a new kind of feeling

Never in my wildest dreams (as an adult) did I think that I would get to this point with my parents. It never crossed my mind that somewhere down the line they would be still living in that red log cabin where they set up housekeeping 55 years ago. As I sit here typing, listening to Pink Floyd and actually enjoying it, I wonder if I will fight as hard to retain my independence as my mother and father have. Because of their refusal to delegate and simplify, they spend every ounce of energy fighting to keep things the same. Same ways of doing everything, from buying meds and groceries to paying bills. They finally turned over the checking account to my brother and an accountant, but there are still bills coming to them personally that they don't understand and refuse to deal with by closing credit card accounts that they do not need. People on fixed incomes don't need that crap, and when they don't allow us to SEE what is going on, it all turns into a clusterf**k. Their income is plenty to maintain their lifestyle until they die. Why complicate everything??????********#&)

And that new feeling? It is resentment for putting my life on hold for the past few years to allow them to stay at home. It is a 24/7 on call schedule with my brother, my daughter and myself in the rotation. If one of us is working or out of pocket, one of the others jumps into the car and gets it done. We are never ALL out of service at the same time. Ever. For those times, there is angel doll Miss Faye who comes to cook and clean and drive their cab, all for a very modest price. My mother, in particular, is so afraid of running out of money that when I suggested that she get Miss Fay to read to her from the newspaper or church bulletin she proclaimed that she "couldn't afford to pay someone ten bucks an hour to read to her." Why not? That's what she misses the most.....the stories and news that she herself once wrote as a reporter for the local rag. Bad bad daughter, right? Nope...just someone who doesn't have all the answers. And feels guilty for that first burst of negative emotion about where things are with our life.

To me, control as an issue, is a profound manifestation of something seriously missing in the faith department. At least that's what I got out of two years in therapy with some pastoral counseling. The way I understand it is that if you run up across a brick wall doing something or fall in a hole or something, that's a signal to go in a different direction with things. Proactive in a karmic sort of say, ya know? Pavlov's dog proved without a doubt that if there's a treat, the trick will be performed over and over again. But what about pain as a teacher? KY cuzin told me the other day about a mouse that got caught in her trap one night and was still alive when they dumped the garbage the next day. Had a big fat neck like he'd been eating REAL good.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm headed to the porch to work on my toenails. Pool season will be here before ya'll know it!

^j^