Hi All,
Today is Wednesday. I write this as I sit staring at my half cleaned house, my phone next to me awaiting a call back, and my cat asleep in the sunny but dusty sunroom. I think, I should not be writing and then I keep writing because I need to get some stuff out of my head and into the light--however dusty it is.
As I have written before I have been pretty strung out on trying to figure out how to begin to care for my Dad. I know many many people go thru this and worse and so I feel not alone in this process but also not completely connected. I find myself wanting to scream sometimes out at the universe about how life is unfair, about how the economy sucks, about how hard my Dad has worked and how sick it is that his house has lost value not gained it--as he had planned. I think about how hard it is for him to accept help and how conditioned he has been to believe that needing help makes him weak. I want to tell him that we all need help sometimes but I don't. My words get stuck in my throat.
I look at him. So sad. So depressed. So seemingly hopeless. I want to cry for him and for me. For his suffering. For my suffering. I want to cry for the dreamy, happy, simple life that he planned for and assumed was his birthright. I want to cry for the entitlement, insensitivity, and rigidness of his thinking. I want to cry for the mental illness that causes him so much shame and renders him incapable of being the person that I remember as so capable--as so strong. I want to cry, but I dont.
I make phone calls. I try to look at the bright side. I sometimes do actually look at the bright side. I see physical health. I see life and family and love. I see abundance that is not financial. I think about how what we see determines everything. I think more about what I choose to see and what I leave out.
I go to meetings. I sit and listen to sober people getting thru it. I think of us all trudging along. Trying. I think how we are all on plan B at some point and what that means for each of us. I think none of us really planned for this--whatever it is. This life--the surprises (good and not so good), the pain, the joy in unexpected places, the love in unexpected places. I try.
I come home at night tired, hopeful, confused, determined--wondering how will this turn out? My Mom told me that the other day my Dad said this to her...that he was confused about where he would be? About how he would be? It made me a little sad, until I realized maybe we're all a little confused about that. We need faith, family, friends, and love. We need to remind each other that we are all in this together...a little uncertain, a little scared, but not alone. xxK
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