Just because…

This cookie crumbles

Sue and I had a wonderful walk yesterday.  We talked about Christmas and disappointments and kids and expectations—blah de blah de blah.

We decided that if our kids are disappointed in us we should say—“…so sue me”.

Sue me, take me to court, (probably small claims), play this out.  I let you down, sue me. I’m not what you have come to expect…sue me.

Mea culpa, mea culpa.  This cookie crumbles.

It was never my goal to be a perfect mother, oh yeah, maybe it was.  I wanted to be.  I wanted people to point and exclaim—“Jesus, Kitty is the perfect mother”.

I want to say to all adults whether related to me or not, if you are dissatisfied with me, tell me.  If I can or want to respond in a way to make you feel better, I will.

If nothing will help and I am simply left in a dark morass, guilty and morose, then fuck it.  Sue me and take it up with someone who wants to listen and adjudicate.

I’m sorry if you feel bad about something I said or did in the past.  I am sorry you had a rough time of it.  I love you.  I am imperfect.

Gosh, as I write this I realize that I am/was angry and am ready to cast off.  “Cast off!!”

I

Haven’t felt like writing.  Can I only write when I’m unhappy?  Perhaps.

What’s to figure out when you’re content.  Why go to any efforts to figure out why I am content? I’m like those happy cows in the field, grazing along—lots of grass, sunshine and camaraderie.I feel calm, collected and kind of empty.  Isn’t this silly to worry about feeling calm and collected?  Who am I without my cares?

This is what I thought…I must be developing Alzheimers.  The fact that I can sit quite happily and stare out of a window means I’m losing it.  If this is losing it bring it on.

Oh and by the way if you need something to worry about and you want to share it with the children. consider the above.

I just found this line in a poem at the bottom of January’s blogs:

“something new is being born in us…”.  Yes that is what I feel.  Wow!

Really, I couldn’t resist given my specific difficulties.  No one has ever accused me of fouling my trousers as a formidable stratagem.

What’s bugging me with Tessa?  Nothing in particular except the feeling that she wants something from me that I can’t give.

I have gone to visit her in Portland and she has had work to do and so I have spent my time organizing, cleaning and seeing her when she had the time available.This Christmas, she came and I didn’t get to spend time with her.  I was sick. It is also true that I am sick to death of this drama between the girls.  It makes Christmas a time of anxiety and pain for me.  It asks too much of me or rather it asks more than I want to give.  I’m bloody fucking tired of Christmas.  I hate it.  I was just going to say it makes my guts ache which is actually what happened over Christmas this year. I tied myself into knots.  Just writing it makes me want to scream.  So that’s what’s bugging me.  My own inability to make Christmas like it used to be.  Oh well. Another letdown.

I will not do another Christmas like that.  I just decided.  i don’t know what I will figure out, but it won’t look, feel, or be like this.

 

 

“Imparting hope to others has nothing to do with exhorting or cheering them on. It has everything to do with relationships that honor the soul, encourage the heart, inspire the mind, quicken the step, and heal the wounds we suffer along the way.”                                                     -Parker Palmer-

Relationships that honor the soul.  That’s the only kind to have.

There he is, stirring the pot again.

Yippy

I, I, I, I

Ai, Ai, Ai.

Listening to Kate makes me want to yip like a coyote.

I am in the process of organizing a massive amount of material from the last 22 years, with the concomitant feelings, trying to create a coherent account of Kate’s illness that might prove helpful to others in this situation.

No guarantees.  I hate revisiting this shit and yet how can we not try to make sense out of chaos.  I need to do this.I laid in bed this morning  dreading the morass, seeking a happy ending.

But all endings as we know are mixed.  Happily ever after is for fools and children.  As good as can be expected, better then we ever dreamed possible.  Those are great outcomes, my friend.

So, into the fray.

Harborview

In March after Kate got home, she was admitted to Harborview.  We had been with Kate to Harborview only once years before when she was sixteen and needed to be hospitalized against her will.

This was prior to her hospitalization at Children’s Hospital where she remained for a year.

So we came back fifteen years later to Harborview in the Emergency Room where she was sent by her PCP.

As in all hospital emergency room visits with Kate, this lasted six hours before she was admitted to a medical floor for a broken pelvis and extreme malnutrition.  Kate was volatile and abusive to the staff.  They did not want to admit her, but really had no choice.

Rob and I left her there and came home knowing that we would return again and again.