update: it's the kind of thing that I would hesitate to blog or have the urge to unblog later. But. I don't think I should do that because this is the kind of thing I know to be pathological, so I feel shame about it. But I don't know what to do about anything unless it's write about it, so I should.
I do not like shame as a feeling. In fact, it is my least favorite feeling I think. I try to avoid it by being sex positive and always right. But uhhh, being Cruella in my mother's hysteria? there is no right way to do/be that. that's not even endurable ð
They're ruling out a clot cz of a swollen foot, blood count low, needs iron and is dehydrated - her usual down-the-tubes events minus the vodka thank god. but here's the kicker. it's the NUTS that she is. the dark side of her joy magic is she'll go off the rails in a reality that is too joyless. she will go insane or whatever the diagnostic language is, it's gone off her rocker (again).
she does that. and it looks very frightening. almost as bad as something like detox. do not forget, SHE SCREAMED AT ME when she first got here AND COULD NOT READ babblecrying. I have seen this my whole life, serially, most often at times related to my father's behavior (he's violent:she's checked out) (this time he fucking died). at her age, it's impossible to tell her nutsness from dementia, which is what my sister is concerned about understandably. But experientially it's the same right now: She's nuts.
And my heart feels in my throat pounding right now because she told my sister Aaron was here, that he said her heart was sad and needed a pill, that he and I had discussed all this, together here, and on and on like that, a wholly imagined reality that she prefered, full blown A-Bone pathology. AND that I was going to get to decide who got fired from now on because they realize I'm a genius, so there was nothing to worry about. Everything worked out great. "A party every day." I feel mortified. ð just. Mutually debriefing, my sister and I were both speechless finally. (her: he was never even there? she made it sound like a housecall party, me: no there was a photo of a party on my phone, us: ðģ) We figure that at home her behavior is so rote and Jen isn't a self-reflector type, she can not notice that mom went quietly insane sitting there watching television non fucking stop. no tv here ðĪŊ
I don't have a "welp" left in me for that shit. I know I am catastrophizing, vulnerable to that atm. but it feels like some kind of psychological warfare, raining fucking frogs or some shit
"Best to table that thought. Time to butter the toast now, to make a list, to begin another day with the assumption, the hope, please God, that there will be so many more, that they won’t just end. So your mind, on overload, thinks of the day to come, the errands to run, the meetings, so much to do. Too early for existential dread. But then your wife, your husband, your partner enters the kitchen, heading for the coffee, and doesn’t understand the hug, the intensity of it this early, doesn’t understand"
dogs don't understand either, but unlike people it doesnt matter to them that you are too dread-ful to get dressed today, that although it does nobody any good you'd rather feel awful if awful is where your people all went away to, they have no idea why you're just lying around naked bc Alive is what you're holding on to today, down to that, and your body is where that Lives, so that you're not alone exactly, your body is still there with you, your oldest beleaguered friend.
my mother is in an ER with my sister rn. the pattern holds. my parents tell me allllllll about how they're Dying Inside (emotional labor), then Jen has to deal with their compression sock compliance (practicalities) and is rightfully annoyed but I SAID SHE WAS DYING what did ya think I meant?? ðĪĶðŧ♀️
siiiiiiiiiiiiigh
