It's in the blood
I woke up at 4PM. I did nothing today except wash some dishes, drink iced coffee, knit, watch TV, talk on the phone and snuggle with my mush cat who kept jumping on me and velcro-ing herself to me all day and night. I didn't leave my apartment once, not even to get the mail. I'm feeling overwhelmed. I stay put when I feel like this. My body also aches a lot and I have no energy to deal with anything I want to get done. I have a host of chronic health problems, and depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder...You name it, I probably have it. I can flip through the DSM-IV and find more numbers to put after my name. I did that once, but I got tired. There were too many possible numbers.
I had good intentions for today, even given how late I got up, but then I had four conversations back and forth with my Father on the complete disaster that has become of the house sale. After hearing more bad news, I was feeling quite dismayed, and lost the bulk of my resolve for the day. The family home has been sold but there are issues... Aren't there always? My father has untreated OCD. He is a compulsive hoarder. We have owned this house for 33 years. Use your imagination. Then multiply your worst vision by a hundred and you may have some idea. It gets worse though -- my Father is 74 and is unable to do any of his own packing, purging or cleaning. My older brother, the only sibling I have, will not help. Guess who that leaves? Oh yes grasshopper, it leaves me, number one daughter, responsible. My Mother passed away in 1998. I seem to have been passed her mantle of responsibility, albeit with none of the say-so that comes with being the matriarch.
Half of the things my Dad has done since she has been gone he would have never gotten away with when she was alive. Yes, they had an awful marriage, but somehow in it's own sick, insane, abusive way it worked to keep his disease in check somewhat, because he knew she'd give him hell if he crossed certain unspoken lines. My pleas, threats, and desperate entreaties do not have the same effect that her abuse did. Oh don't misread this, he abused her plenty, and sometimes far worse, but as the years warped their way along, she became just as twisted, perhaps by maintaining her proximity to him, and continuing their sick dance till death did they part.
I feel like I've been left holding the bag of all of the cumulative madness of my family.
I also must humble myself and admit that I have the same disorder my Dad has. I'm not quite as bad and far gone as he is (thank God) but I do have a problem. I have clutter. I have organization problems. I tend to acquire things, and then not know how to manage those items. I buy things even when I'm broke. I get free things from various places. It's a disease. I am overwhelmed by the flow of paper: magazines, circulars, mail, newspapers, junk mail, catalogs, etc. I get crippled and paralyzed when it comes to dealing with these issues. I try very hard, but I get overwhelmed and shut down. I am determined not to end up like my Dad though. I have a tangible, living example of what happens if you let yourself spin completely out of control. I feel this when I look at his physical condition with regard to his size too. He's in really bad shape healthwise, partially because he hasn't taken care of himself for much of his adult life. He's fat. I'm fat. I don't want to end up like him. He has a collection of different canes. We bought him a walker recently. When I take him shopping, he usually rides in those motorized carts at the stores that provide them. He can't drive himself around most days because his knee and hip hurts too much to work the clutch on his manual transmission van.
Well, I suppose that's more than enough information for now, besides which, it's 5AM, and it might be a good idea to get some sleep. This is certainly not an edifying post. However, my cat just jumped on me, and she's purring. Thank you God for black cats.
I had good intentions for today, even given how late I got up, but then I had four conversations back and forth with my Father on the complete disaster that has become of the house sale. After hearing more bad news, I was feeling quite dismayed, and lost the bulk of my resolve for the day. The family home has been sold but there are issues... Aren't there always? My father has untreated OCD. He is a compulsive hoarder. We have owned this house for 33 years. Use your imagination. Then multiply your worst vision by a hundred and you may have some idea. It gets worse though -- my Father is 74 and is unable to do any of his own packing, purging or cleaning. My older brother, the only sibling I have, will not help. Guess who that leaves? Oh yes grasshopper, it leaves me, number one daughter, responsible. My Mother passed away in 1998. I seem to have been passed her mantle of responsibility, albeit with none of the say-so that comes with being the matriarch.
Half of the things my Dad has done since she has been gone he would have never gotten away with when she was alive. Yes, they had an awful marriage, but somehow in it's own sick, insane, abusive way it worked to keep his disease in check somewhat, because he knew she'd give him hell if he crossed certain unspoken lines. My pleas, threats, and desperate entreaties do not have the same effect that her abuse did. Oh don't misread this, he abused her plenty, and sometimes far worse, but as the years warped their way along, she became just as twisted, perhaps by maintaining her proximity to him, and continuing their sick dance till death did they part.
I feel like I've been left holding the bag of all of the cumulative madness of my family.
I also must humble myself and admit that I have the same disorder my Dad has. I'm not quite as bad and far gone as he is (thank God) but I do have a problem. I have clutter. I have organization problems. I tend to acquire things, and then not know how to manage those items. I buy things even when I'm broke. I get free things from various places. It's a disease. I am overwhelmed by the flow of paper: magazines, circulars, mail, newspapers, junk mail, catalogs, etc. I get crippled and paralyzed when it comes to dealing with these issues. I try very hard, but I get overwhelmed and shut down. I am determined not to end up like my Dad though. I have a tangible, living example of what happens if you let yourself spin completely out of control. I feel this when I look at his physical condition with regard to his size too. He's in really bad shape healthwise, partially because he hasn't taken care of himself for much of his adult life. He's fat. I'm fat. I don't want to end up like him. He has a collection of different canes. We bought him a walker recently. When I take him shopping, he usually rides in those motorized carts at the stores that provide them. He can't drive himself around most days because his knee and hip hurts too much to work the clutch on his manual transmission van.
Well, I suppose that's more than enough information for now, besides which, it's 5AM, and it might be a good idea to get some sleep. This is certainly not an edifying post. However, my cat just jumped on me, and she's purring. Thank you God for black cats.
posted by scribe at 8/18/2005
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