Several months ago, NM looked me in the eye, smiled, and lied about me to a room full of people. It was hardly the first time, nor the last. However, in that moment, I accepted I could never have a relationship with her.
With recent events, I haven’t known what to write. Then I read my sister’s post:
It’s been a month since NM fell and ended up in the hospital and then a rehab center. I’ve never wished something of this sort to happen to her. I’m not happy this happened to her.
I am not involved in any decisions regarding her care. I write a regular update message, from what others tells me, to keep siblings in the loop.
I was thrown from taking care of me, for over thirty years, to cleaning house and cooking for two. My father and I are working out a new routine.
It’s difficult when people ask how NM is. I don’t want to hear their well wishes or sympathy. To be honest, NM worked hard for this, though not quite this. NM wanted to tie EF to her side. Every chance she had, she begged him to walk with her so she wouldn’t fall, often refusing to use a walker or her canes. She would tell people she didn’t want to walk like an old woman. She did walk like an old woman. Pride is an unforgiving taskmaster. NM was told to stick to sidewalks instead of walking through the neighbors’ yards, risking a fall. She defied that advice. Good thing she fell in the kitchen and not out on one of her walks where it might have been a while before someone found her.
It’s difficult when people tell me she says that reading my books saves her sanity. I don’t want to hear it. I’m not flattered or pleased. I don’t want the responsibility. Yes, like my sister, I’m being placed in the savior role. I am no one’s savior. I won’t take the bait. I refuse to be emotionally blackmailed. This is the same person who blamed me for countless other problems, including mistakes she made. If she’d wanted a relationship with me, she shouldn’t have lied so much about me. She chose to sacrifice my trust on her altar of appearances.
I don’t know what will happen. I’m finally really learning to live in the moment. I have enough on my plate without adding the worries of the future. My father and I start the day discussing the morning’s schedule. At noon, we discuss the rest of the day. His schedule, meals, my responsibilities, etc, are worked through.
My writing has taken a hit. I usually write in the evenings, but I don’t like leaving him alone. We’ve watched movies and television and laughed, more than I can ever remember. We eat at least one meal together. By the way, in my effort to make sure he eats well, I’m eating better and losing weight. Unforeseen side effect.
Interestingly enough, I’ve discovered I miss a few of my bad eating habits. I’m working to break them.
Taking one day at a time and sometimes one moment at a time.