After

Hellish weekend at the folks. Hellish. Not since Christmas 1987 have I had a worse visit. Quite similar actually, except Sherry didn't hate me, just Mom this time. And of course I wasn't alone on the shit list, nobody escaped, lumped in there together with the likes of Dad . . . So, it'll be awhile before I go back. I remember I had planned to go home for March Break and then the entire summer in '88 but plans changed after that first Christmas vacation. I went to work instead, first the pet store then the ballet. I must've went home for a week or something in there somewhere, but visits were brief I remember and spent mostly partying with friends away from the homestead. It was a few years before I came for the whole summer, and then only because I needed a break from Kevin and thought days spent weeding the carrots in Grandad's garden would help clear my head. They did at first, but then I met David and lost my head completely.

But enough about ancient history, there's this new hellish visit to deal with . . . and just when I signed up for a long-distance plan so I could call her more often . . . if you live outside my calling area, expect calls.

My mother is mourning the loss of both her parents in the last year, within six months of each other. To say she is depressed would be a severe understatement. She is bitter, cold, distant, irrational, apathetic, completely self-absorbed, sad, unstable and more. If I allowed myself to get caught up in her funk I'd be super worried about her. I can't allow myself because there is nothing I can do to help her. No amount of begging or screaming will get her to snap out of it or seek help. So I can drive myself crazy with worry, guilt and frustration over my helplessness or I can step away from the situation and focus on my own life. Do you hear the beep, beep, beep of me backing away?

Yes, it's easier said than done but it's the only logical response. I've been in severe funks. I've had break-downs. Crazy--been there, done that. I understand what it's like to be unstable. Nobody pulled me out of it, I had to do it for myself. Whatever happens with my mother is up to her. I have no control, no power. And it makes no sense to spend any energy on something I can't control or influence. It's counterproductive and I won't do it.

I've always believed dealing with death would be easier if you were surrounded by other loved ones. A partner, kids, grandkids, siblings, etc. And I've thought about how I will handle my parents death on my own with just sibling support. With no shoulder to cry on and no kids to hug. I've wondered if I'll be strong enough or if I'll fall apart. I've wondered if my belief in souls will stand up to the test. But if my mother's family is any indication, it all makes no difference. They've got HUGE extended families, kids, grandkids, each other, some pretty strong faith . . . and they've all gone to pieces. None of the living matters, only the dead, and maybe that's just the way it is, I don't know.

Mood: bouncing back
Drinking: coffee, coffee, and more coffee
Listening To: The Tragically Hip, Nautical Disaster
Hair: silky and smelling like gardenias