|
Users viewing this topic:
none
|
|
Login  | |
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/10/2009 11:34:45 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
If I am to remain true to the reasons I started this blog, I need to deal with the last couple of days.
My mother is a sweet lady, she loves the Lord and has been a big encouragement to me these past five years. We've had wonderful conversations during this time, but sadly, we can't seem to have them face to face. We love each other, but we are oil and water, always have been.
My mother has always worked very hard making her house a home. She has the energy of ten people She either has ADD or she is the Energizer Bunny who lives on a steady diet of high power batteries.  She has always had a unique way of doing things which doesn't lend itself to working WITH anyone and anyone who tries is soon at a loss as to what to do or what is going on.
When I first got married, she wanted to help, especially because I was so sick throughout my first pregnancy. She would come over to our little suite and do her thing. I was too busy hanging over the porcelain bowl to be of much help. DH worked on weekends then. Inevitably he would come home and soon say "Has your mother been here? I can't find anything?" And it's been that way ever since.
She does five things at once and skips back and forth with no apparent pattern or reason. She accomplishes much, but the process is a mystery. When the kids were small she would come to spend the day. She first has to make a bigger mess than existed and then she does her thing. I was always left to feel like a stranger in my own home, muttering to myself that "she just wants to help." My input was neither requested nor paid attention to. It was like talking to a brick wall. Everything I suggested was "no, no, I'll do it." On most occasions she managed to accomplish what she had set out to do. The end result was usually pleasing enough, but it required numerous phone calls to ask where things now were. Unfortunately, she often couldn't remember. This was true in her own home. She would find a place for something (often a most unusual place) and then could not remember where she had put it. Somehow this worked for her, but was not so good when done somewhere else.
The worst occasion occurred one day many years ago. Dad dropped Mom off and was expected not to return for you until close to supper time. So off she went, doing her thing, while I tried to help but just ended up getting in the way. Unfortunately Dad came back early and she was NOT finished. So I was left with all these half done things with no idea what the whole point was. That pretty much took the cake. I cried with frustration. I finally called her and said this just wasn't working. If I couldn't have any say about what she was doing in my house, then she would no longer be able to "help."
Another evening, she was babysitting for me while DH and I went out for the evening. We came home to find all the kitchen cupboards re-organized with notes taped telling us what was where. That one at least I could laugh at and of course, over time, everything ended up where it was most convenient for ME and not for HER.
After I went back to work, in numerous telephone conversations, it soon became apparent that she though the appropriate way for me to handle my life was to get up at five every morning and then clean until midnight every day. Working yourself to death was always the right thing to do (please note - the sarcasm is loud here). There were times a little bit of help was nice, but I had to make rules (which were followed or not depending on her mood) of what she could and could not do. The kids were in school and I was at work so I thought maybe this would work better. At least I didn't have to stand around looking and feeling like an incompetent idiot in my own home. This worked out somewhat better although the followup requests for directions to certain items continued.
What finally took the cake was her putting away some of DD's homework which had to be submitted the following day. My parents left the next day on a trip and couldn't be contacted. Poor DD was in a proper tither and I could not blame her. Her explanation to the teacher was viewed somewhat dimly, but the item was found a few days later and the crisis passed. At this point the kids joined the "don't touch my stuff" brigade and upon there return I had to make it clear to her. While I loved her and her grandchildren loved her, we would no longer be putting up with this.
The only times she could be in my house without getting into things was when I invited them over for Sunday dinner. You couldn't work on Sunday. It wasn't right. This was good. I liked having them over for dinner, they enjoyed the meal and things were hunky dory.
In the normal course, my mother and I spoke once or twice a week at most. This was our normal pattern and it worked for us. Then my dad had two strokes within a six month period. I pretty much recovered after the first stroke although there were residual effects, but the second stroke was exactly at the same spot on the brain. He could no longer speak itelligibly not could he understand what was spoken to him (this improved somewhat, but it was kind of hit and miss). My mother's secure world fell apart. He spent a few weeks at the hospital, then about a month in a long term hospital where he received therapy. Then a decision had to be made as to where he would go next. My mother was afraid to have him at home, but also afraid not to have him at home (very understandably). He ended up being placed in an extended care facility; perhaps lodge would be a better description. He wasn't happy about being there, but he seemed to adjust fairly quickly. He took many walks every day (he always seemed to have no problem knowing where he was; he never got lost) and that seemed to keep him occupied.
We were told at a number of meeting with doctors and caregivers that for someone in his condition, it was like landing in China, not able to understand anyone or able to communicate with them. We were also advised that most patients with his disability often took out their frustrations on the one closest to them so it was often better if there not returned to the home. It was also likely that he would suffer future strokes and there was a strong possibility of kidney failure.
All of this was overwhelming to my mother so she consented to him being placed in the lodge. She felt it necessary to visit him almost every day. She would take the bus (quite a time consuming trip) five or six days a week. We kept telling her that two or three times a week was surely sufficient as she was just going to wear herself out. But no, she had to do it her way. My mother is a very friendly person and she made many friends while visiting dad (which made my father angry). Dad would often hand her her purse, take her by the arm, walk her to the bus stop and wait until she got on the bus. He would often get upset with her and the visits were hard on her.
Mom had never lived alone and it was very hard for her. She started wanting to have Dad come home for visits. DD and I brought him for the first visit and things did NOT go very well. He was very unsettled and confused. He was constantly yelling at mom, but of course we couldn't understand him. He finally settled down enough to have supper and we drove him back. He seemed very tired and relieved to be back at the lodge. I tried to reassure Mom that he was settling in there and it was best to leave him there as he seemed to stay calmer there. This wasn't what she wanted to hear so she started asking friends to bring him home for visits. Eventually she wanted him to stay overnight. Sometimes his behavior was such that the friends would have to stay overnight because they didn't feel that Mom should be alone with him.
Mom and discussed these visits and I warned her that if she kept him overnight, he would soon refuse to go back. He knew enough to know he was in his own bed. Why wouldn't he want to stay?
Finally one day after friends drove Mom and Dad back to the lodge, Dad ran away when they got there. He ran across a busy road and was hiding behind some cars. Mother took this to mean that they were maltreating him at the lodge and therefore she had to take him home. I have no idea what she came to this conclusion. While Dad was much slower moving, he was still very strong. If he grabbed you by the arm or hit your shoulder in a supposedly friendly gesture, you definitely felt it. If anything, he was liable to have less control over his strength and this was a troubling prospect.
From the time of the first stroke, I was Mom's emotional and mental support. There is something humerous in that because during the next fourteen years of his life, I was the one who had three breakdowns, not Mom. In some ways I felt that this was the only way I could help. I didn't have a car, worked long hours and was just not capable of spending much time with them. And most of the time I was glad to do it. As frustrating as it was sometimes, I knew she would need someone to unburden on. The difficulty in a way was that Dad didn't LOOK like there was anything wrong with him. He could still say "Yup" (yes), and "good" and since he was never a great conversationalist, people would meet him on his walks and say "Hi, how are you _____________?" And he would smile and say "good" and everybody thought there was nothing wrong with him. Not knowing how difficult it was at home, they had a hard time being very sympathetic to my mother. They knew it was her decision to bring him home so assumed she realized what she was doing. This caused her a lot of grief. So she needed someone to tell things to and I was that someone.
Dad had never listened to anybody in his whole adult life. He was the boss. Unfortunately this part of his personality was as strong as ever, perhaps even worse, due to the strokes. When you have little control over your life, you take what you can get. And since Dad had always ruled the roost, he expected Mom to know what he wanted and do what he wanted. For instance, he would go to cut the lawn, but would put oil where the gas should go and gas where the oil should go and Mom was just waiting for everything to blow up. Then he would try to fix something, but instead of using a screwdriver, he would use a spoon and of course become very irritated. One fall and winter he kept playing around with the furnace and Mom had to continually have someone come and fix it. He actually climbed on the roof one day to shovel snow off it. Of course if Mom tried intervening in any way, he just got mad. So I would get these frantic phone calls but what could I do. I could never have gotten there fast enough to do any good so I joined the "stomach in knots" brigade with my Mom.
During this time my Mother was diagnosed with cancer. My brother and his wife offered to take Mom and Dad into their home, at least while she was having treatment. Dad would then be taken care of. This was a very generous offer and I really appreciated it. Of course this meant Mom and Dad moving a couple of hundred miles away and just getting ready for this was terrible. My mother was in such a tizzy that it was next to impossible to deal with her (and she had every reason to be upset). DD and I went over to help her pack. DD is a very logical reasonable person. She packed like things with like things and labeled boxes. This seemed like a reasonable thing to do. The next day she went back to help some more. Mom had repacked everything. If there was two ounces of air in a box, she had to stuff something in it. Didn't matter if it made sense to put it there or not. Poor DD was somewhat hurt and discouraged but she hung in there. In the meantime Dad knew something was up and of course was on his worst behavior. It got so bad he was throwing things at Mom - picture frames, whatever he could get his hands on. I was afraid if the cancer didn't get her, he would. My SIL is a senior geriatric nurse, so when they came up to do the move, she gave Dad some stuff to calm him down. And away they went.
Mom got through the treatment very well. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, the living arrangements were difficult. Stress was extremely high. But no changed could be made until the end of treatment. It was a very long five months. During all this time, I was still "the ear" except now I was the ear for everbody. It's really hard to mediate a situation two hundred miles away. By the end of this there was so much bad feeling I doubted the family could recover.
While Mom has won the cancer fight to date with great attention to her diet and supplements, she has had other health issues. Severe back and hip pain at times, carpel tunnel surgery, etc. But through it all, she continued to care for Dad at home until about two years ago. We tried getting her help, but no one was ever good enough. She was quite rude and miserable to the point that I doubt that anyone would have been willing to help her. She would ride them mercifully, dogging their every step. We all tried reasoning with her, but to no avail.
Finally she had had enough. Dad was losing control of his bodily functions, wouldn't wear diapers. Over the years he had shook her many times and hit her sometimes. So we had Dad admitted to the hospital and finally he was placed in a nursing home, too far for Mom to see him very often. He was often unruly. Things didn't go well. They would tie him in a wheelchair, but he would still manage to get out. Then he would try to leave the building. Finally he fell and broke his hip. He had surgery and went back to the nursing home. After that he had to stay in his wheelchair. A few months after that he caught pneumonia and landed back in the hospital. We thought we would lose him then, but he pulled through. But even with a broken hip, even very sick with pneumonia, he would fight with his caregivers. Definitely a toughie.
In the meantime, we had finally, after much discussion, got Mom to agree to move into a senior apartment. This was in a large complex that also had a nursing home. We let her take her time dismantling her home. It's a very tough thing for anyone to do. Finally she was settled in and quite at home there. Over time an opening came available in the nursing home and Dad was moved there. At least Mom could visit him whenever she wanted. Again, she overdid things. She insisted going to feed him three times a day. I won't go into a rant about the terrible conditions in these places, but needless to say they are so shortstaffed that patients who can't feed themselves end up being fed cold food in a rushed manner. It's very sad. Finally this became too much for her and she cut it back to twice a day. Even bed bound, Dad was still pending the fingers of attendants and making himself not very popular. He was slowing fading away and this January he finally died. It had been a very long trying time for both of them.
I will also admire my mother for her compassion. She alway excused his behavior with "he can't help it." I doubt if I could have done the same.
Mom has done very well since Dad died. I think she knew she had done all she could. She was with him when he died and somehow that gave her great comfort. She's keeping busy with services in the chapel, hymn sings, bible study, tea time with friends and as usual she is always running around her apartment finding things to do. The daily calls continue as they have become a part of our lives. As I said, since I rededicated my life to Christ, my Mom and I have had quite a good relationship, many wonderful conversations. However, we don't see each other much as my health problems keep me pretty much housebound and she doesn't care to go out too much either.
So.......I'd been thinking that perhaps she and I could spend a couple of days together and just enjoy each other's company. I had been saving some beautiful e-mails from people, many of them Biblical, many having beautiful pictures attached and knew that Mom would love to see some of them. And we both love old hymns. I figured we could do some singing, play the piano and just have a good time. DD kindly agreed to do all the driving around. So Mom came over on Wednesday evening. This was the first time I had actually seen her since the funeral. DD stayed to visit for a while, then Mom and I were alone.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/11/2009 12:03:48 AM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
There wasn't that much of the evening left. Mom had brought a video about Freemasonry and wanted to watch that first. So we did. No problem. Then we made our way upstairs to the computer and spend a very enjoyable hour looking at e-mails. She was getting tired so got ready for bed. I live in a small house and her room was just above me as I sat in the kitchen reading. Of course I could here every footprint and it seemed like she was taking forever to get settled into bed. A half an hour went by and she was still wandering around. I asked if everything was all right. She said yes so I went back to reading. It took another half hour before he finally settled in. So far so good.
Next morning she got up before I did (I'm a night owl). I knew she would start futtsing with stuff, but figured she couldn't get into too much trouble since I knew I could sleep too late with her wandering around. So I finally got up and she's all over the place. Running her, running there, rearranging here, rearranging there. Finally I ask her to sit down. She puts me off a little then comes in with all these brown envelopes. They are filled with information she has obtained from the Christian Research Institute and various other places and she wants me to look at all this stuff. So I do. Some of it is interesting. Most of it is twenty years old and we have talked about it before. Knowing it will please her I pick something to read later. Sitting in that chair talking to me seems to be killing her. I can tell she can't wait to get up and keep rearranging my house. I finally sit her down and say "Mom, how would you feel if I did this at your house?" She says "Well, you don't need to. Everything there is where it should be." I try to explain that things are where they should be for MY convenience because it is MY house, just as HER apartment, is HER home. "I'm only doing what needs to be done," she says. "Who needs it to be done?" I ask. I try to reiterate what I told her before she came. I wanted us to spend time TOGETHER, just two people enjoying each other. I finally ask her what it is she wants to do. She wants to wash my bathroom and kitchen curtains in the bathtub. I say why? I can do them in the washing machine. I always do. Nothing seems to get through. I totally kybosh the curtains thing. It's ridiculous. By this time most of the afternoon is gone, so she finally agrees to go back to the computer for a while. She goes up ahead of me and as soon as I enter the room, she says "I put what was here there and what was there here and......" No wonder she was up for an hour last night. We spend a little time at the computer, then it's time to make supper. Managed to talk her into singing some hymns and playing on the piano until DD comes to pick her up.
I know this is probably selfish. My Mother is who she is. But by the time she leaves I am so hurt that she can't seem to spend time with ME. Everything has to be what she wants to do and it has to be done her way. Why should this surprise me. As I walk around the house, putting things back where I need them to be, I cry buckets. Never have we gone shopping just for the fun of it. Never have we gone for lunch, just the two of us. Why should I think it would ever change.
I went to another site this evening that I visit quite often. Another lady was having problems with her mother. She was given good advice that I need to take as well. I need to forgive her and myself. I need to ask God's forgiveness for not being more loving and understanding of an old lady who has only ever seen things in one dimension. I guess that's her protective mechanism. I know she worries about me. My health is worse than hers. And yes, she does want to help. But the cry of my heart is for her to know ME, just once, without making me feel like I'm incompetent. Well, she can't. God knows me and he loves me and that is more than enough. He will heal my hurt and help me to forgive and continue to love my mother and to quit beating myself up. Lord, hold me in Your loving arms, heal my hurt, forgive me for my selfishness, help me to forgive my mother and to love her as I should. In Jesus Name, I Pray. Amen.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/11/2009 11:00:00 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Boy oh boy! Did the Holy Spirit ever convict me today!  As usual, it was in the way that works best for me.
I'm reading "90 Minutes In Heaven" by Don Piper. I've only gotten about a third of the way through. His recovery was long and horrendous. One day a dear mentor of his, a retired pastor who was leading his church during his recovery came to visit. As he sat with him, numerous people dropped by to see him, offering to do whatever they could (i.e. get him a magazine, read to him for a while, etc.). To each one Piper said "No thank you." The following is from the book:
"Finally he walked over to the bed and got close to my face and said, "You really need to get your act together." "Sir?" I said like anyone would say respectfully to an eighty-year old preacher. "You need to get your act together," he repeated. "You're just not doing a very good job." "I don't understand....." "Besides that," he said and moved even closer so that I couldn't look away. "Besides that, you're a raging hypocrite." ......"These people care about you so much, and you just can't imagine how deeply they love you." "I know they love me." "Really? Well, you're not doing a very good job of letting them know you're aware. You're not treating them right. .....If you ask them to do anything - anything - they would do it without hesitating." "I know...." "But you won't let them do anything for you." "I don't want them to do anything." Without holding anything back, I said as loudly as I could. "The truth is I don't even want them to be here. I'd just as soon they didn't come. I know it's inconvenient. They must have better things to do. I know that - why would I want anybody to come and see me like this? It's just awful. I'm pathetic." "It's not your call." I stared back, shocked at his words. "You've spent the better part of your life trying to minister to other people to meet their needs, to help them during times of difficulty and tragedy and .......now you're doing a terrible job of letting those people do the same thing for you." I'll never forget the next sentence. "Don, it's the only thing they have to offer you, and you're taking that gift away from them." ....."You're not letting them minister to you. It's what they want to do. Why can't you understand that? ...... You're cheating them out of an opportunity to express their love to you." His words shocked me. In my thinking, I was trying to be selfless and not impose on them or cause them any trouble. Just then, his words penetrated my consciousness. In reality, I was being selfish. There was also an element of pride there ..... but pride wouldn't let me receive others' generosity."
Man, oh man. Did that hit home! I was taking away the only way my Mother knows how to love me. I'm her daughter. My health is worse than hers is. This is the only way she knows how to show she cares.
And yes, it's definitely a pride issue. I've spent the last 35+ years feeling like I was carry the world's burdens on my shoulders. And in a limited sense, I was. I had the responsibility of supporting and raising my family; there really was no other choice. After years of having to make all the decisions, you develop pride in your seeming ability to keep it together (in the end I did a lousy job and made a mess of it anyway). But no matter how it looks, I did keep it together long enough to get my children on their feet. And that sense of self-sufficiency became another defense mechanism. In my mind I was thinking "you can't trust anybody anyway so I'm only going to depend on myself."
I've always known it's much easier to give then to receive. When you're the giver, you're still in control. Receiving is another story.
I've been praying for God's forgiveness; for the strength to forgive my mother and myself, for the strength to love my mother just as she is. Now I need to add prayers for helping me to lay down my pride and selfishness.
I've known I've had problems with receiving for quite some time. I've been able, with God's help, to receive help for gracefully from some people, but no doubt, there is a lot of work ahead.
Even as I write this stuff today, I can't help but still feel the pain that the only way I want my mother to love and affirm me is one that she can't give. And that the only way she knows how to show her love is the one that makes me feel incompetent, that makes me feel like an idiot and a stranger in my own home. And that after a dose of her love, I have to go around my house and again make it my home.
I suppose that doesn't sound very forgiving, does it? I know I need God's strength to lay this down every day until it stays down. Spiritually, I know what I have to do and how much I need God's help to do it.
On the other hand, I've read the book "Boundaries" by Cloud/Townsend and I know that this is an area that I should have set boundaries long ago. I believe that godly boundaries are important and that as Christians, we have real problems setting them.
I have to give my dad credit for putting up with mom's Energizer Bunny traits; he generally ignored her and let her do her thing. But mom has the persistence of a rabid bee ; she keeps at it until she gets what she wants or accomplishes what she sets out to do. As I often tease her, she just didn't come with an "off" button. She was born with her motor set on "high" and it's been there ever since. May I should have just tied her into a chair, the way I've been threatening to do for years ; at least then I would have had a captive audience.
Oh how strange and perverse we humans are! Very interesting to watch but definitely not easy to get along with.
I thank you, Lord, for convicting me today. I ask, in Jesus Name, that You will heal me and help me to be the person You want me to be. Your love is perfect and its the only love that really matters. Fill me with Your love and may others see You in me. Amen.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/15/2009 11:15:23 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
I've been in a real funk this last week. No doubt is teaching me new lessons, but sometimes I feel so "thick" because I don't seem to get the message very well.
But the Lord definitely does provide. Today had already been set for W (my spiritual advisor) to visit and while I knew I definitely needed it, a part of me wanted to avoid it. But He always works in His marvelous way. W called and said she could come early. I said of course, please do. This was definitely a "God thing" and I knew it. God has gifted her with real listening skills and the ability to see under the words. I'm so blessed and thank the Lord for bringing her into my life. I don't know that I'm able yet to articulate what I've been feeling, but I'm not going to worry about that.
I've also been watching DVD's from two Lisa Harper books/bible studies. Many of the questions have really struck home. One question today was (my paraphrase) "Do you sometimes feel that God is going to get weary of you?" Yes, I very often do feel that way. I suppose because I get weary of myself. Some things don't seem to change. It feels like I'm forever coming to God with the same problems, the same sins, over and over again. And then I get so ashamed I don't want to talk to him. And that is soooo NOT what he wants me to do.
Dear Lord, I am so grateful that You never get tired of me, that You never want to turn away from me, that Your arms are always open to me. No matter how many times I stumble and fall, You are there to pick me up. Like You told Your children in Malachi, You're not going anywhere. You will always be there. All praise, adoration, worship and blessing to You, my Lord and King. Amen.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/19/2009 11:21:51 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Another needed message today. I just started reading "How to Be Like Jesus" by Williams/Denney. He describes an interview Lee Strobel did with Charles Templeton back in 2001. Templeton was an evangelist at one time but became an ardent atheist. They were talking about Jesus:
"Moved by Templeton's change of tone, Strobel quietly said, 'You sound like you really care about him.' 'Well, yes," Templeton said. 'He's the most important thing in my life. I...I... adore him...Everything good I know, everything decent I know, everything pure I know, I learned from Jesus.' And then, Templeton's voice began to waver. 'I...miss...him!" he said. With that he began to cry...."
When I read the words "I...miss...him!" it felt like Jesus had grabbed my heart and I began to cry very hard. I realized how often I shove Jesus to the back of my mind, to the back of my heart; not intentionally, but I do. He needs to always be at the forefront of my mind, my heart, my soul. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus;" I just prayerfully kept repeating His name, asking His forgiveness for not keeping Him always at the front of everything. How easily we can move away from Who is and must be at the centre of our lives.
Thank You, Jesus, for Your loving reminder that You are always with me. Forgive me for losing sight of You. I thank You for Your unfailing love and compassion, for being with me, for loving me so much that when I stray, You tenderly grab my heart and draw me closer to You. Thank You that You never leave me alone in the wilderness, that You are always leading, always looking after me, teaching me what I need to know, reminding me again and again that I am Yours. You are so precious to me and I need You so much. In Your name, Jesus, I pray. Amen.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/23/2009 11:16:25 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Just did a post here that ended up flying off inter cyperspace. Glad it wasn't a long one. My service provider is sending me a new modem as I've been having problem the last few weeks. Another good reason to wait before posting anything of length. Grrrr.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/24/2009 11:48:50 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
These words from an old hymn touched my heart last night:
I Must Tell Jesus
I must tell Jesus
All of my trials
I cannot bear
these burdens alone.
In my distress
He kindly will help me.
He ever loves and
cares for His own.
Chorus
I must tell Jesus!
I must tell Jesus!
I cannot bear
my burdens alone.
I must tell Jesus!
I must tell Jesus!
Jesus can help me,
Jesus alone.
I must tell Jesus
all of my troubles.
He is a kind,
compassionate friend.
If I but ask Him,
He will deliver,
Make of my troubles
quickly an end.
Chorus
O how the world
to evil allures me.
O how my heart
is tempted to sin.
I must tell Jesus,
and He will help me,
Over the world
the victory to win.
Chorus
Jesus, thank you for being my compassionate friend, for being there to listen to my trials and my troubles, for being there to help me have victory over the temptations of the world. Thank you for always being with me through all the trials and troubles of this world. Amen.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/26/2009 11:03:39 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
I was studying today about Jesus as Example. How wretched I am! I am so far from following Jesus example. I get so discouraged; feel so hopeless. Every time I turn around, I’m falling flat on my face. Don’t I ever learn anything? Yet Jesus never gives up on me; every time I fall, He picks me up. It’s not all up to me; I’m His. He will look after me; He will keep working on me and will always love me.
A short time later, I picked up the book I’m reading – “How to Be Like Jesus” by Williams/Denney. I’m almost finished the book. The first page I read contained the following (speaking of the apostle Thomas):
“Perhaps the problem Thomas struggled with was no so much doubt as it was pessimism. He was, after all, the melancholy cynic of the group. … I suspect that Thomas was chosen as a disciple precisely because Jesus needed a pessimist in the group – a cynic, a prophet of doom. Jesus probably looked at Thomas and said, ‘If I can make a believer out of this fellow, I can make a believer out of anyone! If people see that a wet blanket like Thomas can be transformed into a fired-up apostle for the kingdom, then they will be convinced that my kingdom is for real.’”
I so often get down on myself because that is what I am – a melancholy cynic, a pessimist, especially about myself. Yet if Jesus chose Thomas, he can also use me. I need to remember that. And then to top off the day, I received an e-mail with a video from youtube – http://www.youtube.com/watch?u2UXut0HxncvY – again just what I needed. Thank you, Jesus.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 7/31/2009 11:14:03 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
This "funk" I'm in doesn't seem to want to pass, so I decided not to use it again as an excuse not to keep on with this.
So...continuing from post #23... Time passed at the first firm I was at. I was really enjoying the work, enjoying my studies from the long distance university and life was pretty good. My boss (K) was getting a little frustrating. The three partners of this firm weren't keen on letting someone else in on the partnership and he was anxious to get ahead. So we started planning either a move to another firm or starting up a new firm. In the end K and two other lawyers who worked in the same building decided to start their own partnership. It was an exciting time, looking at office space, making plans. It was also incredibly busy because the work kept on coming in, volume was getting higher. It some ways it was hard to leave the old firm because you do end up making friends. After a rough start, it had finally become a place where friends and memories were made and it was kind of sad.
Finally arrangements were made and the new firm started. While it was very exciting, it was also very stressful. I was doing both residential real estate and the foreclosures and it was always a case of trying to keep from drowning. There were periods where I would work for two months straight without a day off. The kids would often come to the office with me on the weekends or come up after school. We finally put them to work. Taught them to cloe files and they did photocopying for me. Talked the partners into paying them a dollar an hour so at least they had something to look forward to. Within a year, we were expanding and taking more space. It was a heady time.
It was during this time that I made a lifelong friend. S and her husband and little girl had moved out west from Ontario as the economy out west was better at the time. Things hadn't worked out all that well. Her husband had been hurt on the job and was collecting workers compensation. She was hired to do bookkeeping/accounting for the firm and we became close friends. S became pregnant with her second child, so she definitely had a full load to carry. Sometimes you meet someone who you have an instant connection with; perhaps it was because we both have a rather warped sense of humor. It was hard for them here; no family, not many friends. I won't get into the whole story but I almost ended up delivering her second baby who was born one day before my birthday. Somehow that little girl felt like she was my own.
Sadly, a couple of days after the baby was born, S was left alone with two children. I invited her and the children to move in with me and she did. She continued working at the office and stayed with me for six months. My teenage daughter and her friends were good with the kids and it was a pleasure to have a little baby around. But it was just too hard to be so far from all that was familiar so S finally took the kids home back east. I thought my heart would break as I held that baby on that final day. Needless to say my phone bill was pretty high for months after that. To this day S is one of my dearest friends. Even though thousands of miles separate us, we have always been able to just pick up where we left off and continue with our friendship. I've managed to go out to visit her three or four times over the years and we still speak on the phone frequently.
Summers were difficult with my kids out of school. I tried various ways of keeping up with work and still managing to spend more time with them during the summer. I would often go in to work at 4:30 or 5:00 AM and leave early so the kids and I could do things. I thank the Lord that he got us through those years. The kids were really good, very responsible and since most of their friends were still in the immediate neighborhood, I didn't have to worry about them much. I was fortunate that K allowed me to adjust my schedule as needed. My ex was also good with the kids so we managed.
After a few years of this, the stress finally got to me and I knew I had to make a change. I needed time off, but of course couldn't really afford to take a few months off. The firm agreed that for a period of six months I would work from 4:00 PM to midnight. I got alot of work done in the evening as the phones weren't ringing and driving me crazy, so it was a much more relaxed atmosphere.
But work stress wasn't the whole story. I had developed a crush on my boss. How classiclly stupid!  I went back for counseling, which helped. I knew that nothing would come of it, but you can't always control how you feel. K and I had become good friends over the years. I know some people would say that was stupid, but it really wasn't. He was married, but his marriage was falling apart. There was never anything inappropriate between us. I ended up telling him how I felt. It was really very freeing. I won't say it was easy, because it wasn't, but I'm glad that we remained good friends. I seem to be good at remaining friends with the men I have loved. Actually I think it's a good thing, though few people seem to understand it.
I went back to working days again. They must have missed me, because I received a rather amazing raise when I came back. Not that I didn't deserve it, but usually you have to fight for it. In an effort to ease the work load, the firm hired people to come in evenings to do overload work. I don't know why lawyers often hate using a dictating machine. But a lot of them avoid it like the plague. So I would do the dictation and keep the overload workers busy. It was probably for the best as K wasn't great at it and because I had been on the receiving end, I knew what someone unfamiliar with the files needed and gave them exactly that. Besides, it was a good skill for me to pick up.
Computers were just becoming common in offices back then. Depending on the size of the office, there might be anywhere from 2 to 6 of them. They would be classified a "department" and very paper intensive work was given to this department (for example, 60 page leases, 100 page agreements, etc.). K had been trying to talk me into taking training for a computer, but I had been stalling but finally I agreed. The course was great. I spent five days doing a tutorial. If you needed any help there were people around to help you and they supplied you with excellent reference material to keep after the course. So I became the ultimate paper pusher as foreclosures are very paper intensive. I actually enjoyed it. I got my own office with half a dozen file cabinets and away I went. I gave up the real estate files and stuck for foreclosures and we ended up with 200-300 at various times. We had a really good system going. I made up a one page summary form that together with a couple of attachments was all that K needed to go to court. The only thing that drove me crazy was that whenever I took a holiday, K would invariably miss the court dates and I would have to redo the work. I would always be on a slow burn two days after I was back from a holiday when I finally figured out what HADN'T been done  . I never could understand this kind of sloppiness, but K was a good boss in most other ways so I would have my little meltdown and work would get back to normal.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/1/2009 11:13:26 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Time passed but eventually things changed. The economy was doing one of its hiccups, work in some areas was falling off, the partners weren't getting along and some had personal problems. The handwriting seemed to be on the wall. It's hard in a smaller firm. In a large firm, the different areas of law are spread out so when one area is going through a slump, another area is doing well and so on.
My ex and I had separated ten years previously but neither of us had filed for divorce. We decided to have K do the divorce because it wouldn't cost much since neither of us was fighting for anything. It was just a matter of doing the paperwork and waiting for the appropriate time periods. G signed over his rights to the house to me and it was pretty much a done deal.
I told K that I was going to start putting out my resume, just to see what was out there. I didn't want to wait until the pink slips were given out. He was very supportive and I was grateful for that. This didn't come easy to me. I have never liked change very much. But I thought if I did this on my own terms I could afford to be picky and take my time before making a decision. I had done well, learned alot and was much more confident than I had been starting out, but I still found it hard to "sell" myself.
But things ended up happening very quickly despite what I had planned. I sent out a lot of resumes to law firms and a few employment agencies. Within a week, I got a call from one of the larger firms in town and I also received a call from one of the agencies. It turned out that they were both about the same job. I don't think the agency was too happy with me because I made an appointment on my own, but I had not told them I was using them exclusively. I had an appointment for 11:00 AM on Monday morning and before 9:00 AM the next day, I had the job. This was moving way tooooo fast for me. I sat in my office and burst into tears. Poor K walked in and wondered who had died!  "I've got another job!" I wailed. He laughed and congratulated me. I couldn't believe things had happened so quickly. I insisted on giving at least two weeks notice which was fine with the other firm. I truly can't remember, but I think I managed to have a few days of holiday in between because the whole thing was making me a nervous wreck. It was really hard to leave, but it had to be done. K and I kept in touch over the years and I had a number of chances to go back to working for him, but there are some things you can't really go back to.
It was quite interesting working for a larger firm. My new job was as a legal assistant to a senior partner. While most of my experience was with real property, R (my new boss) dealt with it on a much larger scale. So while I had many of the basics, there was lots of new things to learn. He wasn't particularly busy when I started, so I took it on myself to review all of his files, do whatever seemed to need doing and suggested closing a lot of old files. It was a good review for me as it gave me a better idea what I would be dealing with. I was back to using a typewriter again which was a bit strange. They had a couple of computers in their "department" and there were plans for the future to get everyone on computers, but that was still a couple of years down the road.
The atmosphere in a larger firm is a little more formal (which was disappointing), but not unpleasant. I quickly learned that bureaucratic manure grows in proportion to the size of the establishment and so do the size of the egos. That's probably an unfair generalization, but there is definitely a great deal of truth to it. Over the years I have met some truly wonderful people who happen to be lawyers, but I've also met an incredible number of the other sort as well. I have quite the philosophy of what the legal profession often does to those who practice it, but I suppose the same theories would probably apply to all businesses. While my experience may cover many years, it does not include employment in many difference places for which I am grateful.
This was a time of change in many areas of my life. By the time I had been at the new job for a year or two, my kids were through school and were working. They both still lived at home, but were paying for room and board. My rule was that they were welcome to stay at home for free if they were continuing their education, but if they were working, they had to contribute to the household. Believe me, I didn't make any money on the deal. It was really a nominal amount, but it was the principle of the thing that was important.
The teen years had their ups and downs. I'm sure that we always loved each other but there were definitely times we didn't like each other much. But I thank the Lord that it wasn't really bad. Frankly, I think it was pretty normal. I think I had a better grasp on what the teen years are like, what the pressures are on the ones going through it, than my parents had had. I feel that I understood the need to fall down on your face a time or two, learn from that experience and then pick yourself and go on. Sometimes it's painful to watch your children go through some of these things, but I doubt that they can be avoided entirely.
The first ten years at X (the new firm) were very busy and interesting. Within a couple of years we have moved to much larger offices and the firm kept growing. We finally all got on computers (with all the usual frustrations from a lack of proper training and the work piling up). There have been times when I have wondered why people have to go to school for seven years to end up so stupid. Common sense and management seem to be at opposite poles most of the time. I think most things just keep functioning out of habit because there is a definite dearth of common sense involved. For many years it was only the staff who worked on computers. Most of the lawyers didn't have them. It never ceased to amaze me that the people who DON'T use them are the ones who pick out what the users should be using. Don't get me wrong. I realize they are the ones paying for them. But when you consider the usual sales pitch presented to a bunch of non-users, it's not surprising that what is chosen is often not the best for the purpose. But of course no one with a degree likes to admit they have made a mistake so the users just have to live with it. Same with with photocopiers, and all sorts of other office equipment. It was always amusing to see the lawyers fighting with the photocopiers, then having to be baled out by a staff member. "Why doesn't this thing work properly?" "Good question. You picked it." And so goes the normal day to day stuff in the office. More of the saga on another day.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/2/2009 10:34:07 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
I had been at X four or five months when my ex-husband called late one afternoon to ask how the new job was going. I said it was going pretty well. The only thing that bugged me was that R had this tendency to find something that he wanted done just before the end of the day which made me always miss my bus, thus taking twice as long to get home. It turned out that R had overheard this part of the conversation so the next morning he apologized. I told him that since I was always in early, I could have what he wanted done ready for him before he got in the next morning. Whatever needed to be done wasn't going anywhere at the end of the day anyway since even if you sent a courier, chances were it would just sit at the receptionists desk until the following day. But I reiterated that I didn't mind working overtime, but if I was going to stay, I would just as soon put in a few hours and a little notice would be nice, realizing, however, that it was not always possible to plan these things.
R and I got along pretty well. Within a couple of years it was like I had been there forever. He would often say "You remember that file we did about ten years back" and I would have to remind him that I hadn't been there at the time. But since a lot of our files came back every few years for further financing, I soon learned a lot about his previous practice. After a while, I think I remembered his old files better than he did.
R's practice was mainly commercial lending (although we did some commercial sale and purchase files as well). I really enjoyed the paperwork. I loved opening new files and reviewing the commitment letters for possible trouble spots. After a while I pretty much handled the files by myself (always bringing them to R for review, of course). This varied from financing on apartment blocks, shopping centers, condominium complexes, sometimes cross collateralized with other properties. The challenge of complex files was always exciting for me and I really enjoyed the work. There was always something new to learn and I also enjoyed keeping precedents and finding special clauses for special situations, etc. I know it sounds dreadfully boring, but this was the creative part; being able to find precedents for new situations. I suppose I have a very high threshold for doing seemingly dry, boring work for long periods of time. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person. Perhaps Freud would have a field day with that. I also enjoyed doing opinion reports to our clients, again adapting and changing things as needed; the longer the better.
R's specialty was doing mammoth files that took months to complete involving huge sums of money and many different investor clients. While I worked on these files as well, usually when he had one of these going, it was up to me to keep the rest of the practice running as he was in a lot of meetings during that time. We balanced each other pretty well and overall it worked quite well.
My work-aholic and anal nature came into play as usual. I like to do the best quality work I can and don't mind taking the time to do so. Admittedly I put alot of pressure on myself, but I don't seem to know how to do things any other way. And I also know I would be bored to death if all I did all day was stay plugged in to a dictaphone. While it was necessary occasionally, I generally managed whatever needed to be done with just verbal instructions. One of my strengths, I believe, is that I know what I know and I also know what I don't know. I have no problem asking questions. It never ceases to amaze me when people don't like to ask questions. If you do not have all the information to do what you have been asked to do, how else will you get it? I may have pride issues in some areas, but that's not one of them.
Doing reports on R's mammoth files were major projects in themselves. Many of these reports ended up being seven to ten 4 inch volumes and I would often have to make three or four copies of it for the various investors. But I seemed to have the knack for finding what was important and putting it all together. It would often take months to finish a probject of that nature.
One Friday afternoon, we received news that a rush project was coming down the tubes. It was a 100 unit condominium project that was being sold to numerous investors down east. I was set to go to Toronto on the following Wednesday to be matron of honor at my friend S's wedding. So I spent Friday evening opening the hundred files. Saturday and Sunday I produced documents like never before. We had articling students photocopying steadily. We wore out our photocopiers and had to go another law firm to use theirs. We were still stabling documents together at 1:00 AM Monday morning. It was crazy, but I pulled it off and it felt good.
It was also very affirming that every lawyer in the firm would sign cheques for me with no questions. R was very generous in praising my abilities to his fellow lawyers. This was quite unique because they must be careful what they are signing because the size of these cheques can be pretty daunting. At first I would haul around my files, ready to answer any questions they might have (we always needed two signatures). But soon it was no longer necessary and that felt really good. I was not perfect by any means, but I was pretty good at catching my own mistakes before they went anywhere.
Doing the work was never a problem. What drove me crazy was management. It so often felt like management's sole function was to put obstacles in the staff's path instead of helping the flow of work to go smoother. Office politics drives me nuts. I know you can't avoid it, but sometimes it seems to be no more than shooting yourself in the foot. Unfortunately, the language used in the legal profession is better for obfuscating than for clarity. Trying to get a clear statement out of a lawyer can seem impossible at times and that includes getting clear instructions from them as well. You spend a lot of your time saying "Do you mean.....?" You feel like you spend most of your day trying to translate everything into everyday English.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/2/2009 10:56:40 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
I often wondered why I bothered to take holidays. R would just go into lazy mode and leave things until I got back. He would even phone the clients and have them change closing dates rather than do the work himself. This always drove me mad. When he was away, things went along quite well, thank you very much. It seems like once someone else knows how to do something, they forget how to do it themselves. But then again, what else do you have to look foward to but your holidays?
The kids eventually moved out of the house. But strangely, neither of them moved very far from home. They generally lived on the same side of the city as me and it was nice having them close by. Both of them have got a strong work ethic and don't change jobs frequently. They are both doing well and I thank the Lord for that.
I have always loved books, from the time I learned to read. Books have always been my relaxation, what I do to recharge. I own thousands of books and enjoy rereading favorites. My tastes are pretty eclectic. I have a 54 volume set called the "Great Books of the Western World," including everything from Homer to Freud, including Plato, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Blaise Pascal, Tolstoy. But I also enjoy a lot of modern authors as well: James Michener, Herman Wouk, Taylor Caldwell, John Grisham, Patricia Cornwall, Celeste deBlasis and many others. While I read a lot of fiction, I have a fair bit of non-fiction as well.
My other hobby has been movies. I have a lot of VHS's and DVD's and again love to re-watch favorites. I love drama, the longer the better.
The last fifteen or sixteen years have been difficult. I need to think about how I want to tell this part of my story, so I guess I'll be back when I'm back.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/7/2009 11:10:25 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Been suffering from a summer cold. Still feeling yucky.
It's strange, but I feel very removed from parts of my life. Don't know if that is not wanting to deal with things or what it truly signifies (if anything). But I figure I'll just do what I can. I can always come back to it later.
My father had his first stroke at a Christmas concert at church in 1994. He was in hospital for a few weeks. He seemed to recover fairly well from this. Then six months later he had another stroke with the same part of the brain being affected. He was now unable to speak (make himself understood) nor could he understand what was being spoken to him. He was in the hospital for a few weeks, then transferred to a long-term hospital for some therapy.
My mother was afraid to take dad home after this second stroke which was understandable. It must have been very frustrating for dad and of course this was bound to show in anger and irritability. The family met with doctors, social workers and therapists and were advised that because of his age and the fact that affected part of the brain had been struck twice, that he was unlikely to regain the ability to speak or understand. He was in his mid-seventies at the time and while he had been definitely slowing down, the second stroke really made this evident. Except for the usual initial weakness, the stroke did not seam to affect him physically (i.e. an arm, or leg, etc.). They also advised that patients suffering from aphasia usually take out their frustrations on those closest to them (which in this case would mean mom). They also advised that he would be susceptible to kidney failure and further strokes.
So the decision was made to have him transferred to a nursing home. While he wasn't happy about it, he seemed to settle in. The one thing he always retained was his spatial sense. He did a lot of walking, but he never got lost. I think it was all the walking he did over the ensuing years that kept his general health as good as it was.
Mom had never lived alone; she went from her parents home to the home she shared with my father. This was a difficult time for her. She felt that she should visit dad as often as possible so was making the trip five or six days a week. This was very tiring as it mean two or three buses each way. The trouble was that dad gave her visits mixed reactions. Some days he was quite happy to see her. Other days he was very frustrated and took it out on her. My mom is a very friendly lady and she got to know quite a few of the residents of the home, but this also caused problems. Dad didn't like her spending time with anyone else, even though there really wasn't much they could do together, except take walks. Some days he would hand mom her purse, give her her coat and walk her to the bus stop, basically saying "go home."
We tried to tell Mom that visits two or three times a week would be plenty and she wasn't doing either of them any good if she made herself sick. Sometimes she would back off for a day or two but then would feel guilty and off she would go again.
My dad had always handled finances, purchases and all business related to running a household. Over the years Mom had tried to get him to explain things to her, but he refused. That was his job. Now it seemed like everything that came in the mail presented a huge burden to her. She wanted to do everything right but had never had the responsibility before. Daily telephone calls became the norm and I was glad to be of help to her. But it can get pretty stressful trying to help someone to reconcile their check book over the phone. My brother had set things up so that there was a system in place to make sure things got paid, but because he lived a couple hundred miles away, it was me that ended up with the daily contact. Most of the time it was a matter of encouraging her, but sometimes it became difficult because everything loomed so large for her.
As the months went by, mom started thinking she should bring dad home for visits. I cautioned her that it might not be a wise thing to do, but she wouldn't let it go. My DD (the only one of us who drove) and I picked up dad for the first visit. It did not go very well. He was upset because he couldn't drive the car; he looked at the mail and got upset; he wanted mom to cut his hair and then didn't like it. By the time we had supper and took dad back to the nursing home, he seemed relieved to be back.
But mom didn't stop there. She knew I didn't think this was wise, so she arranged for friends to bring dad for visits. Some went better than others. Then she decided to have an overnight visit. The friends stayed overnight as well, because she was still nervous about having dad at home. I kept telling her this wasn't doing anyone any good, but nothing seemed to matter. Finally, after one overnight visit, when she and her friends were driving him back to the nursing home, dad ran away when they parked. He didn't go far, but he was hiding behind cars and definitely making it clear he didn't want to go back.
I don't know where mom got this idea, but she decided he didn't want to go back because they were not treating him well at the nursing home. We have no evidence to suggest this and despite dad's handicaps, he was still quite physically strong. I doubt very much that anyone could have maltreated him without suffering the consequences. But I think mom didn't like being alone, so gave herself a reason to bring him home to stay. Nothing could change her mind, so the future was set.
I have to give my mom much credit for her patience, longsuffering and compassion for my father. She never blamed him for what he put her through. God was and is her strength. But it certainly didn't make the coming years easy.
Dad had always puttered around the house and yard and garage. By the time he came home, it was cold and he couldn't do much outside. So he decided to take apart the furnace on a regular basis and mom would have to arrange for someone to put it back together. Mom could never dissuade him for anything. He had never listened to her before and he certainly wouldn't do so now. He would only get angry if she tried to stop him or help him with anything. The only relief she got was that dad took slow walks at least twice a day and took quite a few naps. Come summer, the fun really started. He would try to use a spoon when a screwdriver was required. He would put gas where the oil should go in the lawnmower and vice versa. But despite all these things, God kept them safe.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/9/2009 11:00:05 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
About the time I hit forty (and the beginnings of menopause), arthritis decided it wanted to make its home in my body. I had hurt my back at sixteen and then having fairly large children at seventeen and eighteen, resulted in chronic back problems. It started mostly in my back and hips, but it seems it liked its new home and soon found its way to every major joint. Then I found out that I had a rotator cuff problem on the right and bursitis. But in the beginning it was just a sometimes thing, for which I was grateful.
Somewhere about the time of dad's strokes, I went bankrupt. My own fault; no doubt about it. For someone who likes to think she has a few active brain cells, I can do some extremely stupid things . I think I figured that I might as well be good to myself as it appeared no one else was going to do it for me. My biggest weakness is books, lots and lots of books. All I can say is is that there are worse habits I could have (and do).
In the fall of 1997 I had breakdown #1 and was off work for November, December and January. In hindsight, I think this was just the tip of the iceburg. I remember phoning DD and asking her to call my mom and tell her I wouldn't be calling her for a few days. I was in no shape to deal with my own problems, never mind anybody elses.
My employer sent me a list (by courier) of all the files on or at my desk and asked me to write down the status of each file. They sent a courier to pick this up (much easier than having to open the file and read it, I guess ). I went back into counseling and just tried to rest and get my act back together.
The one good thing that came out of this was that my position at work was changed somewhat. R hired someone else to be his assistant and I would work solely on commercial loan files. This was a distinct improvement as it was a much more efficient use of my time and abilities. The only phone calls I would have to deal with would be those from our client and from the law office acting on the other side.
I have to state here that despite my belly-aching, the firm was very good to me in this regard. They made it clear from the beginning that they wanted me to come back and continue working for them. It certainly wasn't something they had to do.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/10/2009 11:08:11 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
While work was, as always, very busy and stressful, I was enjoying my new position. I felt more focused, more productive.
In July, 1998, my DD was on a motorcycle holiday with her dad (she has her own bike) when she was in an accident. It was one of those truly freaky things. Speed wasn't really a factor. They were crossing a steel grated bridge and it was drizzling. Her dad had gotten off the bridge ahead of her. As she started to slip and lose control of the bike, a car turned onto the bridge and the two met. I was told she hit the car, flew into the air and hit the ground hard. They sent a helicopter to take her to the hospital in Bellingham, Washington. Her dad was following on his motorcycle. The weather had turned bad and they were going to bring her to Vancouver, BC by ambulance. She refused to be moved until her dad had caught up with them. She never lost consciousness the whole time. Thank the Lord for body shock. She was in surgery for six hours. She was very lucky. She broke her right femur (bone came out just above her knee), crushed her right ankle, broker her right forearm and dislocated the elbow. She now has various rods, plates and screws holding her right leg and left arm together.
I've never heard her dad cry before. Poor guy. He has done emergency rescue work after earthquakes in Russia and Mexico, but this was his daughter. DD's then current boyfriend and I drove out to Vancouver to be with her. Vancouver used to be noted for almost daily showers that kept temperatures down and really refreshed everything. The whole ten days we were there, it was extremely hot and not a drop of rain. DD was in an older part of the hospital and it was very warm. I kept filling a bowl with ice chips and put a fan behind the bowl to try and cool her off. Alot of her dad's family lives on the west coast and they were all wonderful about visiting her.
At the time, she lived by herself in a basement suite. While we were in Vancouver, her boyfriend got a few of his friends to build a wheelchair ramp on the front of his house where it was decided she would do most of her recovery. DD and I flew back home while the boyfriend drove.
The Lord must have been looking out for her. She was off work for seven months, went through the usual rehab and also did a lot of work for her employer while she was off. She moved back to her place probably in the latter part of October or early November. Somehow she managed on her own. By the time she went back to work in February you would never know she had been in an accident.
I'm one of these people who breaks down after the fact. By the time we got back from Vancouver, I ended up with pneumonia so had to take another week off work.
Back to the present - I think my age is showing. As I sat here tonight typing, I remembered some journals that dated back to breakdown #1. I think part of the reason I haven't been able to really get into this lately is because I've put up a protective wall around myself again. Forgetting about the journals was part of it. I think I may have to go back a little and deal with what I've been avoiding, because now that I've found myself out, I can't hide anymore. This is really hard, but I guess that's what the whole point of this blog has been. Perhaps this depression I've been in for quite a while is further evidence of this avoidance. How easy it is to hide from ourselves. Lord, give me strength to be bold and to be honest and not to hide anymore.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/12/2009 10:26:37 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Precious Lord, I thank you that You are lifting the burden from my heart. I thank You too for the prayers of good Christian friends who pray for me when it seems I cannot. Your atttributes, including Your love for me, is so vast that I cannot comprehend or understand it. And because I cannot understand I become afraid and hide away from You. Forgive me, Lord, and flood me with the assurance of Your love. In Jesus Name Amen.
This post really belongs after #38. By God's grace I feel able to continue. These are thoughts from my journals. How very raw they are!
November 1997
I like to think that I am other than my job, hate the thought that it defines me. Yet I allow it to overwhelm me. Maybe there is no substance that can stand on its own. Have I spent the last 18 years trying so hard to be good at my job because I didn’t really feel I was good at anything else? At first I rationalized that after DH left it was important to be good at something to build my self-esteem. But I don’t think it was enough to make me believe I was a good person.
I can’t seem to accept other people’s concern for me, it makes me uncomfortable. Don’t I think I deserve it? Why keep apologizing? My own weakness frightens me. I think I’m afraid that if I don’t give 150% there will be nothing to make me special. At the same time, I don’t want to spend so much time at work but then will I just be part of the nameless masses? What a mess. There is so much that doesn’t make sense and probably never will.
People do seem to like me, but I’m not very comfortable with that being voiced. The goodness and sweetness I see in others seems so often to be used against them and I feel defenseless enough without leaving myself wide open to what the world can dish out. On a rational level I can see and accept the human dichotomy but on a reactionary level it makes me cautious and cynical. Taking a gamble is not in my nature.
I want to feel a part of something but don’t want that “something” to take over me. I don’t know why I’ve never felt a part of things. I don’t want my work to define me, yet it’s the only way I allow people to think well of me. Why is it so hard to be a part of something and yet separate. Being separate seems so important to me.
I feel things so deeply, I cry at happy times and sad times. My feelings are so strong they scare me. Perhaps that’s why I try so hard to hold tight to everything. Talk about being an extremist! I either hold everything tight and don’t let anything out or I’m a tidal wave of feeling. Where does a pleasant calm come in?
Am I so critical of others in some desperate attempt to feel superior? Probably. Do people actually have a natural tendency toward certain personalities? Of course they do; I've known that for a long time. How much effort does it take to change? Can a person really change? Personally, I think only small degrees of change are possible or likely. It’s too hard to sustain something that is not natural or real. I could no more become sweetness and light then become a tree. No wonder studying human nature is a full time occupation. It’s so perverse and diverse but in some ways all the same in the end.
Bathing was always quick and a necessity rather than for enjoyment. There was something "wrong" or "bad" or just hidden or unspoken about the human body. Perhaps my lack of ease with my own body stems from this. I’ve never really felt comfortable or content with my looks, while feeling that my body is just a means of containing my essence. While not content with my looks, I don’t really want to be beautiful. I’m sure that being beautiful must present unbelievable problems. Yet I must admit I do admire people I consider beautiful. Oh well, one problem I don't have to worry about.
My grandfather on my father’s side was a part-time preacher; I gather a Ukrainian “fire and brimstone” type. He chose my grandmother as a wife because she looked like she could work hard. Love never entered into it. He was an old fashioned patriarch, very stern. I’ve heard stories from my aunts that he made my youngest aunt go pick rocks in the field when she was sick. My older aunts finally made him stop. I realize life was hard on the farm in those days, something I’ve never experienced. But it is clear that the position of women in that universe, at least in that family, was very secondary. Not surprising my father is following in his father’s footsteps. Hard work, duty and responsibility were ingrained, certainly not a bad thing, but somehow very bleak.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/15/2009 10:36:34 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Nov 07 Journal notes continued:
We lived in a middle class neighborhood but sometimes I felt like we lived like refugees. My parents families were not rich, especially my mother’s and they learned early to get the most out of very little. When we were young, baths were only weekly, we wore the same clothes all week, so of course staying clean was important. A lot of clothes were hand me downs and generally not “in fashion”. Not that we were poorly dressed, but I always felt not right. Very petty, I know, but that’s how I felt.
My brother seemed to get away with so much more than I did. We used to get paid for good marks. I was a better student than he was, but somehow Dad always had an excuse why my brother got as much as I did, even though my marks were better. We had normal chores to do. My brother and I would do dishes; me washing and he drying. He would be deliberately very slow so that I would have to help me when I was finished washing. When we were old enough to receive an allowance I was expected to save up for what I wants. My brother would ask for more money and when Dad asked what he had done with his allowance, my brother said he was saving it, so Dad would give him more. When I would complain about the inequities, my father would brush me off and my mother, being the peacemaker, would just tell me to ignore it. We had the usual music lessons, skating and skiing. My brother always got new sports equipment, while I got the used stuff. Being the oldest, I usually got blamed when we were horsing around. I guess a lot of these things were reflected in the way I raised my children. I was quite strict, but I encouraged my children to enjoy being kids. If they got dirty, so what? Just have a bath and change your clothes. I figured making mud pies and getting dirty where supposed to be fun. Certainly, there were times not to get dirty. I was strict about mealtimes and bedtimes and behaving in public. Somehow I must have done something right, as the kids were generally well-behaved in public without all sorts of dire threats being required. And I desperately tried to be fair, acknowledging that I didn’t always succeed.
S (my counselor) commented that I think faster than I feel which is very true. I suppose that’s why I fall apart a considerable time after something happens. After my ex left it took at least six months before I really felt things. And then my body went even later. I’m very opinionated and judgmental, although the judgmental part is not necessarily bad. I think we have to appraise the situation and people we have to operate with and make judgments in order to know how to conduct ourselves. I think I’m quite intuitive and perceptive and people seem to feel free to talk about their problems with me. That’s obviously complementary, but can also be a burden sometimes.
Somehow it’s very important to feel a strong sense of self, to trust who I am even though that may change on a day to day basis. One of the odd things is that when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel that I see me; I don’t know what I imagine I should look like. It makes me wonder how other people see me. It’s odd really, how our outer selves is what we are judged on as a first impression. Perhaps it’s a sign of how far away I feel from my physical self. Yet the pain I feel from the arthritis, the discomfort of the asthma, the sexual feelings are definitely housed in the body that houses me. I wonder if other people feel these things. We all want to feel special in some way so maybe I’m just fooling myself somehow. It’s odd, but it’s the lost soul, the confused part, the hurt and scared part of people I seem to relate to and pick up on. Perhaps my nature sees the dark side more than the light. It’s wonderful to be happy, to share in other people’s joys as well as my own, in sharing the satisfaction in accomplishments, but in some ways I think I relate to people’s pain and confusion better. Perhaps that’s because I feel so much of the hurt and confusion myself. Certainly not all the time. I know how unfair impressions can be.
I think I try to pick up on people’s bad characteristics or see the negative first so I can guard against possible future hurt. I guess it seems safer to expect the worst or nothing, and be pleasantly surprised rather than have my expectations crushed and disappointed. Yet I also try hard to be fair and try to understand why people do what they do. There goes that duality think again. I must learn to accept it with my heart and not just my head. I recognize what a control freak I am and how little I trust. I realize with my head that by closing myself off I’m probably missing out on a lot, but on the other side, I’m also protecting myself. Giving is easier than receiving, at least for me. I think I feel things so strongly that I scare people away.
I suppose I’ve always been an observer and not a participant. Yet I can work well with others. I try to adapt to whomever I work with. My skill and input at work seem to be appreciated; my opinion is often sought. Being in law has taught me a lot. I developed skills and trained my mind in many ways. But it seems that once I know how to do things, I end up feeling like I HAVE to do it. It seems that the more you do, the most is expected of you. And foolish me, I walk right into it. I take on too much and instead of knowing when to holler “stop”, I just keep trying harder. Having someone depend on me makes me feel good, but then I feel like a failure when it becomes too much. I realize that I let things get bad, although its certainly not all my fault. I think employees never feel very secure. It’s an ugly world out there and it doesn’t seem to be getting better. I’m not getting any younger and just don’t think I can (or want) to start all over again somewhere else. Changes scare me, upset my equilibrium (what little there is of it!). I suppose I could adapt if I had to but change isn’t something I’m going to go looking for.
It seems that once I start working overtime, I can’t stop. I get on the merry-go-round and can’t get off. That happy medium called "balance" is the bane of my existence. Extremes seem to be natural to me. Perhaps I’ve just learned to bury things deeper and for longer periods so when the explosion comes, it’s even worse. I hope that’s not the case. There really have been times when I felt like I was getting a handle on things. But I have to learn to be more in touch with myself, to recognize when things are getting to be too much. Only I can do this.
My tendency to be critical of everything isn’t good. I suppose I figure if I seek out the downside first, I will be better prepared to deal with things. Seeing the good first or even expecting good seems foreign to me. It’s odd really, but on the whole I think the world is pretty ugly and getting uglier. Yet on an individual basis, I feel there is hope. I’ve really closed myself off from so much and probably missed a lot in the meantime. But being cautious, trying not to be hurt seems to be a priority.
Mycrying jags have embarrassed me throughout my life. I cry when frustrated, angry, happy, at some kindness shown to me, an unkindness directed towards people I care bout and I seem to have absolutely no control over my tears. How often I’ve wished and prayed that I would have greater control. But that seems to be a part of me, being an emotional person. Our world doesn’t encourage feelings, so I try to hold them back. I suppose the rest of the world also suffers from an unfeeling, fast changing society. Perhaps I should try to express more of my emotions after the work day ends. But it’s very draining being on an emotional seesaw.
Sometimes I feel like all of this is just self indulgent ****. Everybody carries baggage around. My life hasn’t been bad or particularly hard. Why do I feel damaged or hurt? Yet whatever people feel is very real. Feeling is what makes us human. Intelligence on its own is not enough. Just look at the world! It’s bad enough without feelings and principles, honor, a sense of right or wrong. It’s all information and lots of it. No wonder people get stressed out. There is no time to feel, we’re so busy reacting to all the information coming at us.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/15/2009 11:00:47 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Dec 07 Journal notes:
Sometimes I think it might be good to work in a helping field, but ultimately I think it would drain me too much. It’s really not right to complain about things without being willing to do something about changing them. Smallness of spirit is not something I’m proud of. I wish I had the energy to do more, but I just don’t. I hope I can at least be more generous with my heart to those I care about. Sometimes I think having a less stressful job would be nice, but I would probably end up bored and you still have to spend as much time at something boring as at something interesting. Ultimately, I would LOVE not having to work. When I dream of winning the lottery, it’s not so much about being ostentatious. It would just be nice to live nicely, not have to put up with the world’s ****, travel a little, not first class, but comfortably; have enough so I could hire people to look after the more mundane aspects of life; perhaps try writing, swim every day. I was rather surprised that S. seemed to think my “Connecticut Dream” was good; that it’s a good place to let yourself go to. I’m sure I would continue to do so even if he hadn’t said it, but his approval means a lot.
INSERT - My "Connecticut Dream" - I have always loved to look at real estate propery, beautiful houses, inside and out. Now I can do this on the net but in years past I would buy house magazines. I found a house in Connecticut in a magazine that just "spoke" to me. It wasn't humungous, but not small either. It was kind of a hunting lodge type of place; lots of wood and stone. It contained a few acres. There was a stone bridge that crossed a creek as you approached the propery and there was a gazebo in the middle of the creek. Lots of huge old trees. Many fireplaces in the house. Sometimes when I went to bed at night I would think about this place and imagine myself living there, with room for all my books (think of bookshelves in every room).
I don’t know why I feel so lousy right now. Couldn’t sleep, very tense, like there is something I have to get at. Have made progress but feel at a crossroads again but don’t know why. Is it because I’ve been unintentionally thinking about and dreaming about work? I know I haven’t really dealt with going back yet. Don’t know if I’m ready to. What is it that I still can’t get a hold of? It’s terrible to say, but I’m not looking forward to Christmas. It was so much easier when Mom and Dad were in Arizona at Christmas. Talked to Mom this evening. I’m not even comfortable doing that anymore. I wish I could run away or just hide in my house.
I keep reading this mess over and over again and I’m not sure what to make of it. It may be necessary to do it more intensely. Something is missing. Perhaps I should just let things alone for a while.
Bad night. It seems like my feelings only want to come out at night, in bed. I feel like there is a door I have to go through, or like there is a big elastic band that only lets me go so far and then springs me back. It’s so frustrating. I wish I could work all this out, cry, scream, hit. Maybe I can work myself to that, but it’s kind of a scary thought. Lying in bed, I flew and looked down on Austria, Belgium and other countries. I danced to music so beautiful it made my cry. Beautiful colors, mountains, castles, scenery and music, movement, beauty so real it makes your chest ache.
I know that my life won’t change that much. Absorbing things from the outside, beautiful thoughts and images is OK; it’s better than not allowing myself to feel. Nobody’s life is perfect. Few people really enjoy their jobs, but we must take the good from where we can. If my feelings are so far behind my thinking, I must allow the feelings to catch up; to feel them through and through. There is only so much time before I have to rejoin the real world. I guess being so time conscious makes me feel like I have to hurry up and solve everything. I have to be cognizant that solving everything is impossible. Everybody lives with problems or tries to. This is obviously part of the bigger problem of feeling I have to do everything, keep everyone satisfied. When will I grow up enough to realize that I can’t?
It’s been a long time since I wrote here. I’m so tense today. I’m starting to worry about January. Woke up feeling so wired, like I’m going nuts. If I’m doing this now, what will I be like closer to the time I go back to work. I feel like I have to do everything before I go back. It’s like I want to read every book I own, see every video, listen to every record. Obviously these are shades of things I have to overcome. What will it take to get me to slow down and relax?! I’m starting to feel obligated about calling Mom again.
What a mess I’ve made of things. Bankrupt, no money saved, crazy. Have I lost all feeling for things? No, but I’m still so scared of going back to work, of the pain in my side. I thought the worst was over. Maybe I have too much time to think. It’s too easy to get caught up in myself. Does anyone really know themselves? Is it worthwhile to even try? In my heart I know it is. Are the people who don’t seem to need this better off? I don’t know. At least on the surface they seem to be. But perhaps they are just like me except they hide it better. As I well know, it’s so hard to get the head and the heart together. Why is it so hard?
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/16/2009 10:43:03 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Feb 08 to April 08
Well, it’s been quite a while. Back at work. It went so much better than I could have imagined. R (boss) has me doing precedents which is a good way to get back into it. It’s been very nice to feel that I’m really welcomed back. R especially seems to be glad I’m back. Am surprised that he’s so set on this precedent thing, but I suppose having to find his own for three months made it clear how important it is. What makes me most happy and grateful is all the things I don’t have to worry about now. I know there will be plenty of "stuff" of my own in due course, when I finally start doing files, but the novelty of not doing the usual "stuff" should last quite a while. Saw S (counselor) yesterday and I’m glad that I’ve decided to go back monthly for a while. Hopefully that will help me to keep some sort of perspective. The bad part of things is how bad the arthritis is right now. Very bad!!! Have to try very hard not to let it get me down. Somehow I have to be strong enough to help those I care about without letting it get me down or without becoming co-dependent. Backing off with Mom seems, at least to this point, to be having positive results. Oh well, must remember I can’t change the world, or at least other people’s world. Being supportive and caring is possible without it becoming unhealthy. However, for someone like me it’s hard to draw the line. I must remember how hard it is for me to accept other people’s help so I shouldn’t shove my help down their throats.
Minor crisis (I hope minor that is). Finally doing the paralegal work. Work is fine, but it’s SUPER busy and R's away. Baptism by fire as usual. Got through today and I’m probably worrying for no good reason. MUST learn to be more laid back and take it a step at a time. MUST take time to review the file (DON’T RUSH) and DON’T try to do more than one thing at a time. Make more use of resources. Don’t rely on the phone, write a fax! I’m starting to think I should make a mantra and keep repeating it and/or writing it until I’m calm. I must not let clients and/or Borrowers pressure me. I should be gracious but firm and refer problems to lawyers. I AM NOT A LAWYER! DON’T TRY TO BE ONE! I’m also not going to panic if overtime seems to be required. Do it, but don’t let it become a habit. And DON’T get up tight about it. I don’t need to compete with anyone, including myself. It’s more important to do a good job than do a lot badly. Hopefully, just writing this down will help. I must use what resources are available to me to try and change bad habits.
Nov. 98
So much to catch up on but not now. Bad day today. Too much work, it’s getting me down. Have to get a grip and not let it get to me. Can only do one thing at a time. God, help me to be strong. Must remember to just do one thing at a time and not try to do everything at once. Must NOT let people’s requests make me feel like I have to handle everything that minute. I must not be defensive. Just honest about what I can and cannot do. I must learn NOT to apologize or feel defensive. I can only do what I can do. I shouldn’t feel bad or guilty if I can’t fulfill everyone’s wishes all the time. I’m quick and I’m good, but I’m only one person. Lord, help me not to lose what was so hard to learn last year at this time. Please, let it not happen again. I pray that I can go in tomorrow with a positive attitude and keep it all day. Give me strength and thank you, Lord.
By the fall of 1999, I was again on the edge; breakdown #2 ensued.
Oct. 99
Well, this must make it official! I’m crazy. I don’t know; am I sitting here waiting for someone to come and put me away? I can’t even call S. I don’t know why A's (work friend) call sent me over the edge so badly. Is it because she’s the only one who cares? Is she the only friend I have? The floodgates got opened and now I can’t close them. At least before I was functioning crazy. Now I feel like I can’t do anything. What’s going to happen to me? I’m so ashamed. What a mess I’ve made of my life! A’s dying and goes through it with so much grace and I can’t even get through living without making a mess of it. Why should I feel so rotten? I’m so angry at myself. There is no good reason for all of this. I’m so afraid. I don’t want to die, but I don’t seem to know how to live. I just want to hide away. And I’m ashamed. Never before have I been ashamed of my emotional problems, but now I worry about the stigma of being mentally ill. I want somebody else to make the decisions. Is it better or worse if I commit myself or someone else does. I don’t want to embarrass my children. What a burden for them to have a crazy mother. So embarrassing! Sometimes I wish I were stupid. I just want to be left alone. I wish the whole house and me in it could just magically be somewhere else. I can’t cope with my life and the world. One of my earliest remembered feelings is of not belonging anywhere. I feel like I never belonged anywhere. Why did my conversation with A start this? Why do I want to keep on living? Because there are too many books I still want to read? How pathetic! Have all my stupid efforts been just for attention? I’m a bloody breathing cliché!!! Mid life crisis! Menopausal break down. Lonely woman goes crazy. It sounds like a story for the tabloids, but it’s surely too dull for them. I feel like my mind and my body are betraying me. The real me hidden somewhere inside of me is better than all this. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t know who that is. I’m not who I see. This body encasing me is not who I am. Is the question so basic? WHO AM I? I feel that the core piece of me has some worth, some value. It’s blurry now, but I sense goodness, strength, caring, love, intelligence in there but somehow it gets lost in a maze on its way, trying to get out. Or it becomes some jumbled inexplicable mess that comes out, is what the world sees, not me, but this mess. Can I get through this on my own? Will it work its way through if I just hang in there? Can I help myself? Somehow a part of me feels that if I don’t do it for myself, I will be forever weakened, forever dependent on someone else. I want so much to be strong. S helps, but I think I hold back because I like the rapport we have. He seems to enjoy me and perhaps I don’t want the real uglies to get out. But what is there that’s so ugly? I’m not a bad person. Am I just angry at the cards life has dealt me? I should quit being such a baby. My life has not been bad. That’s what makes this terrible time to unbearable. There seems to be no good reason for all this. It’s just a bunch of ****!!!
Am I so envious of everybody else? I want to be proud in my solitariness. And strong. Just shame at this weakness. I’m too smart for this. Why can’t I rise above it? I don’t know why it’s so important to me to stand alone, but it is. I don’t want to need. I want something pure for myself, not tainted. Some part of me wants so badly to hold on to that core ME. I don’t want to have to be what someone else thinks I should be. A thinks I’m too much alone. And according to what is accepted as the norm, I suppose I am. Do I not want to be or do what is acceptable as a means of being special, different? It makes me angry to think I have to conform, or need to conform. Somehow that would be lowering myself. And yet I’m probably denying myself the simple pleasures of interaction. I don’t know how much of my apartness is from fear, or is a defense mechanism. I know I have built up many over the years, rationalizing that we all need some in some shape or form. It’s how we get by. Is A’s reserve a part of who she is, or just a defense mechanism? Why do I cry so much? Why can’t I control that? I know it’s a release mechanism and people who can’t cry wish they could. But it looks so stupid because I can’t control it. When a crying jag starts that’s it; I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it. It makes me so bloody vulnerable. I don’t know if I’m mad at A for starting this jag. Maybe I should be grateful, but before she called I felt OK. Or is it that just because someone showed some sign of concern so touching that it sent me over the edge. How pathetic! We all make our own crippled way through this life. Everybody copes the best way they know how. Do I not have any coping mechanisms left? Do I really not like myself? That thought is abhorrent. Why do we need validation? Why can’t we just be. To be honest (I think) I suppose I want to be good at my job; to get validation for my work. But maybe that is telling. I’m willing to be valued for what I DO but I can’t accept validation of myself as a person. Why not? I’m friendly, funny, smart, hard-working, soft-hearted. I suppose we all want to be special in some way. Perhaps I have to learn to accept how ordinary I really am. That what you see is what you get. NO! There is more to me than meets the eye. I just don’t know how to let ME out. But the world scares me; no, maybe people scare me. The world is a beautiful place; it’s what people have done and continue to do that makes this ugly, dangerous, hostile. Is all of that ugliness and hostility just everyone’s trying to get at their real selves? What a mess we make of things. Am I so judgmental because I can’t accept who or what I am? My home is my haven. Outside its doors is a world I don’t seem to know how to deal with. I’m so tired. I wish I could retire. That’s probably naïve, but I can’t seem to appreciate or enjoy the world when I spend so much time in what feels like a hostile and stupid environment. I suppose I transfer the greed, stupidity and whatever other non-admirable things at work to the rest of the world. Yet work has been good to me in many ways. One on one, a lot of the people at work are very nice, but there seems to be something about the legal business that brings out some very strange, reprehensible reactions. Logically I know that no place is all good or all bad. I suppose because this is all I’ve known for the last 21 years, it’s become my view of the world and how it operates. Is this where the impending sense of doom comes from?
An odd thought. Do I feel that well-rounded people are lacking in something? Do I think they don’t have some burning passion about something? And yet my whole life seems to be a fight for finding some sort of happy-medium. What a crock I am! Maybe I am crazy!!!
Is this need or desire for something pure just a need for some grand passion in my life? How pedestrian! Do I love books because of what they give to me, but don’t ask anything in return? Maybe I’m lazy, I don’t want to give, but I just want to receive. Maybe I just want to be someone’s grand passion. That thought is so hard for me to deal with. Maybe I feel that I’ve given enough and now it’s my turn to receive. But the popular belief is that you only reap what you sow. My garden is bare so how can I harvest anything? But I’m so afraid to be hurt. Maybe I’m fighting to like myself because I don’t believe anyone else ever will. I don’t know how to accept from others because I’m afraid I will have to give something in return. Maybe I’m afraid I have nothing to give. There goes that lack of self worth monster again. I’m good enough for me but not for anybody else. What a prize! I don’t want to die, but I don’t seem to know how to live. Maybe I’m just afraid to do either, live or die; thus the claim that I just want to “be”. Am I afraid to die because I’ll go to hell? Do I just live because dying might be worse? Just a big coward, all the way around. Maybe I figure living is easier because it’s finite, but death is infinite. You would think that would scare me into living life to the fullest. But when I’m OK, I’m OK. It may not be great, but I get by. Maybe that’s all we can ultimately expect; just to get by. But I know that’s not really true; it’s what I’ve allowed myself to become. I seem to have no strength for anything more. I’m so tired, so very tired.
Here I sit with my crying cloth. I’ve managed to rouse myself enough to do the usual Friday stuff. I wish I had my own office. I could work and ignore all (or at least most) of the things that make me want to scream. Maybe I should take stock, pro and con. But I’m afraid it would make me feel even worse. I have no real reason to be so miserable and I know that. How can I be like this??? Why? All I do is find fault. Yet I feel so aware of painful things, not just my own. I hate the way people treat each other (not that I’m any good at it). Why do I seem to absorb all the pain and none of the happiness? Is there no happiness to absorb? Maybe I’m too big of a sponge. If I wasn’t fat, if I was skinny, maybe the absorption factor would go down. Wishful thinking.
I know my children love me. My mother loves me. If I let them, there are some people who would care, but it’s so hard to share what I feel. Maybe because I feel I shouldn’t be feeling most of these things, I want to feel needed, but don’t want to need. The only thing work gives me is a sense that I am good at something; at least I help them make money. That’s all any place of work can want. Maybe I should try and borrow money to work at home. It’s funny – I wish I had A's reserve, J's pleasantness, DD's confidence (and her looks would be nice) but yet I don’t want my ME to be anybody else’s. What is this core I hold on to so desperately. I want sweet pure music; pure knowledge, pure inner self. Everything gets so contaminated. You can’t cut through all the bull, all the toxic waste. Nothing has grabbed me like the Shoah Foundation. When I watched it, I wanted so much to be a part of it. This is something I feel is important, something I relate to. Why I don’t know. There are horrors all over the world but for some reason that one touches me. It’s really rather ironic because the Jews I do know don’t exactly impress me. Is there something n my genetic history that makes these things important? Is there Jewishness in my background? Or enough of the black Russian psyche that makes me like this. I probably want answers to the unanswerable. Why can’t I think of it as an adventure of discovery, that that’s what life is? What makes me think I should have answers when nobody else does? All the wasted energy seems to be a way to avoid truths. Do we run around just to keep ourselves from facing things? But what is there to face up to if there are no answers? Maybe that’s what’s so frightening, that no matter what there are no answers and we can’t deal with that. I guess I wish there was some definite point that we could strive to reach in order to attain that “pure” something. But the point is external and keeps moving and I can’t see it and all the motion is making me sick. Maybe I’m trying to make the unattainable my purpose, because I’ve lost whatever other purpose I ever had. It’s all so self-defeating. I guess that’s why quiet, stillness appeal to me. The most motion I want is just a gentle rocking. I want my mountain meadow with clear water, just the birds singing. But even that can’t stay the same. Storms come, the wind blows, there are avalanches, so we have to keep moving. But I’m too tired to move. So whatever comes will just end up getting me. So tired, so tired.
Maybe this is just my tortured road to God. I envy Mom’s faith but I don’t think faith should be an excuse for not thinking. Yet it obviously gets Mom through. I just want to be strong, not walked all over or used badly, but perhaps there is strength in suffering, in taking whatever gets dished out, without fighting back. Maybe that’s what I’m really afraid of, why I fight everything. That’s what I want; quiet strength, not noisy strength. Maybe that’s just hot air, maybe that’s all I am, just wasted hot air. Talk about wasted energy. I end up being all the things I cry out against. What a sicko! I pride myself on my intelligence but it seems a pretty useless attribute when it comes to myself. It’s pretty bad when you become all the things you despise. What is all this a reaction to? There is usually something. But what? I want to be my own best friend. The sad part is that I’m the only friend I have!!! Why can’t that be enough? Maybe I have to decide what I want in a friend and then become that for myself. I’ve always known human nature is perverse. Maybe I should just become a champion of perversity, since I’m so good at it. Dichotomy! Dichotomy! I can’t reconcile my tenderness with my toughness, my humor with my sadness, my intelligence with my stupidity. I want to let out all the pain in one huge apocalyptic shout. To push out all the poison and leave room for what’s good. I’m so busy guarding against being hurt; obviously not doing a very good job at it! Why is it so hard to take our own advise? I really think I’m quite perceptive about others, but so totally out to lunch about myself. Is it because we are so busy feeling our own feelings that all personal perception is lost? I have an ugly, mean side too; I often wonder how bad it really is. Do I sometimes want to hurt others just so they can feel what I feel? I don’t think it’s a very strong trait, but there is definitely some of that in me. It’s probably just as well that it’s not very refined. That’s one reason why “politically correct” bugs me. Too often it’s used malevolently to hurt people. It’s a lie, a fake, an avoidance of an issue, but it can obviously be a potent tool. Unfortunately, too many of those who are good at it are using it for evil purposes. The truth can be too much to bear sometimes and I realize we can’t all be telling the naked truth all the time. For one thing, one man’s truth may not be another’s. Being pleasantly agreeable is different in my mind from being politically correct. When people say the politically correct thing and then boldly go and do the opposite is what offends me so much.
Where does it all come from? Me, me, me. What a stupid selfish b____! I just don’t measure up to anything or anybody. I’m afraid I’m pushing the kids away. But when I don’t feel fit for human consumption, it’s hard to make that first move. Besides, I don’t want them to feel about me like I feel about my parents. I don’t know if family can help now.
In the still of the night. Maybe I should go out for a walk when it’s dark. I’m too tired right now but maybe I’ll sleep for a while and go out later.
How I hate all this. How low I’ve fallen. But I guess it wasn’t far to fall as I never gained any heights either.
With my stupid propensity for extremes, I’m afraid I’ll go the other way and become one of those pathetic people who can’t be by themselves. Why do I find that pathetic? Why do I find “needing” pathetic? Yet I claim to “need” to be alone. It all just goes round and round and round….
Am I mourning for a self I lost or am I mourning because there was never a self to lose? Have I just been taking up space for 48 years?
Will I ever be able to reach out? Any relationship has the potential for good and bad. I’ve always thought I had pretty good judgment about others, but I really don’t know any more. Anne is probably more solid, more dependable. But it feels like an imposition. How can I take something from someone who is dying? And yet, letting her try to help me is probably helpful and beneficial to her.
Is my physical condition just a manifestation of my mind? Obviously, the power of A’s mind has kept her alive this long. I admire and envy her that strength. I don’t know how she does it; live each day knowing the end is near! No wonder my emotional messiness must be repugnant to her. And even though, she tries to help.
I’ve got to get a grip! I need the income from my job and work will only put up with so much. Lord, help me not to lose my job!!! Hopefully today will be better.
My throat doesn’t hurt much at all today. Are the pills finally working? Or has all this emotional release affected my physical well being? Maybe both! I don’t know if I’m ready to turn the phone back on yet. Why is it so hard for me to decide what’s good for me? Why am I so afraid to try? Fear of failure?
Lord, help me to deal with the unknown. To let go of the control; to trust my own instincts and not to worry so much about things that haven’t happened yet or may never happen; to remember that I can’t control others, only myself (and even that, very poorly!); to let the good in me come out, to not take umbrage at what others do, often without realizing what they are doing, to not feel like everything and everyone is out to get me. I’m not important enough to have that much attention pointed my way!!
Lord, help me to know when it’s time to write, to do something to relieve the stress so I won’t get blindsided so often. Does it always have to be so hard? To find a balance between protecting myself and letting myself grow. Balance….is life just one long search for balance? Another one of those unanswerable questions. To appreciate the diversity of life yet be cognizant of the ways we are all alike, to let the joy and goodness out. Will I ever feel as if I belong? Maybe not. I imagine most of the world feels misunderstood; assailed by forces we can’t control or sometimes can’t even see. There is good and bad in everything. Our good traits taken to the extreme end up working against us; some of our less attractive traits help to protect us in times of emergency. Why? Why? Why? Trying to answer the “Why?” has brought about great thoughts and great inventions, but perhaps the answers are never meant to be complete, definitive. Black and white is easier to deal with then gray and so much of life, of the world is in the gray area. I created a safe environment for myself and the kids, but the kids have gone and now I’m trapped in my own web of “safety” or “security.” I know it’s a stretch, but perhaps I can learn to view the rest of my life as an adventure, approach it eagerly and without fear. Oh! How wonderful that would be. Lord, help me to grow, to move ahead, to be a better person, to let myself make my world a better place; to be good at being me, rather than just good AT something. I think there is a lot in me to give, I just have to open the door. I must learn to differentiate between the normal sharing of problems and not get bogged down in dwelling on things I can’t change. The sharing is important and therapeutic, but obsessing on these things is not.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/16/2009 10:55:27 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Oct 99 continued
Called Mom; was a bad moment. Dad up to his bad tricks again. Why do I get so angry at that situation? I can’t seem to feel sorry for Dad; can’t feel anything for him. I can’t understand how Mom puts up with him. I guess I forget or don’t want to acknowledge that she needs him and is willing to put up with him. Perhaps I feel guilty because I doubt I could ever be that self-sacrificing. I disparage it, but probably to hide my own inadequacies. Many times I envy Mom her strength and lack of selfishness. Perhaps in comparison I feel selfish and self-centered. It’s really sad I guess that I don’t really know my parents. They’ve done so much for me, but I can’t feel close to them. It’s become a burden to me and I’m ashamed of that. When Mom and I spoke last week, when I tried to remind her that she has 2 children and not 1, she just didn’t seem to get it. It’s like women are meant to suffer and carry the burdens. It seems to be part of the trade-off for the men earning a living. Maybe that’s why I can’t relate, because I earn the living. During my last meeting with S I was surprised at how much resentment I feel toward them, how unfairly I feel I’ve been treated. I know it’s become increasingly difficult for me to even talk to Mom; perhaps the anger and pain I’ve harbored all my life needs to somehow come out. This is a real hard one to deal with. Perhaps I’m pushing the kids away because I’m afraid to become a burden to them, the way I feel about my own parents. But I mustn’t let that happen. I have a pretty good relationship with the kids and it would be wrong to lose it. Hopefully, I’ve done something right with them.
Today has been better in terms of tears and pain, but it’s a very fragile thing. Perhaps these highs and lows are physical. It’s so hard having to brace yourself for work and yet somehow turn all the work stress off and get in touch with yourself.
Do I have some sort of death wish? Why can’t I let go of the smoking, take better care of myself? Is the addiction so strong? I think if I actually managed to quit for a while it would be a constant fight to stay off. Why am I so afraid of failure? It’s so stupid. I wish someone could take me and make it all go away, the need to smoke, the fat. Do I keep up the bad habits as an excuse not to do other things? I’m so tired all the time that I truly don’t think I have the energy for anything else. It’s too bad my “ME” has to be housed in this body. Although what being in another body would do, I don’t know.
So much about life is unfair, especially for women. Maybe that’s biased, but when men want to hold us down professionally, they pick on our emotional sides, our caring selves and yet they count on us to deal with details, to make things run better than most of them can. No wonder women are so conflicted. Most men are really pathetic on an emotional, caring level, or at least expressing these things which really is their loss in the long run. But like that book says, women seem to have this need to make up for the deficiency of men. Women seem to have an inborn need to meet other’s expectations. Yet men don’t seem to feel the need to fulfill ours. I know that’s not true of all men or all women. It’s funny really, lots of the men at work have wives who work, who are professionals. They probably don’t dare expect them to do the things they expect from the support staff at work. Taking care of the details is beneath them; it’s something they expect of us. Yet when it suits them, they expect intelligence, etc. from us too. Perhaps all professionals are like that. I complain about their arrogance but I have plenty of it myself. Because I perceive them as spoiled, arrogant children, I feel better then them; reverse snobbishness. I know they have burdens that are difficult, clients who can make life hell, but they don’t seem to realize that a lot of that gets filtered through us, or they figure that’s what we’re there for…to act as buffers. And I guess to a certain extent that’s true. They expect such diverse things from us….buffers, servants, mind-readers. Although it’s a compliment to be asked my opinion on something law related, but at times it just seems a cop-out on their part. “How much do you think we should charge…..go and get the delivery.” It’s so frustrating. Get your own coffee. It’s their practice, charge whatever they they want! It’s like that ________ business….he gives it to me to deal with, I spend a couple of hours on it and then he wants me to stonewall. Don’t waste my time with that ****!!! I’m going to have to make it clear that when he gives me something like that, he should tell me how far he wants me to go. There’s so much about how the world operates that I just don’t get. If support staff was as negligent as they are, we would be fired. Much of this little stuff is maybe not important in the bigger scheme of things or at that particular moment, but putting it off is just plain stupid! R stalls reports forever, yet if I’m away for a few weeks, he suddenly gets up tight about reports that haven’t been done. Believe me, the double standard is alive and well and definitely not in hiding!
I get angry just thinking about work. I wish I had enough strength and confidence to move on. Or at least be less affected by what goes on. Perhaps part of the stress of work is not understanding why they do what they do. Everything is a bloody secret, communication is nil or warped. And yet I know how busy we all get and the human element gets lost in the shuffle. You do what you have to and escape. They do it too. But they can goof off whenever they want to.
Where is the line between being politely civil and using political correctness for your own advantage. They spout one thing then do the opposite. It’s so insulting.
Have I always had such a pessimistic view of the world? I think so. I always feel like I’m navigating in dangerous waters. It would be nice in some ways to have a man who loves me, but I don’t want anyone invading my life, such as it is. Not that there’s much chance of that happening. I’m sure I’d scare away anyone who even dared try! I can’t reconcile my rough edges with my softer side. Guess I’m just a fat porcupine!
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/17/2009 11:02:01 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Oct 99 continued
Why is trying to change so hard???!!! I seem to have no will power or resolve at all! Some sick twisted cry, for what?!! Are my shoulder and back so sore just from writing? Did I sleep funny? What happened to “just set your mind to it!”
I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m so tired of saying and feeling that. Is this all just some psychosomatic effect of not wanting to go to work tomorrow, to not want to be responsible for myself anymore. So tired, so tired, in body and spirit. Lord, help me to get through this coming week, without breaking down (at least at work) without making a fool of myself.
Paranoia, hypochondria, hysteria, what a mess!! I treat thinking positively like some kind of world wide conspiracy. Come on Edith! Get with it. A little bit of effort here!
What has this all been for? All this just to dry up the tears for a little while? I want immediately results, so impatient, why can’t I just sit with this for a while? Why do I feel like I have to hurry with everything? Why do I just want to hide? There are some trains of thought I don’t know if I’m ready to explore yet. Am I so afraid of involvement with other people because I have no self-worth? Do I hate myself? Am I so afraid of rejection? Ridicule? Embarrassment? How we see ourselves and how others see us is so different (or can be). I like to think I’m pretty upfront, you get what you see, but I don’t let ME out. Sometimes I wonder how people view me, what they think of me, but I’m sure I would be terrified to find out. That’s probably why I put myself down. Then I have control of the putdowns. I’ll hurt me before you can hurt me. Are other people really so well-adjusted? Or do they just control things better? Do other people not think about these kinds of things? I criticize constant “busyness” as a sign of people who can’t stand to be with themselves. Some great thrill I’m having with myself!! Involvement, activity is healthy. Why do I avoid it so much? Is it some pathetic attempt to be different? To stand out? Why does being strong by myself have such strong appeal? I don’t know why I’m so afraid of relationships. Millions of people have marriages break up. Many peoples lives are horror stories and yet they seem to not give up on other people. Why do I think that just because my husband left me, nobody else in the world could want me? Balance again. I love too much (too controlling, too obvious) and I expect too much. I feel like I tried so hard to please him, but nothing ever worked. It’s been almost 25 years; why can’t I get over it? I seem to be able to love, but can’t accept it. There is something in me that can’t recognize the signals that someone’s interested. It’s always been like that, even before G. What damaged my psyche so badly so young? Why am I such a frigging mess? I didn’t have a horrendous childhood, I wasn’t a battered wife. I know watching how my father treated my mother always infuriated me. He was such a self-centered jerk. Mom seemed to feel her job was to take all he dished out. No physical abuse, but lots of emotional abuse. But it seems to be the way she expected it to be. He brought in the money so he was entitled to be an ****. She kept the house, catered to Dad, didn’t spend money, only went to church related things. But just because I don’t approve or understand their relationship, it’s what they felt about it that counts. Unfortunately, it had an adverse affect on me.
What's happening to me? Did the tears dry up for 24 hours because that’s how long it takes to refill the tank? Oh God! Please help me. I’m so afraid and ashamed. I’ll never belong anywhere if I’m so crazy or get labeled that way. Where is this all coming from again? Just fear of work tomorrow? Nobody’s treating me badly, if anything they probably treat me better than most. Or is it just the fear of not being able to keep my **** together? Breathe….Breathe…keep CALM! Why is this all hitting me? Am I being punished? For what? I mean I’m no angel but what could I have done to deserve this? I wish I could just shut my brain off for a while. Maybe that’s why I read so much. How can a part of my mind be planning my work and the other just wants to disappear, stop, die? That’s scary; am I just avoiding the world or do I truly want to live? Yes, I do want to live, but I don’t know how; don’t know how to get out of this place I’m in.
I’m so scared! Where is all this coming from? I have no friends and I don’t want to call the kids. What a terrible thing to have a crazy parent. It will make them afraid it will happen to them. They seem at a good place now. I don’t want to take that away from them. Or maybe they would be more hurt if I don’t let them help me. I certainly won’t be able to keep it a secret. Would that be any more harmful or less if I died? I thought I got so much of this out. WHERE IS IT COMING FROM!!?? Are the drugs finally making me crazy? As if it’s not bad enough that I went bankrupt, if I go certifiably crazy, I’ll lose everything. Who the hell would hire a 50 year old ex mental patient (assuming I ever recover). It’s like it’s hitting me in waves and each one is worse or maybe yesterday was just the eye of the storm. When will all this end? Close my eyes and disappear. I’ll end up one of those pathetic souls wandering the streets that everyone, including me, avoids. If I was rich, we could make up some story; I would get treatment under an assumed name. Anything would be better than admitting that this is what I’ve become. Maybe that’s the problem; I don’t have any problems so I make them up. To think I’ve fallen to this. I want to be wrapped up and held and taken care of, hear soothing words spoken, told that it will be alright, that everything will be taken care of. I don’t want to be responsible for me anymore. Maybe I never did. I guess that’s why children keep you going. I can feel two sides of me warring. One side wants to keep functioning like nothing is wrong; the other wants to cross the line and let go, let it happen, whatever it takes to get over this. I don’t know if I’m capable of the first, but I’m afraid to make the move that will start the second. What a con job I’ve done on myself all these years.
Lord, give me the strength to do something about all this. I’m so scared, so scared. I want to be of some use, to have some value as a human being. Will I ever be able to go back to work again? I doubt it, I doubt it. Lord, please, let the kids still love me. I need somebody to care. Nothing left, nothing left, nothing left but if I was empty would I feel so much? So scared, so scared, I hurt so bad, I hope she won’t hate me, I hope she won’t hate me. She just finds happiness and then I go and do this. Now she’ll move away for sure. I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve become a worse burden than my mother. Maybe people like me shouldn’t be allowed to live. What are we contributing? But at least I contributed 2 good people. And I made money for the people I worked for. I’m so afraid, so scared. I wanted so much to at least be self-supporting, to at least appear like I was managing. God! I hope I can do what has to be done tomorrow. I guess calling DD was a decision made. I can’t hide this anymore. But I’m so scared of it all. Life as I’ve known it is over. Oh God, I hope and pray that there is still another better one for me yet. Lord, I hope she hasn’t called someone! I’m not ready for that. I hope she’s not afraid. I don’t want to make her afraid. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to hurt anybody. Or scare them. It must be terrible to have me for a mother. I hope they will remember the good things I did. That I loved them so much. That before all this I was a good person, or at least I tried to be. I tried, oh how I tried. How did I become so weak?
Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful DD. It was so good to have her here. Help me to not take advantage of her. Give me strength to do what has to be done.
Well, here we are – D-day. I know I have to do this but it doesn’t make it any easier. I have to look at this as a change for something better. But the fear is so strong. I don’t think I’ve been in such agony before. There’s probably more to come. I hope there is still something to work with. Understandable why people stay in abusive relationships. The hell you know is less frightening than the hell you don’t know. I hope we can break down the walls I’ve constructed and find me in there somewhere. Changes, taking chances – these scare me to death, but I guess I have to face up to the fact that what little is left here is just not going to cut it. I don’t know if I lost me or never really had a me to lose. That’s one of the worst parts. Not even knowing if there was anything there in the first place.
I hope poor DD slept, that she believed me when I said I wouldn’t kill myself. I hope she never knows how close I came during the last 4 days. I’m afraid that thought is going to be a fairly frequent companion for a while. I’m not sure if I’ve really met it face to face yet or just felt it hovering over me. I don’t know about this starting over business. I was never too keen on childhood the first time around. Starting at 48 is going to be really hard. But if I don’t do something now, I’m afraid Dr. Death is going to win one of these days. Maybe just to be perverse, I won’t let him get me.
Finally, it’s the light of day now. I feel so sick, so tired. Have to make that call soon. So afraid. Phoned DD; she’s so sweet. So scared. No tears yet. Is the well just dry at the moment? My insides are all shaky. And I hurt. Is the body just catching up to the mind? So scared. So scared. Yet if I turn back now, it might be the end. Have to go forward, no matter how hard. Why is the shame so strong? I’ve been an emotional mess for years, but usually embarrassment was enough. Now there is such deep shame. But I have to do something before I disappear altogether. I need….that is one of the hard ones to admit. I wanted so much to not need, to be strong, to do it alone. I’ve become all the things I tried so hard not to be. Failure everywhere. So afraid. Must avoid oblivion. Somehow I have to find the energy to do what has to be done. Wanting to hide is so strong right now. I’m so exhausted. So ashamed of what I’ve become. So exhausted. Fear, fear of the unknown and fear of the known. My choices are pretty bleak. I’m afraid to go back but afraid to go forward. I think I’m stalling. It would be easy to blame this on a fever. But I doubt that taking my temperature is going to prove anything. I’m shaking from exhaustion, fear, not fever.
It’s like poison is oozing out of me. I feel like such a disgusting mess. I’m afraid that one unsuspecting breeze could finish me completely. DD thinks that work still has a lot to do with it, but I feel like ALL of this is my fault. Maybe I just don’t have any righteous indignation left. Maybe because I’m more accepting of the fact that I can’t change anybody else, just myself, makes me feel guilty for being so critical and blaming work for everything. Will I ever be able to navigate in the world without constant fear and anger and shame? Will I ever feel like I’m on the same boat as everybody else? I don’t know where I am, where I’m going, where I am even. What a nightmare!
I’m so afraid to talk to anyone. Is my future a padded cell? Here I am, someone who hates change, hates the unknown and yet that’s all I face, at least for the foreseeable future. Can I make it through this tunnel? I don’t know. I think I’m starting to realize I can’t go back, because there’s nothing to go back to, there’s no one there. I’ve left that place. So now I’m nowhere and nowhere is ugly. It’s scary, it’s dangerous, it’s painful, it’s filled with shame and loathing, but I feel like I’m chained here in Nowhere. Everything scares me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell them at work. I can’t talk to anybody there right now. It’s too humiliating
I hope we can find something left, something to work with. There’s got to be something left, something worth preserving. I suspect I’m going to be very sick soon physically, if past history is any indicator.
I hope we can find something left, something to work with. There’s got to be something left, something worth preserving. I suspect I’m going to be very sick soon physically, if past history is any indicator.
Just got back from S’s . It’s going to be a hard road but hopefully I’ll make some progress. Maybe I should give this a rest for a while. S was telling me about a book called “Homesick” by the author of the “Englishman’s Boy”. Just saying the title brought such waves of pain and despair. I so long for someplace I feel whole. My home is my “home”. But I guess I’m homesick for a place where I feel I belong. My home is my refuge, but I’ve used it to hide in for too long. There’s nothing wrong with it being a refuge, but it shouldn’t be a place to hide. Why is it so hard to let people care, to let them be nice to me? Do I really feel so unworthy? Obviously!! Why can’t I feel entitled? I have as much right to happiness as anyone else. But I’m probably assuming way too much. Most people are probably not as “happy” as I think they are. Maybe they’ve just developed better coping mechanisms.
Lord, help me to be able to reach out to DS without upsetting him. Help me to understand what I’m doing.
Give me the strength to call A, to be able to enjoy her friendship and return it, to accept what she has to offer. Hopefully, I have something to offer to her too.
Let me learn to open myself up to what people and the world have to offer. My protective mechanisms are obviously more than strong enough. I must learn to read myself better, to pick up on people’s overtures of friendship and kindness and allow them to do so.
I have to convince myself that if I get hurt, I won’t break. There is such fear in me of being hurt.
Lucked out. DS called me. I think it was a good conversation, but it’s probably just as well that he didn’t come last night. Still want to try A tonight.
Grateful that DD talked to Mom. One load off my mind, at least for a few days. I wonder if S is pushing me to go back to work as a way of having less time to get into this stuff. As usual, I’m probably over doing it. A part of me knows that it can’t be accomplished in one big painful purge (I only wish it could), but my automatic reaction is to do that. Getting my heart and my head together….they’ve grown so far apart, each operating independently. It’s almost like they’re enemies and they’re using my body to fight the war. Is there such a thing as smart love, smart friendship, smart self-protection? I don’t seem to be able to comprehend “happy medium.” It’s like that concept (& most certainly any related feelings) is not in my genetic make-up.
A part of me fights any act of kindness. I have a tendency to see things in one dimension. Maybe that’s my problem too. I see myself in parts, not as a whole. Perhaps my feelings are so painful I want to excise them.
This writing has been therapeutic but the tendonitis and/or arthritis is getting pretty bad; fingers, arm, shoulders, neck, into the back. Maybe this is something I can try to use common sense on….use my head and what my body tells me to do the right thing.
Called A; glad that I did. She is a good friend. In her own way, I think she was trying to tell me that things blindside her too and how hard it can be. I value her friendship, it’s just that we react so differently. Showing emotion is not part of her make-up or her heritage. I have to remember though, that she feels these things too or at least similar things. Much of the difference is in the outward manifestation or lack thereof. We relate on quite a few levels; single parenthood for one. I must learn to appreciate the commonalities and not let the differences get in the way. I have to remember that differences are just that, not right or wrong, just different. When I see a trait in someone that I wish I had (at least a little bit), I take the lack of it in myself as a shortcoming in me and end up blaming myself for not having it. At the same time I am critical of people that don’t have some of the traits I think they should have. Not fair. But I guess that’s not surprising since I’m not exactly fair with myself either. As S reminded me today, my strengths are also my weaknesses. And I must learn to take that further, to extend it to others. Perhaps A’s difficulty with expressing her motions causes her trouble, like my being too emotional causes me trouble….
Well, I guess I better have a hot pack after all. Trying to sleep didn’t work the first time around. I think I’m probably a little over-tired. Time to try again.
Signals. Big area. Must learn to read my own signals and those of others. How do you open yourself up? Must ask S. After my stress leave, I seemed to be able to be sweeter, kinder, less defensive and sarcastic. This all lasted quite a while. Do I just starting shutting down as the bs factor accumulates? Obviously, unless I win the lottery, I’m not going to be able to get away from the bs factor. The world is full of it. How do I start to learn to recognize when the bs factor is getting too big? Unfortunately, I shut myself down to try and not let it get to me. While a healthy dose of self-preservation is OK, how can I learn to know the danger signals for myself? I’m obviously getting ahead of myself here. I still don’t know how to open up, to listen and recognize the good things. On top of that, I have to face the fact that a lifetime of reactions to things is never gong to go away. I’m such an extremist! Be a little nice to me, give me a little hope and I swing too far the other way. Could I possibly be manic/depressive? This whole process is so subtle and I’m so afraid of failure.
Called Mom today; she’s really got a bad cold. Hope she’ll be OK. Couldn’t talk too long. I think I believe in God. My faith is not what it should be. So I don’t know why it irritates me so much when Mom starts in on it. In a way I envy her faith but with her I equate it with weakness or that she uses it in a way I interpret as weak. She’s really incredibly strong in many ways. I know this sounds so terrible, but it sometimes seems that less educated, less cerebral people seem to have a stronger faith. Mother is strong enough to be selfless; I, on the other hand, am so wrapped up in self and what that means. Perhaps part of my irritation is jealousy. Perhaps it’s because I feel we inhabit such different worlds. Maybe I’ve always been angry, felt hard done by because I’ve never felt like I’ve chosen all this. Working, single parenthood. But how free is anyone to make these kinds of choices. Life just sometimes happens to you and you have to deal with it as best you can. Mother’s position now must be much like mine when G left. And it must be just that much harder when you’re older. I know how set in my ways I am. She’s had a total change in her life. It would have been tough enough if Dad had a less abrasive character. But the stroke magnifying his worst traits sure added much more stress. Whether it’s love, a sense of duty, fear of being alone or whatever reason, she’s at least giving it all she has. I doubt if I could do what she is doing. I think part of the stress on me is my guilt at the way I feel about Dad, my guilt at not being able to feel anything for him except irritation or anger. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, when he seems lost or confused. And I also probably recognize some of his less attractive traits in myself. Families sure can be complicated!!
I wonder where this sudden exhaustion came from, slight fever too? Probably just the body reacting to the last five days. Could feel rough for a while. Sure hope I have a good sleep tonight.
This is not going well. Went to work today. Had a mild panic attack. Couldn’t breathe. I hurt so much in my shoulders and my chest. I don’t know what’s harder, people being nice (& they are) or my feeling like I don’t know what to say, how to react. And shame, why so much shame?? I don’t know if I can be here. Well, I automatically react badly just because that’s what I always do. Have I been making a fool of myself all these years? How long is all this going to keep on happening? New load of tears seems to have appeared. I hate it! hate it! Shame, hide, shame, hide.
How can I grow when I feel like just a breath of air will send me back to last week-end’s hell.
I can’t seem to get a handle on anything. Everything is slipping and I can’t get a grip. I’m trying so hard not to fall down that nothing else seems to exist. The wanting to give up is so strong.
Why do I see people being nice as pity? It’s so hard to accept the good in anything. Right away it gets twisted into something I despise.
Work was fine before anybody showed up. And then it was like I froze. I didn’t know how or I couldn’t react. Anything I said or did involving a human reaction felt phony and somehow inappropriate. Yet I know I didn’t do anything outrageous.
My thoughts are so fragmented today. I wish I could treat work like doing the dishes, something that has to be done, but no big deal.
Perhaps a padded cell is a good idea. I could scream, hit, throw myself around until everything was out.
The more I allow myself to feel, to try and work all this out, the more ashamed I am about things I’ve done in the past, not so much actions, but reactions, how stupid and overblown they were. How pathetic they were. And that just freezes me. I can’t move. I’m tight and brittle. Tighter and tighter and then it’s just going to turn to dust.
my own melodrama. This is so ****ed!
I can’t believe all this. It’s like I can’t face anyone I know. I feel ashamed. I want to apologize for everything I’ve done. Why so much same? What do I feel so ashamed about? Maybe because whoever other people knew wasn’t really me. It was all some big lie, like they never really knew me because I wasn’t real. THIS is real and it’s terrible.
I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or embarrassed or inconvenienced. I’m not fit for me, how can I be fit for anyone else.
I thought I wanted to be put away but now it might happen and I don’t want it to.
How can I so totally lose myself? Was there never anything of substance there in the first place?
A part of my mind knows there is nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for at least nothing to cause these feelings and yet those are my feelings; excruciatingly strong! Overpowering, totally obliterating me.
I know in my head what needs to be done, but I just can’t do it. I can’t move! I’m not stupid, just crazy! I’m starting to think being stupid but sane would be preferable, but even though my mind is filled with all this whatever, it’s the only part of me I seem to be able to accept as having any worth.
Maybe I better start hiding this thing or they’ll certify me for sure. My humor may have saved me till now, but I even feel bad about that. My humor is pretty mean, insulting, definitely not nice. Oh it gets laughs all right, but maybe I never really listened to the sound, the real sound of that laughter.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/18/2009 10:59:45 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Oct 99 continued
It’s been nice not to cry today, but mind always racing nonetheless. I’m always trying to think of what I should be doing to make myself better, better equipped to deal with life. It’s hard to get past wanting simple, concrete answers, steps I can take. It’s hard to get my mind around more ephemeral concepts, learning to read myself and the situations I’m in. I put up the protective wall so automatically. Understanding or accepting that some self-protection is good and mixing that with giving, acceptance, feeling, openness is a real tough one for me. It’s odd because I let myself get emotionally involved by books and movies, words, other people’s situations. I’ve become a stranger to myself. I’ve preprogrammed my reactions until they are automatic; all relating to self-preservation, more like self-protection. How do you learn to go with the flow and still know when self-protection is really needed? I spend so much energy imagining possible scenarios, worrying about things that might or might not happen, preparing myself for hurt or pain or cruelty that often never actually comes. I suppose that’s part of the problem – so busy expecting and preparing for disaster or hurt that I can’t live in the moment or maybe not at all. The self preservation instinct certainly has a value, using your mind to plan ahead is certainly good in healthy doses. But I’m so busy worrying about possible or future pain, hurt, betrayal that I can hardly recognize goodness or friendship when it’s staring me in the face. How do you acquire a healthy dose of skepticism with acceptance and trust? I’m so worried I’ll be hurt. I don’t know why I’m so paranoid; it’s really not that often that I’ve been betrayed or hurt by others. And yet those instances are seared into me. Do I beat myself up in an effort to try to build up a thick skin? Perhaps, but it’s left me with layers of scar tissue I have to slough off, to let new skin grow. Maybe it’s more like I’ve been picking off scabs my whole life and not allowed things to heal. Sometimes it seems that it would be easier to be able to have a “new” me. Trying to change, adapt, bring into perspective what there is of me seems so unlikely, so discouragingly difficult that it really is frightening. Balance, moderation and similar terms are only something I can deal with on an impersonal basis. Maybe that’s why my humor is so filled with irony and scarcasm. The old saying “don’t laugh too hard or you’ll end up crying” seems to have stuck itself into me. In a similar vein “life is what you make it” sounds logical and rational, but the application, the absorption……
My body hurts so badly. Left hand feels crippled. Right shoulder, upper chest and back hurt so bad. It makes me feel so sad. When I let my arms hang down and lower my shoulders, it feels like my arms will fall off. Like there is a vice around the upper part of my chest and back. I sure hope I sleep well tonight.
I worry that a lifetime of habits and reactions will be stronger than any power I may have to change them. I know I’m afraid to fail. I’m glad I didn’t tell DS I would come there this weekend. My range of good thoughts and good intentions is very short indeed. It would almost be a relief to be physically ill, nothing too serious. Enough to feel justified in feeling sorry for myself for a while, to let others take care of me. Peace like a river. Floating in warm water. Wraps the body in gentle waves. Muffles the outside sounds. Why is it that so many of the worst thoughts and feelings come at night? And yet there is something comforting about the dark. Perhaps it’s the quietness.
How will I ever learn to feel in touch with myself? Part of me sits there watching me, like the rest of me doesn’t belong. Somehow the two have to work together. Floating like a river. A river bends and turns, but keeps on going. Sometimes it rages and overflows its banks. But the journey continues, even though the riverbed sometimes changes. Maybe I’m just overflowing my banks, trying to forge a new route. The river metaphor is really quite fitting. Sometimes though, even rivers dry up and then it just becomes a trickle. It doesn’t have enough strength to keep flowing. Flowing – such a pretty word. I’ve been trying to go against the flow. Somehow I have to turn around and let the river carry me along. So hard to do though why I don’t know. All I have to do is turn around and let the river (life) take me. But I’ve been turned so that I’m fighting against it, like it is something to be fought, not accepted; the idea of turning around and letting it flow is so very scary, certainly attractive in many ways, but scary. Must remember the river meets obstacles, mostly going over and around them, sometimes knocking the obstacles away, but sometimes it has to pull in the sides to get through a narrow canyon, but the key is that it adapts and keeps flowing. Sometimes it hits something that pushes it back but it usually finds a way around it. But it always flows. Have I been facing against the flow in some urge to go back to the beginning? Perhaps hoping to find the spot where the direction got twisted? But you can’t do things over. But surely we can learn from the past, but we must take the lesson and keep on flowing. I study the problem so hard, but lessons don’t seem to be learned. I build up wrongs, pain and everything bad and don’t seem capable of learning what the lesson is (whatever it may be) and then continue on the journey.
So tired, so very tired. I feel so stymied, stuck. It’s so hard to know where to start. The tight bands of tension feel like that’s what’s holding me together. Loosening, together with the physical pain, makes me feel like I’m losing balance, losing control. My powers of description aren’t very good at the moment. Much tingling in my hands.
I wonder if I’ll even be able to recognize danger signals in myself. It’s hard to make yourself do things when (a) you really don’t know if you will enjoy it and (b) on a reaction basis, don’t want to. But somehow I must learn that to belong you have to participate. I must remember that the things I go overboard on have their good side too. It’s this moderation thing I can’t seem to recognize or feel. My feelings seem to be either painful or non-painful. I don’t know if I can recognize feeling good. Those movements I made today as exercise felt kind of nice. Trying to feel “flowing”, “smooth”. I need to learn how to relax, to flow. Slow, sweeping movements, gentle. Must become more conscious of my breathing, slow and deep, keep my shoulders down. Relaxation techniques, calming techniques are, I think, may be more what I need.
Why is it I can be so perceptive about others but not about myself? The part of me that seems to stand outside and watch, why can’t it be more helpful? But then again, I suppose I should try and make it more a part of myself. What kind of eyes are these that only see the down side? When I do see the good, it seems to move me so much. Where did I learn this?
November 99
Such terrible nothingness. Constant litany of “I don’t know.” Head shaking “no”. Helplessness or hopelessness; are they the same? Scared. Everything hurts, everything is too much effort. Why can’t I paint pretty pictures in my head? Just dreariness. Sometimes nothingness is worse than the pain. I wish I had the extra breath to scream. How do you start over? Why am I hanging on? What am I hanging on to? Does trying to understand the past help the future? Why have I always felt so alone? Not lonely but just alone? But then we are all alone in some way or another. Where did Andrea get her self-assurance? What a mess I’ve become. I either protect myself with a covering of steel or I feel like an open wound. Why can’t I remember the good? Feel good things? Think good things? Recognize good things? Accept good things? Do I try to control the world around me so I don’t have to feel? I must be an embarrassment to DD because I’m a bad house-keeper. The only way I could avoid her wedding is by being dead. Might be preferable.
Random acts of kindness. They’re nice but do they mean anything? That’s what I feel when someone is nice to me. I’m their good deed for the day.
S implied this could happen many times. Right away my defenses went up. I’m not even through this one and to think my future holds more of this same is more than I can bear. If that’s what my future holds, then maybe there shouldn’t be one.
Back hurting bigtime! Keep trying to take my walks but can’t get very far. I look like some crippled old lady by the time I get back and I’m only going a couple of blocks. Of course, tendonitis really bad too.
What in the world is happening to me today? Such a terrible dream. Such anger at Mom; unbelievable. This is so scary again. I woke up today feeling low and it just kept getting worse. Lay down, cried and finally slept, than this horrible dream. Somehow this book of Dr. L's is upsetting me too. What is it about that upsets me? It talks about compartmentalizing. I thought that was part of my problem. And it’s cold. Logic and action. Why does all that offend me. I know I haven’t gotten very far into the book yet but it seems cold and very male. You worry because your stupid, logic and action solves everything. I thought I ended up this way because I lost touch with myself. Of course I worry and I do have trouble letting go of the past. I don’t know why but this all is just making me mad and making me feel hopeless again.
Obviously, I’m very angry and very hurt. Why does this all upset me so? Or am I just afraid I can’t do it? Why are we here if that’s what it’s all about. Push down your feelings, your emotions, write out the problem, possible solutions, pick the best and into the breach. I thought I was supposed to be trying to get my heart and my head together, not kill the heart again.
“...because emotions of worry, fear, hate, jealousy, and envy are driven by primeval vigor and the dynamic energy of the jungle. Such emotions are so violent that they tend to drive out of our minds all peaceful, happy thoughts and emotions.” - Does this mean that life is one big quest to outrun these things? If that’s the case, what's the point???!!
December 99
What a lousy day. This just isn’t worth it! Why bother! Can’t do it today, have to get it together for tonight. Let DD go on her little holiday thinking all is fine. I hate myself, hate the world, feel like I can’t cope with anything anymore. Waste of time, waste of energy, wasted life. Maybe I am really psycho. I want to hurt, maim and kill. Nothing I do is right or good. I hurt from the outside in and the inside out. I don’t know how to deal with stuff. Life just isn’t worth it anymore. What’s the point? I’m just a pathetic mess! What’s there to look forward to? What a world, where people don’t think it necessary to speak the truth, to act honorably. How can I go back to that? I just don’t know what to do. Oh God, please God, help me. Help me to have faith that you will love me and take care of me, will lead me in the right direction. Please, dear Lord, please!
Will all this dark stuff ever cease to come oozing out? I don’t know who to share this with. I hate being weak, being a burden and an embarrassment. I’m so ugly inside and out. I don’t know if there’s any goodness left in me. This dark stuff is killing me and it seems never ending. I wish it could be surgically removed or I could pour it all out.
January 2000
I’ve been so blessed. A couple of really tough weeks after Christmas. But BF (dear friend from Toronto) came and with her came what I needed! Yesterday was the best day I’ve had in years. Seeing S that day helped me to see and realize what BF had given me. I’m not fooling myself. I know I have lots of hard work ahead of me. Somehow she helped me to cross over the “saying goodbye” line. I accepted her unconditional love and her strength and could express and feel so deeply the love in me for her. She opened my heart so that I can begin to receive and give. She helped me and brought me closer to being able to see the future (that it’s my job to make it be a good one). I’ve taken that first step to looking forward and for me it was becoming a perhaps hopeless concept. So much is good about yesterday. It was a landmark day in many ways:
1. Talking to S allowed me to clarify what BF had done for me. It also allowed me the opportunity to express my thanks to S. It was being able to give something back and it felt so good!
2. BF's being here gave me the encouragement and strength to call R.
3. R was wonderfully supportive.
4. B (office manager) called and was very supportive
5. DD, BF and I had a wonderful evening.
6. I bought my bathing suit.
I’ve been blessed. Thank you Lord and give the strength for the journey ahead!
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/19/2009 11:03:17 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Writing about this period of my life nine years later is really weird. I suspect I should be careful about what I say about my employer (even though I no longer work there). Therefore, I am going to try to generalize the things that were weighing on my mind early in 2000. I think it's necessary in order to express my world view, my perception of the environment that I would be returning to. With some distance in time, I suspect that my perceptions would have been the same no matter where I worked since some things are common to most workplaces. I'm not even sure if this speaks to whether an employer is good or bad (because there is good and bad in every workplace). For me, the problem is my inability to perceive things in a better light, to ignore, or learn how to deal with the "yuck" that is so real and evident in the world.
So here we go again.
April 2000
Seems to be conundrum time again. Scared about work, whether to get a new job, go back to the old, try part-time. Scares me. Last month or so has been pretty rough. I can’t seem to see a future. It all seems to be too much effort. Still keeping at swimming/weights/yoga but still no real energy burst. Back is really bad. Can’t imagine working and doing all the exercise. I just don’t have the stamina for it all. Wonder often when I should do it? now, before wedding or after? Working on new will, better get it signed soon. Meeting with S last week relieved some of the pressure. No hope, no future, no money, no friends (not really, but feels that way sometimes). Why do I get so enraged at the cruelty and stupidity in the world? Just getting through the day now takes all I have (although better than the first couple of months). There’s so much I don’t understand. I don’t know how to deal with the cruelty and stupidity of the work place. I feel I have to harden myself against what’s there. But hardening myself is just going to push me down. Don’t know how to open myself up and yet protect myself. It goes so deeply against something in me to just turn aside. Why does everything touch me so deeply? It appears that you have to keep busy but don’t think too much. It seems like the only way to survive is to keep running, keep busy, don’t dwell on yourself or anything else too much. I can’t seem to get through to myself that I must recognize what I can change, what I can’t, to do what I can and accept what I can’t. It all just seems to be some huge cruel, stinking game. When I’m with others, I can’t seem to stop deprecating myself. I don’t know what balance is or how to get it. It’s all just too exhausting. Feels like I haven’t learned anything. Just taking up space.
What makes working environments such living hell? For all the articles I read, human resource management material, why is it that people/employees have so little value? Yet at the same time, all in all W's been good to me, yet I soak up all the inequities and inequalities.
Major Defects
1. No written policies
2. No communication
3. No real leadership
4. A poisonous snake on the loose, given free reign to bite whomever she pleases.
I suppose the positive thing is to be sure that I:
1. Stick to my own policies.
2. Communicate.
3. Show leadership by example.
4. Don’t be a snake.
It is my strong belief that:
1. Any emloyer must have written consistent policies. There are always going to be exceptions, but if exceptions are handled properly, staff will generally back each other. Without consistent policies, staff end up feeling defensive, always on guard for some attack and always uncomfortable and off kilter. Perhaps this is the aim.
My friend A (who has cancer and chooses to live her life as normally as possible) has always done more of everything. Every system we have in place was set up by her. She did this of her own free will, but every staff member realizes how important and helpful these systems are. Now they are allowing untrained people to mess them up. They won't realize what they are losing until it's gone (idiots!)
One evening she ended up doing a rush job that kept her at work until 11:00 PM. NO THANK YOU or acknowledgement was received. Then they have the gaul to encourage loyalty and working together, blah, blah, blah. Some staff have been told their jobs aren't important. Then why take on the work? This is supposed to inspire enthusiasm and loyalty? What a crock!
A staff member was told by her doctor that she needs to be off work for at least a month for intensive daily therapy (extreme pain in shoulders, arms, hands etc). She was told she couldn’t have sick leave, had to use her holidays or other than that, she was out of luck. By law, this can’t be done without written agreement by both parties. When she called Labor Standards they said the employer would have to provide a copy of the written policy on the matter. GUESS WHAT? There is no written policy! When she approached her immediate boss for some assistance, he said no, he didn’t want to tangle with Medusa (office manager). INTEGRITY OF A RAT. She decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and quit not having received a dime.
Backtracking, in respect of policies, I would think it would be understood that written policies are not written in stone. Discretion and circumstances must decide their application. Policies should be guidelines. What must also be understood. Most people will follow policies of they are written. They provide a structure and a guide for conduct. They save the stress and anxiety caused by “fly by the seat of your pants” management. Once in place and available to ALL, it also saves management the time and energy and the aggravation of having to deal with a large percentage of crises engendered by the lack of policies. Just like everything else in life, there will surely be some people who will try to take advantage, but probably not to the current extent. It is also essential that any changes to policy be communicated ASAP.
2. This leads into the second point – COMMUNICATION. Everything is either out of the blue, by rumor or innuendo. Medusa is famous for giving different stories to different people about any particular point. Managements communication with staff is pretty much nil. It is counterproductive to horde information about files. It results in work having to be redone, more mistakes being made and is frankly an insult to the staff member who is expected to do the work. Our time is just as valuable to us as theirs is to them. I would think it obvious that a free flow of information is to everyone’s benefit. If a senior staff member requests information or consultation with the responsible lawyer, it is vital that a response be received. Many bosses experts at not dealing with things they don’t want to be bothered with. Abdication of responsibility is common. Many staff members take pride in their work and want only to do a good job. However, having obstacles placed in your path is very stressful, needlessly so. It seems that the busiest are always made more busy and the lazy ones continue to get away with doing much less. Many bosses unfortunately are poor at organizing their work load. Things are not attended to until they are a panic. It is then dumped on a staff member in a huff, expecting her to perform miracles. The business is stressful enough without adding poor planning, non-communication and no cooperation. Why such smart people cannot see the benefits of good management is totally beyond me. Working TOGETHER is generally a foreign concept Most bosses seem to think that teamwork is the boss being the coach (and not a very good one at that) and the staff member (not the singular form of the word) being the whole team rolled into me.
That's the end of journal notes for now.
My friend A (who had worked for the firm for 20+ years finally put in her resignation. Her health was failing and she wanted to go back east to spend time with her family. For once, the firm did the right thing. I attended a luncheon they had in her honor during the early part of June.
I returned to work in mid-June of 2000. The devil I knew was easier to return to then the devil I didn't know (a knew workplace). My DD had gotten engaged in February and her wedding was to take place in October of 2000. I had been off work for seven months. Was I ready to go back? Who knows. I sure don't.
I almost didn't make it the first week. I was supposed to start back working three days a week. The first file on my desk was from another senior partner. It was an immensely complicated file. It consisted of numerous properties around the country, various cross collaterlized security etc. It would easily take a week just to get all the searches and review them. In the normal course I would love a file like this, but to top it all off, it was a rush. They wanted to sign documents on the weekend. Talk about Monty Python!!  I guess people who don't seem crazy can be crazy. By the second day I spoke to R (my boss) and told him how ridiculous this was. He certainly agreed, but at the moment he was busy on another complicated file. I did the best I could with it and let R run interference for me. It was consoling to know that it took a couple of months before they were ready to sign on this file.
Life got back to normal (whatever that is) in the ensuing weeks. By the end of July I was back full time and life just was.
My friend A passed away in August. Many tears were shed. I miss her to this day. She was an immensely strong, intelligent woman. She could appear somewhat intimidating as she had the natural reserve that came with her background. But over the years we had become good friends and I hope that she felt as blessed as I did by our friendship.
|
|
|
|
RE: Musings and Stuff - 8/20/2009 10:55:52 PM
|
|
|
Bountiful
Posts: 786
Joined: 12/15/2008
Status: online
|
Had a pretty good day today; got quite a lot accomplished (at least for me it was quite a lot). But I am pretty tired this evening. I think all the blogging I've been doing recently has taken a lot out of me as well. So perhaps I'll back off for a little bit. I have now actually read through the whole "Mental Health Encouragement" thread, all 220+ pages. I don't know if I will take part or not. I have some questions I would like to put out there, but it might be considered more applicable to the debate thread and I don't want to go there. Guess I'll have to think about it.
The following poem states what so often has been on my heart:
PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM NOT SAYING
Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks -
Masks that I’m afraid to take off
And none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that’s second nature to me
But don’t be fooled, for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
Within as well as without,
That confidence is my name,
And coolness my game,
That the water’s are calm
And I’m in command
And that I need no one.
But don’t believe me, Please!
My surface may be smooth but my surface is a mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
And fear exposing them.
That’s why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They’re nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
My only salvation,
And I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance
And if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
From my own self-built prison walls,
From the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
Of what I can’t assure myself,
That I’m really worth something.
But I don’t tell you this
I don’t dare.
I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me, that you’ll laugh
And you’re laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid deep down I’m nothing, that I’m just no good
And you will see this
And reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the parade of masks.
The glittering but empty parade of masks
And my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that’s nothing
And nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my routine
Don’t be fooled by what I’m saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear
What I’m not saying.
Hear what I’d like to say
But what I cannot say.
I dislike hiding, honestly.
I dislike the superficial game I’m playing,
The superficial phony game.
I’d really like to be genuine and me
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise.
It will not be easy for you.
Long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
The blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books may say of men, I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
You wonder who I am?
You shouldn’t.
For I am everyman
And everywoman
Who wears a mask.
Don’t be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
|
|
|
|
 New Messages |
 No New Messages |
 Hot Topic w/ New Messages |
 Hot Topic w/o New Messages |
 Locked w/ New Messages |
 Locked w/o New Messages |
|
 Post New Thread
Reply to Message
Post New Poll
Submit Vote
Delete My Own Post
Delete My Own Thread
Rate Posts |
|
|
Forum Tools
Printable Version
. The system sucks and is going to suck even before by the time they finish wrecking it. Hope it's nothing serious.