Posted by: Judy | April 11, 2012

More reflecting…

In all honesty, I think my melancholy is simply a matter of being overtired, allergies… sigh… well, those things don’t help, but it’s a matter of having to change my routines.

My mother has changed her routines, which means I have to change mine… once I settle in…. well, shoot…. once I settle in, she’ll change again…

Yes, she really will go to elaborate, insane lengths. If I establish a routine, she will find a way to interfere with it. You think I’m crazy.

All my life, she has cried about how awful her allergies are, especially in the evening. She couldn’t vacuum, because it stirred up dust. She had to be in the basement in the evenings to escape the pollen. She has a program she watches at 4:30, which she will watch downstairs, unless I’m expected to leave for somewhere, and then she arranges to be upstairs by the side door I’m not allowed to use because it lets pollen in, more than the back door or front door. It doesn’t matter if it’s windy or not. Now, she vacuums and cleans in the evening, upstairs. What happened to all the hysterics about allergies? The berating for my thoughtlessness? Oh, that will come if I use the side door. She is vacuuming! And has the audacity to declare her asthma attacks (which I think are panic attacks) are because I slipped out the side door, which took me less than 30 seconds, unless, of course, she asks a question as I’m walking out the door, though not two minutes before when I was in the house with the door closed. No. She waits until I open the door to go out, and then asks, and is hurt if I don’t reply trying to shut the door quickly and is angry if I answer because I took too long going out the door.

Oh. When she is nice, it’s agonizing because it’s a lie. I see what could be but know what is. Then I have to listen to the criticism rain down on my head, because others see what could be without truly knowing what is.

…and I’m back to wishing I had a little garden to putter around in….

Oh. I want a little peace.

Things have not been peaceful of late. The computer stuff, family stuff, online stuff (I know several people who have had their emails and credit cards hacked), and feeling very alone in it all. I know God is there, but He will not live my life for me. If I need something or want something, I must do it or ask for it. There are no house fairies. If I’m feeling under the weather, there is no one to pick up the slack, no one to offer to make dinner for me. If I don’t feel up to making something, or dealing with my mother’s territorial actions in the kitchen, I don’t eat.

Dear God, I am doing all I know how to do and all I am capable of doing right now. It isn’t enough. Please, make up the difference. Thanks. In Jesus name, Amen.


Responses

  1. ((((((((((((((Judy))))))))))) I am saying prayers for you. Praying God will bring you comfort and also the strength to do even the things you don’t want to do. If I’m smart I also remember to say the same one for myself, since I’m very good at running avoidance patterns (I think that’s a football term)…
    Peace,
    Mary

    • Thanks, Mary. You are a blessing in my life, and I thank God every day for you.

  2. One person does know exaclty what you mean. The greatest thing that came out of therapy. It’s not me…she really is insane. Hugs.

    • Thanks for the reassurance and the hugs, Ruth! You’re another blessing in my life.

  3. Judy! I know everything is unbearable for you right now. Some days are easier to fight off the effects of the torment. Sadly, other days are excruciating. you feel overwhelmed and in a whirlwind.

    Sweety, if you are able, get out of there for a while. Get around your friends and get your mind on something positive!! You’ll have to force yourself when you are in this spot. I have lived where you are. Not a good thing. Is there somewhere else you can go until you are on your feet?

    I know the confusion she is causing. The eggshell walking and the fear. When you are overwhelmed, you freeze (as I do) psychologically and emotionally. You must push through this time! I’m praying for you!! I really do feel what you are going through. You’ll pull through this and be fine. Try to keep yourself from being a prisoner to her. She sees the torment she’s creating inside of you, and is thriving on it! Don’t give her the satisfaction. Hugs!!! BIG ONES!!

    • And another one of my blessings. πŸ™‚ Hugs back!

      I think part of the trouble is that I haven’t been able to afford to go to L.A., not this year or last, when I usually go in March and September, four-days of bliss. πŸ™‚ I can breath. So there has been no break. I can’t imagine how I survived all those years before I found my friends in L.A.

      At the end of this month, I will be attending a writing conference. Then again, it’s kind of scary, since it’s my first one. I was asked what I hoped to get out of it, and frankly, I’m hoping I don’t have a panic attack. Then I have a readers’ conference in June. See, and here is the sticky wicket: My parents are paying for me to attend, an investment. Dammed if I do and dammed if I don’t.

      Unfortunately, I’ve finished off all the jelly beans. I’ll do better, tomorrow, because there are no more jelly beans. πŸ™‚ Process of elimination. πŸ˜›

      I will make it through this mess, and be the better for it.

      Thanks for the encouragement, lifebegins45.

      • Do you think some of the feeling of being overwhelmed, could be due to nerves over the up-coming conference? I don’t understand it, but when I am nervous (ie: the contest I’m in right now), the effects of the N or P seem exponential. Believe me, they know it and love that fact, too! Extreme self-doubt hits every area sometimes, which seems to be heightened when nerves are a factor. You are a power-house, girl! Go get em’!! πŸ˜€

        As for the jelly beans…darn it!! I was hoping you’d send me some πŸ™‚ lol!! If I was there, we’d be heading out for lunch right now!

        • Now you mention it, yes. The piling on effect. πŸ™‚

          Sorry about the jelly beans. I’ll try to remember, next year. LOL! And out to lunch sounds delightful!

      • Get out of the house for awhile, and away from your thoughts. Time is a double-edged sword. It heals,but can also create the perfect scenario for ruminating over things, which can be a trap. Create a new scenario to bring in thoughts and feelings of peace. Go to the park and watch the kids play (anyone’s kids) and take a good book and a LUNCH… window shopping, anything! Take YOUR control back from those who don’t deserve it.

        You’re a great blessing to me, too πŸ™‚

        • I actually have plans to go to my favorite croissant place, tomorrow morning. Hot chocolate with whole milk and whip cream and a strawberry croissant… maybe cherry… anyway, and my Kindle. I’m looking forward to it.

          • Take me! Take me!! πŸ˜€ I hope you enjoy your day tomorrow

            • πŸ˜€

  4. I don’t know how you manage to be so nice and sane while living with your mother. You are a strong, strong lady.

    I was chuckling a bit about your mother’s allergies. Mine claims she’s deathly allergic to crab, which over the years became all shellfish, clams,etc. then all fish except cod or haddock, then anything cooked in the same oil as seafood (because she was certain all french fries in restaurants featuring fish recycled their oil. I don’t remember too many fishy tasting fries…), then being in the room where seafood has been cooked. Endless, endless.

    She has never been to an allergist, and considering she thinks her allergies are near fatal, you’d think she would.

    I think the whole thing is a lot of hooey. I think she ate a sandwich with crabmeat that went bad when she was a kid and it made her throw up. Her family had only an ice box when she was little and could not afford to throw out food. I remember her eating lobster and clams often in the summers when I was young.

    Also, I shouldn’t admit this, but once in my late teens, I ordered chinese food for my family (I was the only one willing to pick up the phone to call or go get the take out — no idea what that wacky hangup was about) and forgot that the Imperial Delight had chicken, beef and shrimp. So I removed all pieces of shrimp before she got to it. Wouldn’t you know she loved it the most?

    I don’t know if I secretly hoped she’d balloon up or if I understood her hypochondria. But I do think she LOVES the fuss of having such dire allergies and needing special accommodations. It’s a great way of manipulating getting her way while playing poor sick thing.

    I’m a jerk for saying it, but I think your mom is playing the same farce.

    • Nope, you’re not a jerk, just calling it like you see it. Thanks for the reassurance, and for being a blessing in my life.

      To be fair, she does see an allergist and gets allergy shots. The problem is how random her reactions are. If she sees me use the side door, she has an asthma attack that night. If she doesn’t see me use the door, then she’s fine. I’ve watched her eat things containing allergy-trigging foods, and declare them delicious and not a problem when I point out it’s one of her food allergies.

      I have allergies. I believe she has allergies. I also believe she uses them to manipulate others and play the pay-attention-to-me and poor-me cards, depending on what the occasion warrants. I’ve watched her use her allergies to demand special attention at informal gatherings, restaurants, and special events at which she should not have been the center of attention, but quickly became exactly that. She uses her allergies to control my dad, and pretty much everyone else, because she could become deathly ill if everyone doesn’t meet her demands. Wow… that’s insane.

      She did claim to go into anaphylactic shock once, after she had an allergy shot, but I don’t think it’s happened any other time. I wouldn’t be so skeptical if it weren’t so arbitrary.

      The odd part is my mother talked me out of seeing an allergist, describing in great detail how painful the scratch test is. I have to admit, I had a doctor who didn’t believe in allergies, and it was a relief to have my mother’s long-standing trouble as evidence. However, the struggle circles back to the total lack of consistency, in everything, except the assurance that inconsistency was a guarantee.

      • It sounds like our moms do the same dance just to a slightly different song.

        FWIW, the scratch tests don’t hurt. It’s literally a scratch. Even if they inject, it’s with a super fine needle and just the surface layer. They don’t want the substances to get into your system, just get a epidermal reaction. It does get uncomfortable if you get a reaction, but they administer whatever they need to to halt the problem. They don’t want to send you home in danger.

        I had over 300 scratch tests the same day. My son, who has a severe peanut allergy as well as significant ones to tree pollens, had them done when he was in second grade. He hates needles (passed out when they drew blood for a separate test), but was ok with the scratch tests even when he got all itchy and bumpy from the pollen.

        I dunno. Maybe your mom could let you have allergies too. My mom loves to be the sickest person. Meanwhile, we kids were fakers and got punished for vomiting and treated like we did it on purpose. It took me years to not think I was a big wuss and not sick if I felt unwell but didn’t have a fever over 100.

        But my mom smells fish and it’s a drama.

        Here’s one funny thing: she has an enlarged heart because she’s overweight and sedentary (she may be technically obese, but I’m bad at guessing weights). During one of his defenses of her, my dad told me some time after this diagnosis that “your mother has a big heart.”

        I almost fell out of my chair laughing. It was so hard to keep a straight face.

        • Sigh… She made it sound so awful. I figured my allergies out on my own without it.

          Funny you should mention my mom allowing me to have my allergies, because it’s true technically, but only more recently. She always tells everyone that she didn’t force her children to eat anything because she didn’t know who was allergic to what, and yet I remember her force feeding me oatmeal and changing from anything with while flour to whole wheat. I’m allergic to bran. She would change her recipes to contain foods I can’t eat. I hadn’t even realized what she was doing. Putting on the usual front. She can’t get away with it now, but I grew up with it, thinking what was wrong with me when I heard what she said, while living with what she did.

          It’s also difficult for me to admit when I’m unwell, because I don’t want to be like my mom.

          My mother constantly worries about her health and then will brag about her doctor appointments, and how the doctor says she’s healthier than she’s ever been.

          Darn. I’m so going to hell. πŸ˜€

  5. Judy, you crack me up! Just sayin πŸ˜€

    • πŸ™‚ Happy to oblige. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how ACoNs survive! Thank you God for a sense of humor.

      • like like like like like~!

        • πŸ˜€


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