Now that I wrote one blog post that was more than 20 words, I should probably try to keep it up. Without anything original to write about, I'll pull something from the drafts folder that I had started back in September....
Time is flying by way too quickly. So many days have passed since I last wrote in my blog that I can barely remember what I have and haven't told you all.
One thing hasn't changed - my father's mental and physical health continues to decline. I've lost count of the number of hospital admissions he's had this summer. I've been having a hard time writing about any of them. My fingers can't form words from the thoughts that are swirling around in my head.
Something I read on Carrie's blog the other day, about watching a grandparent slowly die, spoke to me. I almost left a long-winded comment, but remembered that it was HER blog and I probably should save the navel grazing for my own. So here it is. :)
Carrie wrote:
The wait is horrible. There's always that little bit of hope that as long as there is life something could change, even though you know it probably won't. Then you are just waiting for the end and you don't want it to end, but you do want the suffering to end but then you feel guilty and it is just a horrible, emotional, rotten feeling and it isn't fair or right, but who said life was fair or right?
A day or so before reading this, I had tried to explain this very same thing to a friend, only I wasn't able to sum it up as well as Carrie. Seeing my father dying, finding hope on the good days, and feeling guilty for wondering when the suffering will end, on the bad days...all that overwhelming emotion is hard to deal with. Plus, I see my father making choices that are contributing to his own long, drawn-out death. Most of these are life-long habits but a few are more recent. I can't speculate on why he is doing this. The angry side of me has one opinion and the compassionate one, another....
....hmmm....This is harder to write about than I thought. I haven't been able to talk about it either. Most people just don't get it, you know? They may empathize with the long, drawn-out death part, but most can't relate to the "other" stuff. If one more person tells me they know what I'm going through, I just might kick them. Or cry. Probably the latter.
The "other" stuff is the mental-health issues. My father grew up in Na.zi Germany. When I was a teenager, I confided in another adult about some things that had happened in our household. My father beat me because of it. Mental health issues? Only crazy people have those. Any signs that my family has any? Topic
verboten. Enough said.
As a result, I don't feel safe talking or writing about his mental health, which is a big part of his illness and decline (I'm not talking simple depression here). Don't worry, there was a time that I could talk about it and I've had professional help dealing with some issues. Right now, though, talking about it feels like I'm kicking the guy when he's down. Seeing him so vulnerable....seeing him suffer. I see a man who tried hard to give me the life that he never had. I see a human being who wasn't a perfect parent. I can't undo the hurt he caused. I can't change how he thinks or acts (believe me, I've tried hard to reason with him). I only control how *I* think, act and respond
I've tried to learn what I can from my experience and be a more compassionate person myself. I've tried to appreciate the time I have with him. No matter what our past, I need to forgive the things he's done and overlook the things he continues to do. I can't be wrapped up in my own self pity. Life is too short.
That's enough of that topic for a while. :) Let's see...what else is new?
I survived a visit from the in-laws right before school started. By right before school started, I mean up until the day that school started. Ugh. To her credit, my mother-in-law was easier to tolerate than usual, which helped. I have a hard time dealing with her passive-aggressive crap on a good day (why are people like that?) With my father in the hospital at the time, I probably would have lost it while under so much stress. She'll be back the week after Christmas. Joy. :)
The kids started school again and all is going well. We had one slight IEP issue at the beginning of the school year but it was quickly resolved. My older son is finally getting the hang of public school again. I'm still adjusting to the thought of having both a 6th and an 8th grader. Time flies!
The littlest two are doing fantastic! They are an endless source of joy and entertainment. The terrible twos waned just as Little K turned 2 1/2. He's becoming such a little boy. He has a personality so different from his older siblings, yet I can see little bits of each of them at that age in him. He's my most active tot and my biggest. He taller and heavier than his brothers at this age. Where did my baby go? He's almost the same height as his sister and weighs more than she does (by a pound and a half). His personality is complicated. He's serious one minute and silly the next. He runs away from you when you try to hug him, but the next minute he is snuggling in your lap. He's a happy little guy.
Miss E, at 4 years old, is wonderful. I cannot express how different it is to have a daughter. Not better, not more special, just different. I would not trade any of my boys for another girl, mind you. Each and every one of my boys holds a very special, and equal, part of my heart. I love having 3 boys. My 1 girl, though, is different. Maybe I thought she'd be more like me (poor child). If not like me, than like my husband. Not so much. I think maybe she switched in the hospital after birth. (I'm KIDDING!) She's quite a character. I used to write down the cute things my older boys said. I think I'd fill a bookshelf with my daughter's quotes. She is so expressive.
That looks like enough for one post. I should save some of this stuff to write tomorrow when I can't think of anything again :)
