Posted by: Judy | February 9, 2017

I am a writer.

I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer.

Today’s post is for me. I need the reminder. Being a caretaker, I’ve spent most of the last few months endeavoring to keep body and soul together. I enjoyed two months of not dealing with NM, but I was working to make sure EF was taken care of. Have I mentioned how I first panicked when I realized I’d be cooking for two instead of one? I’ve been cooking for one for decades. What’s more? I learned to be as simple and easy as possible so I was out of the way as quickly as possible. Sandwiches, crackers and cheese, cereal, and Carnation Instant Breakfast constituted most of my meals.

NM lied in order to come home. EF lied about how he’d handle it.

Okay, God, what am I supposed to be learning?

I’m back where I was before the beginning of October. Doing my best to stay out of the way, as unseen as possible. Instead of fearing NM’s wrath or criticism, I don’t want to deal with NM or EF’s lies about anything.

I have finally learned that interacting with either of them, in any way, is not healthy. I am not mean or nasty for maintaining a healthy distance.

Loving a person means not allowing them to abuse you, use you, or treat you badly because it isn’t loving to you. In order to love them, you have to love yourself. That’s a tough one, but I think I’m “getting” it. Loving God helps me love myself, and loving myself teaches me to love others.

I am a writer.

Writing has been especially difficult. I’m tired all the time. I hate how much time I spend struggling to remember what I’m doing, what comes next, sitting and staring… I feel less guilty spending time on FB because at least I’m sort of interacting with people. Better than dealing with my mind being blank, no thought lingering long enough to tie anything together.

I am a writer.

It used to be that I could say I couldn’t remember the last time I slept well. Now, it was in November, while NM was still in the care center and EF talked like things would change. I could breathe. It was a novel sensation. I didn’t accomplish much writing then, either, because I was busy taking care of the house, meals, and making sure EF was cared for.

I want to say I wish I hadn’t bothered, but I know now that isn’t me. I’ve learned a lot about myself. There are lines I will not cross, no matter how NM attempts to push my buttons. I’m a good person. I’m a nice person. This does not mean I’m required to interact with NM or EF. I haven’t the time or the energy to figure out what’s lies and what’s truth, what’s real and what’s a performance.

I am a writer.

I need to re-establish my writing habits. I think I’m ready to do that.

I am a writer.

Unfortunately, NM wakes me throughout the night, clack, clack, each time she uses the potty in her room, situated next to mine. Unfortunately thin walls. The microwave beeping, in the kitchen, when EF makes himself a midnight snack. I’m tired. Add to it the stress of dealing with all the lies. It’s wearing.

I endeavor to give the battle to God, but He isn’t the one living with the insanity, the lies, the problems, both real and imagined. Okay, He gets it and He hasn’t abandoned me. I haven’t figured out how to give it all over to God. I’m working on it.

Back to writing.



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