As you may have been able to tell by my lack of posts, I have been struggling. The struggle has been physical, emotional, health-related, situational...basically, "All of the Above". My two weeks away, visiting my mother in North Carolina and my friend in the DC area had a cost, that I am still struggling to pay. I can get through these situations that call for increased output in energy both mental and physical. It seems to work like a bank loan, but like the Pay Day Loan Sharks, the Interest compounds daily, and is astronomical, and payback is expected on the first day back.
I have had multiple days of food allergy induced sleep "comas", but whereas before my trip, it would take the day of and the day after the "coma", my recovery period has seemed never-ending. The words that I would compose when by myself, did not come to me. My brain has, maybe not so amazingly, been empty. No thoughts, just blank.
And life has seemed to intrude. A beloved aunt has been diagnosed with stomach cancer and has been undergoing chemotherapy. I have been trying to send her little notes and cards by "snail mail".
I received a life update from a lifelong friend from grade school who has been struggling for years with Rheumatoid Arthritis and had to quit her job in Computer Graphics and file for Social Security Disability around the same time I did. She shared with her friends that her lungs are permanently damaged from the RA, and the condition is progressive. This talented and beautiful soul who is a gifted artist and writer has been given 2-5 years to live, as her lungs slowly and permanently become more restricted. She will slowly and surely suffocate. She is a year older than me, with two grown children, one of whom still lives with her as this daughter has Bi-polar Disorder. My friend is twice divorced and no one to depend on except for her children. She is on Hospice Care and is having to make "End of Life" decisions. Her mobile home no longer has functioning air condiitoning and she can't afford to replace it. She lives in Phoenix. The heat exacerbates her breathing condition so she is being pressed to consider moving to Assisted Living or a Group Home. This has gripped my heart with untold sadness and frustration. I am sending her my old Kindle, fully loaded with Fantasy books, and bought her a Netbook in hopes that she can complete her unfinished novels, her legacy to this life and this world, to outlive her physical presence. I'm really pissed off for her. THIS IS WRONG AND NOT FAIR!! She is not finished! She has so much to give, so much to share!!!
And my friend in D.C. I lived her life for a mere 6 days. I washed and folded 12 loads of laundry. I helped her move and clear stuff out of the garage so her husband (soon to be ex) could sort through and remove his belongings. Surly, demanding, intimidating son-of-a-bitch. I went with her to the Day Care of which she is a Director. Although she has an Assistant Director, her enrollment is such that the AD is supposed to spend at least 1/2 her time in the classroom. My friend's time is spent answering the phones, dealing with parents, doing billing through the computer, dealing with licensing, staffing, trouble-shooting, continuing education for herself and staff as well as setting up and updating the school's website, and promoting the school. If any staff, including the cook call in sick, she covers. Additionally she has to make sure child/staff ratio is maintained without going over her allotted staff hours. I spent my time, helping organize piles, updating the computer on parent tours given and the outcome of those tours, answering the phone, organizing staff applications, holding crying babies, trying to instruct inadequate staff on strategies for handling challenging combative behaviors of 3 year olds, cleaning up urine (using specific state mandated as well as corporate guidelines. The day care closes at 7 p.m., she has to make sure all doors and windows are closed and locked, and then she must do her revenue reports, and other obscure reports that are unknown to me.
So we arrived at home where her 16 y.o. son, on Spring Break, had salvaged all the parts to a mountain bike from the dump. He has ADHD and many plans. He had spoken to his mother previously and wanted to go to Wal-Mart and buy paint and sandpaper, etc. to reclaim the bicycle. It was 9 O'Clock. We were exhausted. We had not eaten. There were 12 deer in her back yard. We watched in fascination as she threw them carrots and apples, which the braver ones worked their way up to and quickly devoured. My friend has no money, despite her hard efforts at her job. Her husband, who makes 3 times her salary, has never paid the monthly bills that were verbally agreed on, has not yet signed the Property Settled Agreement, and has not passed on her share of his military retirement that she is entitled to after their 20 years of marriage during his 20 years of service to the military. She will not receive it directly from the government until the agreement is signed. In paperwork that I helped her fill out to qualify for short selling of their house, she is operating at a $800/month deficit, this is without designations to entertainment or clothing. His budget includes this and he still has a surplus of $1000/month and this doesn't even include his or her share of the retirement which he is withholding from her. I had offered to fund her son's bicycle reclamation. When her son started asking for his mother to take him right now to Wal-Mart, I told him that she did not have the money, and I would be funding the purchases but he would have to wait until the week-end. He clammed up and sulked for the remainder of the evening, watching television in another room, refusing to answer his mother's questions about his day, and not talking to either one of us till 3 hours later, after his mother had gone to bed.
We attended two meetings regarding her 16 year olds 10 school suspensions. Exhausting, depressing, time-consuming. Discussion later.
In addition to working on the laundry at home, I sorted through a backlog of mail, sorting and throwing out junk mail, clipping coupons. We went to Staples where we purchased a variety of organizers for filing her divorce papers, bills, personal and work papers. Complete sorting and filing was stymied by her husband commandeering my last evening with her to remove personal items from the home, hunting gear, dishes and memorabilia. He demanded that she allow a stranger into her home, inferring that without this person's presence, he did not trust her to not act the crazy person. As was likely his intent, she was intimidated by this request to allow a strange male into her home. Her husband responded to her initial refusal with threats to contact his Judge Advocate General and let her know that my friend was refusing to cooperate, and he would see her in court. We discussed this off the phone and decided that this was best done with my presence. She and I could stand there and watch her husband and his friend cart off his possessions and make sure nothing of hers was taken.
Her husband arrived 45 minutes late at 8:15 p.m. on a work night. I must add a caveat. This whole deal had been set up for the previous Sunday at 2 p.m. He somehow manipulated it so that I would have an outing with the two boys. He would bring them over when he came for his belongings, and we assumed that we would go out with the boys after the sorting. He brought the boys and dropped them off. I was duped and manipulated as deftly as his wife. Therefore the new arrangement for the weeknight. He was curt and directive. "Turn on the lights." "Where's this, where's that?" No please, no thank you. His henchman turned out to be someone that my friend had met once previously and was very nice, engaging in polite, even friendly conversation. We watched as her husband hauled hundreds of dollars worth of hunting gear out of storage. She confided out of earshot of her husband that most of the gear had been gifts from her. Her son became extremely distressed as he watched all the hunting gear leave the house. Hunting gear that belonged to him, the son, was still being held in his father's custody dependent upon his good behavior, and performance at school. It had been in his father's custody for more than a year now with no release date in sight, no specific milestones of performance agreed upon or cited. His father ignored his son's presence, no conversation, only one demand to know where his ice house was (at a friend's). His son's distress was palpable and taken out on myself and his mother, as his father was an unsafe target.
I watched in distress as her husband plowed through wedding platters and commemorative glassware. I was in awe at her stoicism, and generosity, challenging him only once when she noted that she was at the same honor dinners and deserving of some of the glassware. My heart tore. She asked him if he wanted to go through the kitchen dishes, to which he replied, "Some other time." My mind reeled with scenarios of more arrangements made and broken, more intimidation, who would stand with her and witness and refuse to let him intimidate her with his presence? Using his presence as a threat at the drop of a hat, intimating that she was being "uncooperative." My "bitch switch" flipped. "Do it fucking now!" I screamed right in his face. (This is NOT me, I do not scream, I do not usually use the F-bomb.) My friend later said, she watched the muscles in his neck tighten as I faced off with him. He replied, "Kismet, I've been trying to arrange this since February." My friend said later that this was probably true, but what he didn't say was it was usually at his convenience, trying to arrange for the very next day despite whatever plans she had already made.
They discussed personal items from the bedrooms and discussed jewelry, and then, miraculously, her husband acceded to going through the kitchen ware. Perhaps the bitch persuaded him, I know not. I do know that his presence was exhausting and intimidating. I could tell when he was getting ready to try and verbally intimidate her and would move myself in between her and him, breaking his visual stare down with her. This seemed to work well, and prompted more neck tightening.
So, we survived, my friend and I. But between her (ex-)husband, her demanding sons, her exhausting job of the never-ending hours, and no money to pay bills, I do not know how she survives from day to day. Any one of those circumstances would have been it for me, much less all together.
I collapsed upon my return to Montana. She has no "opt-out" button. She must deal with all of these situations. She must deal with her husband even after the divorce is finalized, at least until her youngest son is 18.
My foray into the lives of others was challenging. I'm sure that my physical condition makes me less tolerant. But I think that perhaps my friend needs her own "bitch switch". Raised by an abusive father, groomed by an abusive husband, taken advantage of by two sons who were raised to be yelled at and to yell back, especially at their mother with no correction. And fed stories with questionable veracity by their father regarding finances and their mother's behavior....my mind boggles. All I can offer, is re-education, books, words of love and hope, this little physical presence so small in the face of so much need. But she is learning. About her true self. About her own strength, about unconditional love, about standing up for what is right and true. But so hard to go against 41 years of conditioning, of love contingent upon agreeing with angry voices, of being accused of and made to take the responsibility for being the "controlling" one. Truth is a small, quiet voice, that needs others to join with it to be heard over loud, manipulative voices. But truth is persistant, and like the mustard seed, begins small, but once germination begins, the roots go deep and cannot be dug up.
So we arrived at home where her 16 y.o. son, on Spring Break, had salvaged all the parts to a mountain bike from the dump. He has ADHD and many plans. He had spoken to his mother previously and wanted to go to Wal-Mart and buy paint and sandpaper, etc. to reclaim the bicycle. It was 9 O'Clock. We were exhausted. We had not eaten. There were 12 deer in her back yard. We watched in fascination as she threw them carrots and apples, which the braver ones worked their way up to and quickly devoured. My friend has no money, despite her hard efforts at her job. Her husband, who makes 3 times her salary, has never paid the monthly bills that were verbally agreed on, has not yet signed the Property Settled Agreement, and has not passed on her share of his military retirement that she is entitled to after their 20 years of marriage during his 20 years of service to the military. She will not receive it directly from the government until the agreement is signed. In paperwork that I helped her fill out to qualify for short selling of their house, she is operating at a $800/month deficit, this is without designations to entertainment or clothing. His budget includes this and he still has a surplus of $1000/month and this doesn't even include his or her share of the retirement which he is withholding from her. I had offered to fund her son's bicycle reclamation. When her son started asking for his mother to take him right now to Wal-Mart, I told him that she did not have the money, and I would be funding the purchases but he would have to wait until the week-end. He clammed up and sulked for the remainder of the evening, watching television in another room, refusing to answer his mother's questions about his day, and not talking to either one of us till 3 hours later, after his mother had gone to bed.
We attended two meetings regarding her 16 year olds 10 school suspensions. Exhausting, depressing, time-consuming. Discussion later.
In addition to working on the laundry at home, I sorted through a backlog of mail, sorting and throwing out junk mail, clipping coupons. We went to Staples where we purchased a variety of organizers for filing her divorce papers, bills, personal and work papers. Complete sorting and filing was stymied by her husband commandeering my last evening with her to remove personal items from the home, hunting gear, dishes and memorabilia. He demanded that she allow a stranger into her home, inferring that without this person's presence, he did not trust her to not act the crazy person. As was likely his intent, she was intimidated by this request to allow a strange male into her home. Her husband responded to her initial refusal with threats to contact his Judge Advocate General and let her know that my friend was refusing to cooperate, and he would see her in court. We discussed this off the phone and decided that this was best done with my presence. She and I could stand there and watch her husband and his friend cart off his possessions and make sure nothing of hers was taken.
Her husband arrived 45 minutes late at 8:15 p.m. on a work night. I must add a caveat. This whole deal had been set up for the previous Sunday at 2 p.m. He somehow manipulated it so that I would have an outing with the two boys. He would bring them over when he came for his belongings, and we assumed that we would go out with the boys after the sorting. He brought the boys and dropped them off. I was duped and manipulated as deftly as his wife. Therefore the new arrangement for the weeknight. He was curt and directive. "Turn on the lights." "Where's this, where's that?" No please, no thank you. His henchman turned out to be someone that my friend had met once previously and was very nice, engaging in polite, even friendly conversation. We watched as her husband hauled hundreds of dollars worth of hunting gear out of storage. She confided out of earshot of her husband that most of the gear had been gifts from her. Her son became extremely distressed as he watched all the hunting gear leave the house. Hunting gear that belonged to him, the son, was still being held in his father's custody dependent upon his good behavior, and performance at school. It had been in his father's custody for more than a year now with no release date in sight, no specific milestones of performance agreed upon or cited. His father ignored his son's presence, no conversation, only one demand to know where his ice house was (at a friend's). His son's distress was palpable and taken out on myself and his mother, as his father was an unsafe target.
I watched in distress as her husband plowed through wedding platters and commemorative glassware. I was in awe at her stoicism, and generosity, challenging him only once when she noted that she was at the same honor dinners and deserving of some of the glassware. My heart tore. She asked him if he wanted to go through the kitchen dishes, to which he replied, "Some other time." My mind reeled with scenarios of more arrangements made and broken, more intimidation, who would stand with her and witness and refuse to let him intimidate her with his presence? Using his presence as a threat at the drop of a hat, intimating that she was being "uncooperative." My "bitch switch" flipped. "Do it fucking now!" I screamed right in his face. (This is NOT me, I do not scream, I do not usually use the F-bomb.) My friend later said, she watched the muscles in his neck tighten as I faced off with him. He replied, "Kismet, I've been trying to arrange this since February." My friend said later that this was probably true, but what he didn't say was it was usually at his convenience, trying to arrange for the very next day despite whatever plans she had already made.
They discussed personal items from the bedrooms and discussed jewelry, and then, miraculously, her husband acceded to going through the kitchen ware. Perhaps the bitch persuaded him, I know not. I do know that his presence was exhausting and intimidating. I could tell when he was getting ready to try and verbally intimidate her and would move myself in between her and him, breaking his visual stare down with her. This seemed to work well, and prompted more neck tightening.
So, we survived, my friend and I. But between her (ex-)husband, her demanding sons, her exhausting job of the never-ending hours, and no money to pay bills, I do not know how she survives from day to day. Any one of those circumstances would have been it for me, much less all together.
I collapsed upon my return to Montana. She has no "opt-out" button. She must deal with all of these situations. She must deal with her husband even after the divorce is finalized, at least until her youngest son is 18.
My foray into the lives of others was challenging. I'm sure that my physical condition makes me less tolerant. But I think that perhaps my friend needs her own "bitch switch". Raised by an abusive father, groomed by an abusive husband, taken advantage of by two sons who were raised to be yelled at and to yell back, especially at their mother with no correction. And fed stories with questionable veracity by their father regarding finances and their mother's behavior....my mind boggles. All I can offer, is re-education, books, words of love and hope, this little physical presence so small in the face of so much need. But she is learning. About her true self. About her own strength, about unconditional love, about standing up for what is right and true. But so hard to go against 41 years of conditioning, of love contingent upon agreeing with angry voices, of being accused of and made to take the responsibility for being the "controlling" one. Truth is a small, quiet voice, that needs others to join with it to be heard over loud, manipulative voices. But truth is persistant, and like the mustard seed, begins small, but once germination begins, the roots go deep and cannot be dug up.
Oops. Thought I published this earlier. Didn't do the captcha. Duh!
ReplyDeleteYes! Kismet, you are really something special to be able to feel and articulate all of the above. I truly hope all of your loved ones and readers get this as well as this reader does. May I quote your last two sentences and post it on my Facebook wall with you as author of course?
Yes! I would be honored!
Delete