Friday, May 18, 2012

caretaker heal thyself

One of the hallmark behaviors of co-dependents is the thrill of being the go-to person. I mean, if everybody needs you so much, you must be great right? WRONG. Co-dependency is based on a false sense of self, one which boosts the ego at the expense of sanity and basic values. That was me when I was younger...always wanting to be the best and brightest star and everybody's girl. What that has done is literally wear away my identity, the person that I was before everybody else took over and I willingly became a puppet. The greatest gift has been learning to love myself, which may sound conceited to some. To me, it's just a survival tactic. If I don't love myself, how can anybody else? Could explain why I'm still single ten years post divorce. When that last one got stingy and crabby, I swore off men who live in the house. If they want to see me, let 'em call ahead.

I spent some time with my parents this afternoon and they understand that I'm just about at wit's end. The time will come that one of us will be power napping on the couch down there, sharing watch over the elders as they sleep and get up to pee through the night. Making sure somebody doesn't fall or trip the alarm or break a bone. Another injury will necessitate Plan D and I don't have a freakin' clue what that is. One day at a time, girl. One day at a time.

Big Ernie is testing me right now and I can feel it. He knows that I'm a good person, sometimes to a fault, and wants me to be that happy little girl who played in the dirt and rode the hay trailer. The one who politely declined to be defined as the "in crowd" in high school and instead ran around with everybody. My mother was very into high society because her parents had money and lived across from the school campus so their front steps were the gathering spot for my parents' generation and their friends. There were secrets, as in any family, that I never found out about until I became an adult and started a dialogue with my parents, looking to them as historians rather than the ones who take care of me.

At the human services office today we surmised (on the last day before application expiration) that mom is not eligible for medicaid because she has "other" resources. When I look at the complexity of all of it, my mind goes numb. Not sure about the VA and daddy, but I imagine they have their hands full with the walking wounded from the previous and current wars over oil. This man proudly did his duty in the Air Force then proceeded to work for the feds until he retired at 55 from the USDA.

Everywhere I went today after work I was red faced and teary, and I saw the kind side of folks come out to greet me when I paid a couple of bills and scurried on toward the lane. I don't know how I'd handle it if these puppies weren't here to greet me with kisses and whatnot. They get on my nerves sometimes, especially Oscar, but at the end of the day we're all together and then we get up and do it all again.


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