst part. Talking on the phone every day and visiting as often as we can make the trip just doesn't feel like enough for me...but we can't move to Canada right now. Worries, stress and guilt can be overwhelming. But boy, do they love each other, and their kids and grandkids and are always so happy to talk on the phone and see us when we are there...that indeed adds a smile to the end of my rant!
And thanks for the invite Gary! We would have loved to see you and the Missus. Unfortunately, we won't be in NYC this weekend. Hope you have a great time!
Well, I finally told the Ex that I need and want child support. He used no child support as the bargaining chip to let me move with our daughter. Since then it has been a constant fight to get him to pay for basic things like lessons, insurance, or even clothes now and then. So, I filed the parenting plan in my county, contacted a mediator, and email him and said this is for everybodies benefit.
No more conflict, no more begging for a gift card to buy her new clothes, no more awful emails from him telling me how much I owe him for him coming to visit her.
I get actually phyically sick everytime I have to email him. He used money as a bludgeon when we were married, a very effective bludgeon during the divorce, and now I finally realized, he has no more leverage. I am going after some fair child support.
So, I sent the email, and am not checking my email for two days, I don't want the stress of worrying when his awful response will show up.
Last night, I got online and kind of sentimental and made a donation to The House of Puddles, a home for unwanted and/or special needs elderly Basset Hounds.
My husband just shakes his head and sighs. I've always admired people who donated to things they believe in, and I have decided to become one of those people.
I support NPR, Obama for America, the House of Puddles, the Humane Society, Child Abuse Prevention Services, and and an anti-human-trafficking organization called "Traffick Jam".
I can't give much, but I figure, I needed to start somewhere, right? I'm not just being a sucker, am I?
My birthday is in just a few weeks, and I've been thinking that at that age, my dad had eight years left and my mom, fourteen. (Of course, my grandfather had forty-seven; and I don't smoke.) I still miss them, though it's been over twenty-six years since I lost one and twelve for the other. I once thought that I'd welcome their decline and constant caring for them instead of losing them so young, but no more. I listen to my friends, read the comments here. I wanted to sit by my dad's bedside and repeat, "I love you," over and over while he was dying, but realized it would never seem I'd said it enough, and it was enough. My mom lay in the hospital bed, holding my hand and that of my sister while the biggest moon predicted for centuries filled the window, and she smiled at us and said, "My ladybugs!" periodically would stare at a point of nothingness in the room, muttering, "How are you?" or "It's been so long, good to see you again," and "Hello!" As much as I miss my dad who cried with me and hugged me tight, and my mom who criticized everything I did so I'd always do better, I feel some relief. They taught me to leave while the party is still good.
Best to you all on your heartaches, and may your good party be still in the early stages. from the northern-most outpost of the Caribbean, new orleans
What a crappy week. I'm exhausted. Just completely done.
Carol, sending lots of love and peace for you and your wonderful Bubba from me and the wonder cats. (And Annie, I have an orange cat named Henry too!)
Take it easy everyone. Things have got to get better for us all. We deserve it.
@ Carol, I'm so sorry about your cat.
Seems to be an aging parents theme this week. I am visiting with mine on Sunday. It's usually depressing. My mom is showing early (mid) signs of dementia, and my dad - sole caregiver - is in denial and angry about the caretaking. When we offer help, he refuses and gets more pissed off. See? Depressing.
Wishing you all a derf-tastic weekend.
xo
I threw a rare fit this week. I am so tired of my husband supporting our grown (34 and 39) adopted children. We are in our late 50's and early 60's. I am retired and my husband would like to retire someday. These men beg for money and tear at my husbands very tender heart
strings and he gives in. Then they treat him like dirt and break his heart over and over again. I was ugly and kinda mean. But this has to stop. I think I have finally gotten through to him. I hate feeling this way about the boys, but I am so tired of supporting their poor and really stupid choices. Their attitude is "its my life and I will do what I want, if it hurts others thats just too bad." They have actually said that to us. Thanks for letting me rant.
My thoughts are with all of you that are having problems and are broken hearted over losses. You are in my prayers.
I'm a little frustrated at work - I want to attend a training workshop, my office manager is kind of making noises that she doesn't want to do it , thinks it is too much driving and such for her (I'm willing to go all on my own, thank you !) and while we are having a meeting tomorrow with all four of us (that's the whole staff, including the doc) I'm not sure anything will really get resolved.
I've been low grade sick all week and still am only marginally better. Earaches are the worst. Okay, not the worst, but they are annoying.
I'm hoping I can convince my husband that going out to dinner would be most excellent tonight. I worked today, he played golf.
To my good friend's husband: I know you can not read body language. This I have learned about you over the years. But some of us can read body language really well. So when you are ravaging your wife's close friend with your eyes, behind each of your spouse's backs, some of us know exactly what you're up to. Oh, and when you stand in a group picture next to your wife but you put your hand on her close friend's ass? Some of us see that, too. A few of us even see your vehicle parked in the friend's driveway minutes after both spouses have left for work. That does not require reading body language to know what's up.
@Carol: I'm so very sorry about your cat. There are no words, it never gets any easier. May the joy he brought into your life be his lasting legacy.
I'm thinking maybe we ought to start a thread for those dealing with aging parent issues over the Derf Assist List. I admit I've backburnered my own aging parent issues because I have got to spend some energy moving my own life forward. Which I did a little of this week by doing something that was scary to me and is probably no big deal to anyone else (and I'd rather not say what, thanks).
The thoughts about aging and dying parents strike close to home. I've had significant health problems (autoimmune disease and cancer) that forever changed how I see suffering, the body, death. We will all suffer and die -- but that's so impossible to incorporate into our daily lives (I mean -- how could you wake up and feed the dogs and think "someday they will b in pain and then gone forever and me too") and still function? We can't. So we don't fully appreciate that the demise of the body is our final SHARED destination. I applaud everyone here trying to do the right thing for their parents. The 'right thing' in our culture isn't clearly outlined, of course, which makes it harder. But witnessing illness and death after experiencing extreme illness, has made me much softer toward those suffering as the body goes--because I hope people will treat me with patience and care. BUT. Before I sound too saint-like, I have a horrible, pretty much impossible, time extending this generosity of spirit when it comes to my own mother. The past jumps up and gets in the way of the sort of universal human compassion we all feel when we see TV ads for starving children. It's puzzling to me (and a lesson) that I can cry over those starving children and the suffering of a good friend, but feel nothing but silence and hardness when it comes to my mother. So . . . sort of veering off here, but if you can tap into the universality of suffering, I think it makes the decisions of how to behave easier. For the past two years, I cared for dear friend who died an unspeakable horrific death from cervical cancer (HPV --get your children, boys and girls, vaccinated -- she was a lesbian too and STILL got the virus). I was able to respond to her without any sense of self or need. I think that perhaps because the sense of 'self' and 'need' were defined through my mother, I have a hard time establishing those as separate from her, if that makes sense. So I feel for those of you dealing with this. I cut a devil's deal with my brother twenty years ago: I would care for my father (they hadn't seen each other since my brother was two but my father and I were close) and he would take care of my mother. We both kept our ends of the deal. When my dad died without a dim to his name and 13 felony arrest warrants trailing him, I gave him a funeral and figured out the legal stuff. My brother bought my mom a house a few minutes from his and sees her every day. Calculated, yes. But so far, working. Just lots of stuff involved in caring for our aging parents -- a place we will one day live in.
My troubles this week are old and unimportant. Instead, I will lend my virtual shoulder to anyone who needs it. Carol, we understand your loss and hope your heart is eased in time. And to those who are dealing with parental issues, you have my sympathy and best wishes for strength of character to get you through what must be done. As difficult and complicated as it became I'm glad of the time I invested in my mother before she died, but your mileage may vary.
Take care of yourselves, dear Derfs.
I hardly need to write my own comment, I could just snip from previous ones.
Beloved dog had emergency surgery last night with a six months to live prognosis; aging in-laws wreaking havoc with stubborn refusal to plan and then *shocked* when chaos ensues. The best part of my day yesterday was chatting with a contractor fixing my fountain. As an aside I mentioned where I'd seen water in the past and got a stunned look from him. If I hadn't mentioned it, he might have been electrocuted.
"No electrocutions" is now my mantra to remind myself it could be worse.
Hugs to all the other Derfs who need them.
Reading here today has brought to mind the guilt I keep shoving under the carpet: I need to call my dad a lot more often. I can't really say why I don't follow through... I know he needs the phone calls, and my schedule isn't THAT complicated... perhaps it is because every time I've called lately, he is not in a good place (the toilet, usually). But having lost one parent last year, I should know better! Obviously, there are some issues not being addressed.
I really miss my mom who died in 2009 - but I also feel relief that she did not linger and suffer from the stroke that ended her life. She had a decade of major health problems (lots of nights in the hospital for me) before she died but at 86 was tooting around town in her Camry and doing volunteer work!
Here is what I would change: (I hate unsolicited advice but have to share this!!!)
If you have siblings make your parents write down on paper how they want to distribute their belongings!!! Mom had a good trust in place which left the "value of the estate" to the five of us - but she did not specify who would get jewelry, silver, china, art, furniture etc... A BIG ASS mess now! She also left 15 years of tax returns un-filed. Ugh.
Don't let them make YOU the executor - but that's a lot better than YOU and one of your siblings. Mom made me and my sister "co-executors". Horrible - my brothers fired my sister after a year and now I am in the middle of an ancient sibling rivalry. Blech.
I'm thinking of making my therapy sessions an "expense of the estate". I wonder if my accountant would approve that. Hmm...
I feel like I am so close to the edge on a regular basis....I could cry at the drop of a hat. All. The. Time. I get weepy watching TV, listening to the radio, reading facebook....everything. I want it to stop. I want to be more...I seem to be stagnant.
I've been pretty stressed at work and frustrated/blocked/disillusioned with my personal life and goals lately. I know there are ebbs and flows and have been through them before, but for the first time in my life (I'm 36), I think I'm drinking too much as a coping mechanism.
I've always been aware that I don't have the 'alcoholic gene'...had a few "Hey, I'm 21 now, let's see what this party time binge drinking thing is all about!" but got over that fast, and for a long time never kept alcohol in the house. (Diet soda was the drink of choice for years.) But for the past month or two, I've been anticipating and looking forward to that red wine every night when I get home, and will have 2-3 glasses from Ye Trusty Olde Wine Box du Jour.
I know that it's partly because I live alone and there's no one to comment or notice. I also know that it's because I'm frustrated and nothing else seems to be in my control for happiness. I still exercise, I still fret over my diet, I work and read and would not collapse if I went without booze for a night or two. But the problem is that I don't want to do without...it's my one consistent pleasure right now.
And that's a little worrisome.
Bonnie, I would totally second your recommendations. Before my mom died, we had many discussions about how the money was to be divided, who got what, and what pieces were to stay in the family no matter what.Of course there was lots of little stuff, but most of that has been worked out because the discussions started early.
I work with people who are currently acting like, to quote Hyperbole and a Half, "attention deficit squirrel(s) on PCP". Trying to have a meeting is like trying to nail jello to a wall, and while I really like the people I work with, I am a tad bit FRUSTRATED at the moment.
The above quote is from this post, one of my favorites. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html