Monday, July 18, 2005

The games we play

Eastham, MA

I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.

Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?

The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!

So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.

I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.

I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1

Friday, July 15, 2005

This is my life??

Eastham, MA

So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.

While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.

I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.

And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.

I still just really miss me, though.