Reading List

Currently on the bedside table reading list:

Start Where You Are, A Guide to Compassionate Living ~ Pema Chodron

One Minute Mindfulness ~ Donald Altman

Re-reading:

A New Earth ~ Eckhart Tolle

I am my own authority, I love and approve myself, life is good. A friend who has a good insight to my struggles gave me that affirmation recently. Seems to be having an effect.

Things I've accomplished this week:

Saw the doctor about my wrist; it's only a ganglion cyst, not the return of the godawful joint inflammation.

Scheduled appointment for next week to have this century's version of a pelvic exam.

Found something to wear to LeeLee and Keef's wedding. Thank You God. You created black pants for the fuller figure.

Took said pants to Honorable Asian Tailor for slight shortening. He was in a cheerful mood.

Bravely ventured into Kodak store and learned to print out digital pictures. How accomplished I feel, and I finally have a picture of Tyler in a frame!

Went to breakfast at Cafe du Bois with Sarah. Poached egg en croustade and fresh fruit. Beautiful morning for restoring friendship.

Emailed bridge group to be here for November on the 30th...better late than never. By that time we'll have Thanksgiving to report on and there will be two new babies.

Only half a class of document based questions left to grade and I'll be finished for this grading period. Hooray!

Long day, short night, off to read in bed.

Hurting, Hiding, Healing

This has been a season of hurting. Mother has had her fractured spine, with so much pain for so many weeks. It appears that she is on the mend following surgery, and now a new fracture has taken place to add to the hurt.
I've had a sad disagreement with my daughter who is expecting a baby any minute. I know that this is hormonal and that she wouldn't ordinarily say the things she has said to me, but that knowledge isn't much of  a shield against the pain of being accused of being a "pain".
She seems to think that I'm too difficult to deal with in her present circumstances, accusing me of being needy and demanding. I offered to go and be with her because I thought I might be of help and I just wanted to be nearer to her. She said no thanks and, really for the first time, clearly told me what they had planned for Sloan's care during and after the birth of the baby. I read her plan, admittedly felt unnecessary, and wrote her back an email that was meant to be sassy about now having the picture, and that the straight forward communication was better than round about avoidance of saying anything outright  that we both inherited from our fathers.
This is evidently where things started to go wrong. She has used the word terse about my response. And Friday afternoon when she thought she was in labor she claimed  I was "getting back at her" because I was at happy hour with the teachers and didn't hear the phone in my purse until the second time she called.
She had been thinking she was in labor since 11:30 in the morning, but waited until 4:00 in the afternoon to call me. It takes four hours to drive to Dallas if you are pulling away from the pump at the Exxon station. My thought was that she could have given a girl a head's up that something might be happening earlier in the day.
While trying to express these thoughts I became the conflict she could no longer bear. She told me just not to come and hung up the phone.
Now it is Sunday morning and our last exchange was yesterday morning by accusing and apologetic text message... that's close communication. I've felt worse, but only when someone has died. She is about to have this baby and feels all this conflict with her own mother. No comfort, no caring, no help. She doesn't want my help until she wants it. She pushes me away with one hand and then is angry with me when I don't come close enough to hold the other hand.
My hope is that when her actual labor does happen, she will relent and call me to come. But I'm preparing myself for the event that it doesn't happen that way. I feel withdrawn and pulled into my shell of emotional protection. Rejection is my biggest fear. I've been rejected by her father, please don't let her reject me too.
But it can happen. I know that now, but I've also been on a long journey of learning that I am entitled to my own thoughts and feelings. Being kind and accommodating doesn't have to include complete denial of self. If even these people who are dearest in all the world to me, aren't willing to accept me for who I am, then maybe I am truly alone in the world. But I must have the power to claim my place, to own my feelings, to be present in my own life, to ask for what I need and actually expect to be heard.

As Bad As It Gets

This is a week that won't go away and that I will not soon forget. Here in the filling of the mother/daughter sandwich that is me, I've been waiting on both ends for long enough to be tired of the wait. Now mother is home from the hospital and evidently recovering nicely. Yesterday I left school thinking that I had all the loose ends tied up and praying that the grand baby would be born this weekend...how convenient that would be, right on schedule.
There was no word yesterday from the baby watch, so after school I made arrangements to go for Mexican therapy. About 4:00 I missed a call from a phone buried in my purse while sitting in a noisy restaurant.
Then I missed a text. The third call I heard and when I picked up the problem started. She thinks she's in labor, I know I've had two margaritas.
Last weekend we had been through a discussion of her belief that I should not head that way until morning if the labor began late. This wasn't late, but I would have had to do some packing and sober up before I could hit the road. I decided without much thought that I'd just sit tight and go in the morning.
I don't know for sure what all her gripe involves. I know that my problem is feeling kept at arm's length. The vibe is just cool and we'll whistle when we need you, so I admit to feeling a little left out. Evidently that makes my written communication seem like retaliation. She said that she felt I was trying to get back at her.
She also said that I am problematically needy, demanding and have to have everything my way. Then, here comes the hard part, she said that she just didn't want me to come. She said that she couldn't have this conversation right now and she hung up.
I haven't heard from her since. I contacted her mother in law to see if the baby had been born. She said it was false labor and thought they had slept through the night. I sent an apology very early this morning and haven't heard anything back.
This is miserable, truly miserable. And I have no one to blame but myself. I don't know how old I will have to be to finally grow up and handle things the right way. Hell, I don't even know what the right way is.

Sandwiched In

What a week this has been. School was busy and three days I had people in my room observing something. Twice it was a student teacher doing observation, another time the Academic Lead Teacher from my department, and then two assistant principals showed up in my level class on Thursday.
I've been trying to put things together for a substitute to use when I'm gone for the birth of my new grandson. But, it's hard to do when you're not sure exactly when you'll be needing the sub. Tyler, this is Memom...don't come until after Open House and Gigi's surgery on Tuesday.
The schedule is for Mother to go into St. Joseph's hospital on Tuesday and have cement injected into the spine between disks to give her some relief from the pain she has been in. She's pretty anxious about how all this is going to go, and I had never said that I would be able to take off and be with her. She thought I'd just leave this up to my brother, but I won't. She'll feel better if I go along too.
Last night I missed Kate and Tom's 40th anniversary party because Mother was in a lot of pain, she was emotionally exhausted and she was full of narcotic pain reliever. I couldn't possibly have left her. But I found myself feeling irritable and crabby with Jean when she called to find out why I wasn't there. I felt resentful that there was this expectation that one would not have any reason to miss the occasion.Who put her in charge of policing social obligations?
I do feel better tonight after getting those damned Federal Mandate Projects graded and recorded. I've been carrying them around for a week. I graded papers for my level class tonight and I have to give grades for the political ideology assignments the AP kids emailed to me. Then, I'm closing out the six weeks and I'll be good to go if Tyler comes before the six weeks actually ends on Friday.
Getting the laundry done, the groceries bought and the house tidied up just the slightest bit has helped my mood too. I find that being mentally and emotionally caught between Mother and Berit, between work and home, and between friends and family has to be about as uncomfortable a situation as I've ever experienced.
I find that my attention is short and my focus is fuzzy no matter what I'm trying to do. I don't consciously worry about any of this, but my subconscious evidently hasn't gotten word not to fret. My left wrist has a a huge not on the underside and sometimes hurts like hell. I feel tired pretty much all the time.
I'm trying to get some exercise and yesterday and today I popped in the ear buds and went to town for thirty minutes on the gazelle. Broke a sweat even. Then I even did a little therapeutic knitting and watched some football.
Mother feels better today I can tell. I bought her a transport chair today at the drugstore. Now she won't have to worry about walking from the car to the hospital on Tuesday. There's nothing like being able to relieve some one's anxiety about a thing like that...best $119. 99 I ever spent.

Now if I can just make it through Open House, pack a go bag, get Mother home from her ordeal and get ready for the next week of school before the call comes to head to Dallas....I'll be fine. I will, really...fine. No problem.

Tortilla Soup

Yesterday it was cloudy and that kept the temperature below triple digits. It may still be summer on the thermometer, but it's September, it's football season and it's time to cook. Got out the Calphlon wonder pot and simmered up some tortilla soup.

1 package boneless, skinless chicken thighs
water
onion
celery
salt and pepper
Cook chicken until tender. Remove chicken and set aside to cool.
Season chicken stock with:
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
Add to stock:
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 can chipotle white corn
1 can crushed tomatoes
Shred chicken and return to pot.
Simmer to develop flavor.
Serve with tortilla chips, cheese, sour cream, avocado, lime to garnish.

It's Back

About fifteen years ago, I experienced an episode of auto-immune illness that puzzled a myriad of doctors and specialists, who never quite figured out what it was, but treated for the symptoms as if it were rheumatoid arthritis.
At the time I was stuck in a teaching job that I absolutely could not stand, working with people whose neuroses were even worse than my own. I was in a relationship with a man who has come to be known as the Soul Killer, and my youngest had gone off to the Enormous State University and become anorexic. Those were just the big visible tip of my anxiety iceberg. I was also trying to earn some extra money from a $2,500 a year stipend as the Freshman cheerleader sponsor. The job involved a minimum of three after school practices weekly and two football games every Thursday night. In addition you could depend on several phone calls each week from the cheer moms, who were brimming with good ideas, and there was a stunning week's vacation in beautiful Denton, Texas in July for cheer camp at NTSU. The only place hotter than Denton in July is the ninth circle of Hell. Did I mention it was hard to find a place to have a cigarette on the campus, in the dorm or away from the children?
While at Denton, I had my first flare up with the mystery disease. The joint of my left thumb turned violently purple and swelled to twice its normal size. I walked around for days with my prehensile digit stuck in a styrofoam cup of ice.
As the summer turned into fall, the swelling and pain began to travel around from joint to joint. Ankles, knees, wrists, everything got involved. I couldn't put a shoe on my left foot at one point and went to school with a pair of thong sandals which my principal at the time deemed inappropriate foot wear for the classroom. He didn't seem a bit concerned about my deformed ankle.
After many weeks, the Soul Killer finally hooked me up with a rheumatologist he called on professionally as a drug rep. She started me on a course of methotrexate, which ended my wine drinking career and eventually effected a cure for my swelling and pain.
I concluded quite independently of psychologists and mental health professionals in general that my problem had been caused by stress, anxiety, guilt, depression and a pervasive sense of abject failure at living satisfactorily.
Anyway, I made a number of critical changes in my living situation and remained swelling and pain free for many happy years after. Until this past month. Now it's back. My left wrist has a lump the size of a walnut that varies in size through the day. When it hurts, it hurts like the toothache. My left ankle also seems to be involved, but so far only in a minor way.
So, quite naturally, I'm beginning to investigate what the hell is bugging me so much that this is happening. There aren't any cheerleaders now, the Soul Killer is gone on to eff up other lives in other parts of the city. The anorexic child is a successful wife, mother and psychologist living her own life very happily. My job is getting better all the time, except for the pay, which looks like someone took a vow of poverty. But I don't have to struggle the way younger members of the faculty do.
The source of my anxiety is Mother. She is in failing health and I am watching her decline and her efforts to cope with pain. I'm scared and helpless to do anything to make this come out any other way than her leaving me here alone to go on without her.
My friend Sharon called me this morning and said that she sees me doing all that I can to cope and to meet Mother's needs, but she thinks that I'm trying to take on her pain, and I can't do that. She recommended meditation and seeking ways to put up a barrier (her word) to afford myself some protection from my subconscious. She's all about the homeopathic way and reeled off a list of stress fighting vitamins and minerals to pick up at the Natural Kitchen.
I felt a lot better after the conversation just because someone said I notice you're struggling and I give enough of a damn to say something about it. Thanks Sharon. Thanks for the shopping list and for caring.
Now I'm going to put my face on and go sit in Billie's chair at the Very Expensive Hair Salon, where I will feel like a pampered poodle for about two hours. All those damned essays I have been carrying in my tote bag since Wednesday will get graded during the fourth quarter of UT-UCLA.

Sunday Afternoon

Did you ever notice how when it begins to get late in the day on Sunday, things seem melancholy. When I was a little girl, I thought it was because we had to leave my grandparents on Sunday afternoon. Now that I'm the grandparent, it's because I have to go back to work tomorrow.

Today, I emailed my son. I haven't actually spoken to him since June, when he called to wish me happy birthday. I'm not the world's best mother, but then again he isn't exactly a prize either. We're both just doing what's easiest I suppose. I hope he returns my email...I'll know we still have a relationship.

The great grandmothers are falling apart. My mother has an appointment with the spinal sugeon tomorrow. She has a compression fracture of the lower spine from a fall. My former mother-in-law had surgery today for partial replacement of a broken hip. Another upside of divorce...I only have one of them to take care of.

It was watering day on the even side of the street today. The shrubbery is surviving, but the grass is sparse and crisp. The drought continues and the forecast is for a return to 100 degree highs before the week is over. The fires at Bastrop and in Grimes and Montgomery counties are partially under control. My anxiety level about living in these parched woods is pretty high. I keep thinking about putting things I'd want to save in the back of the car. But where would I begin? Berit's wedding portrait, Sloan's baby pictures, everything else is just stuff. Stuff that our lives are made from.

The kids sent a picture from lunch at a hamburger joint. Maura sent a picture of Molly sitting up.

Her new trick for her grandpa.

Some fall down, some sit up and tomorrow is Monday.