My oldest daughter and her husband and two kids are planning to move to my city. They have good reasons not excluding the fact that my husband and I are getting older and may need more help in the coming years - for which I'm grateful.
But, they are also bringing with them their problems - financial, marital, emotional and parental. Can I deal with that? It's a good question because it requires rigorous honesty and I'm not sure of the answer.
On the one hand - I love them dearly - especially the kids. I want to be close to them and to have them in my life and vice versa. I hate being a long distance Grandma - although I do the best I can to "be there" for them. But, I don't know if I can handle them IN my house, IN my town
with the expectation that I be available to them on a daily basis - and I'm not sure that is the expectation. There has been some talk of them coming to my house after school and doing their homework here - but that means I need to be here doesn't it? I tell myself, they are not babies - they can come here to an empty house if need be and be responsible for themselves - but that's not what I think the bargain is. I think I'm supposed to ride herd on them - supervise them and stay on top of their homework - or at least the doing thereof.
I want to be available if they are sick - or need a ride someplace. I'm happy to go shopping with them or go to the movies with them. I like the idea of coming to Nana's and Grampa's house and feeling welcome.
But we've lived here 17 years without having to be responsible to anyone except ourselves (well, except for the years my Mom was in a convalescent home). ...we - I - have commitments. I go to OA two days a week, I have my Women's Group one day a week, I'm currently taking classes for my Bat Mitzvah and plan to continue with some kind of Hebrew or Trope classes after that. We both take community classes offered by Sonoma State or the JC (just one a semester but...) We visit our little granddaughter, Dahlia one day a week. We both try to exercise daily (well I don't do that as much as I should) and take care of business - shopping, walking the dog, fixing up the house, maintaining ourselves with doctor visits, grocery shopping etc. All time consuming.
My son-in-law says that their being here will turn our lives upside down - do I want that? I know there will be big changes, but "upside down" sounds pretty drastic. Of course, he likes to jab me and knows how to.
And then there is the desire to "help" - which I have to curtail. I have a strong urge to "take over". I want to fix things - so I fantasize buying them a house or a condo (at least) so they will have a "nice" place to live - or I fantasize remodeling our house so that we live in the "granny unit" and they have the downstairs - or ? I know I can't fix their problems and I know it's unrealistic to plan their lives, or try to take over .....but can I keep myself in check when they are right in my face?
This is part of parenting that no-one seems to focus on. There are books on parenting infants, toddler, children, adolescents but adults?? Once the kids are out of the house and /or married, it's all over - right? Wrong. Serene once told me that once you have children you are a hostage to the future and she was right - you/I always worry about them - their health- their welfare - their future - and it doesn't matter how old they are or you are.
The other part is that the goals I think are reflective of success and happiness may not look anything like what they want out of life. I don't quite know what they think they want - but over the years - I've concluded that it's not the things that I think are important. Or maybe they do agree with me but just haven't been able to sustain that. I think my daughter shares some of our values like owning a home, money in the bank, planning for the future, college for the kids etc. But it's hard to sit by and watch as those things flit out of control due to the economy or their choices. It's not like I have all the answers - but I sometimes feel like I do.
So, as I'm learning more and more about myself and how I function in the world - and I have to give OA credit here - I, at least, am able to look at MY part in these situations. What is in my control? What isn't? Why do I think I know the answers? And are my answers any good to anyone except myself? There are also expectations - many of which I didn't even know I had for my children - some, like college educations were obvious - but others like fulfilling my emotional life, I didn't.
So part of my fear about them moving to Santa Rosa is that I will have to deal with my expectations of what that will look like.....and I ask myself - is it dinner every Friday night together? Is it going to local attractions together? Will we take the kids to the Symphony?
and more..........
I will need to talk honestly and freely with my daughter and son-in-law about what THEIR expectations are and come to some kind of terms that balance between the four of us. I have to look at my expectations and honestly appaise them as to who benefits? Are these for MY benefit or theirs - do they share my view (unlikely) of what family connections are? Is it wise for me to organize my life around them? (as I'm likely to do) and I can't ignore my husband in all of this.
He is unlikely to be as self aware as I am - he is also unlikely to express his own needs and desires in this but he will have them.
Open communication is what is always prescribed in these situations - but how easy is that to do? How do you expose your needs and expectations and not worry about how that will be seen? Is it likely that there will be an understanding response? When should we do this? Now?
or when they get here? I have a sickly feeling that it is now....even though it may make them change their minds about coming here. Help!
Unanswerable. Tune in tomorrow - next week - next year. It's all a process.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Aging body, failing mind
Don't read this blog kids. It's just me talking to myself and you don't need to be involved.
I'm hurting a lot. My back and left hip feel like knives are slicing into me. My hands ache and throb so much I can hardly stand it. Pain medication just makes me constipated (I told you not to read this) and doesn't do much for the pain anyway. I feel very dispairing and tired of hurting. Everything I want to do is so difficult. Everything that needs to be done has to be done by someone else. The only time I feel "normal" is driving the car and even that isn't the pleasure it used to be. After all, it was going someplace that was the fun - and now when I get someplace I can't do anything about it.
Oh, I guess I could take the electric scooter out of the car and get around that way. But it isn't that easy and now with my hands feeling so painful it's hard to me to assemble the scooter.
I don't know how I'm going to manage Germany. One of the things I've been thinking is getting a cortisone shot from the doctor - I've got a message out to him now. But as for my hands, I think I'll just have to take ibuprofen more often - or routinely. These days, I just take it when I'm hurting but I noticed that when I take it in the middle of the night (maintaining the level in my bloodstream) my days is much better. The problem at night, of course, is that I need to eat something along with the pill or it's hard on the stomach.
I was always such an active and busy person, I'm finding it hard to accept that I can't do that any more - both physically and mentally. I get tired and the more tired I am the more forgetful I am. I'm only 72 (well almost 73) and I'm hoping to be around for a while yet, but I don't want to if I'm going to be like Mom. Not that I have options.
There is an assumption that you will always remain yourself as you age - most people cannot even envision that it's not a choice how you age. I know I've seen crippled people all my life and somehow never imagined that the REASON they walked the way they did was because it was painful or they couldn't help it. It sounds stupid put that way, but on some level I presumed they had a choice and chose to "walk that way".....and I'm a nurse. Go figure.
The whole issue then becomes kind of scary because not only don't I know what it's going to be like, but I don't have any control over it. I know the press likes to print articles about "mental exercises" to ward off Alzheimers. Or diet and exercise you can do to stay fit into old age - but there are limits and I suspect those limits are a lot less than what people think. I know that Annecia was very angry when she got high blood pressure because she had been doing yoga for many, many years and it "shouldn't be happening" when you do yoga!! Right. I sort of feel the same way. I may not have done yoga, but I exercised (intermittantly it's true) and I tried to control my weight (with occasional success) and here I am.
I have a friend who is 95 and "failing"....and she doesn't want to give in. She wants to do everything she ever did - be on committees, go to seminars, volunteer for charities, head up counsels - and she can't. She doesn't want to give up her independance either - can I blame her? She gave up her car which I thought she'd never do....and I don't know if I could. She has to depend on other people - who are not always so dependable or interested. But, in some ways, she is a role model because she keeps plugging along. She does the best she can, she struggles to maintain her dignity and independance and she tries to "be there" for her children and grandchildren. And those are all my goals too.
So aging is a process - like growing up and not nearly as exciting. It is the slow loss of physical capability, mental acuity and ability to deal with stress and change. I used to tell my patients that it wasn't fair that at a time in life when change is so difficult we are expected to make the biggest adjustments - the loss of a life partner - giving up a treasured home - dealing with illness
and debility.
Phooey!
I'm hurting a lot. My back and left hip feel like knives are slicing into me. My hands ache and throb so much I can hardly stand it. Pain medication just makes me constipated (I told you not to read this) and doesn't do much for the pain anyway. I feel very dispairing and tired of hurting. Everything I want to do is so difficult. Everything that needs to be done has to be done by someone else. The only time I feel "normal" is driving the car and even that isn't the pleasure it used to be. After all, it was going someplace that was the fun - and now when I get someplace I can't do anything about it.
Oh, I guess I could take the electric scooter out of the car and get around that way. But it isn't that easy and now with my hands feeling so painful it's hard to me to assemble the scooter.
I don't know how I'm going to manage Germany. One of the things I've been thinking is getting a cortisone shot from the doctor - I've got a message out to him now. But as for my hands, I think I'll just have to take ibuprofen more often - or routinely. These days, I just take it when I'm hurting but I noticed that when I take it in the middle of the night (maintaining the level in my bloodstream) my days is much better. The problem at night, of course, is that I need to eat something along with the pill or it's hard on the stomach.
I was always such an active and busy person, I'm finding it hard to accept that I can't do that any more - both physically and mentally. I get tired and the more tired I am the more forgetful I am. I'm only 72 (well almost 73) and I'm hoping to be around for a while yet, but I don't want to if I'm going to be like Mom. Not that I have options.
There is an assumption that you will always remain yourself as you age - most people cannot even envision that it's not a choice how you age. I know I've seen crippled people all my life and somehow never imagined that the REASON they walked the way they did was because it was painful or they couldn't help it. It sounds stupid put that way, but on some level I presumed they had a choice and chose to "walk that way".....and I'm a nurse. Go figure.
The whole issue then becomes kind of scary because not only don't I know what it's going to be like, but I don't have any control over it. I know the press likes to print articles about "mental exercises" to ward off Alzheimers. Or diet and exercise you can do to stay fit into old age - but there are limits and I suspect those limits are a lot less than what people think. I know that Annecia was very angry when she got high blood pressure because she had been doing yoga for many, many years and it "shouldn't be happening" when you do yoga!! Right. I sort of feel the same way. I may not have done yoga, but I exercised (intermittantly it's true) and I tried to control my weight (with occasional success) and here I am.
I have a friend who is 95 and "failing"....and she doesn't want to give in. She wants to do everything she ever did - be on committees, go to seminars, volunteer for charities, head up counsels - and she can't. She doesn't want to give up her independance either - can I blame her? She gave up her car which I thought she'd never do....and I don't know if I could. She has to depend on other people - who are not always so dependable or interested. But, in some ways, she is a role model because she keeps plugging along. She does the best she can, she struggles to maintain her dignity and independance and she tries to "be there" for her children and grandchildren. And those are all my goals too.
So aging is a process - like growing up and not nearly as exciting. It is the slow loss of physical capability, mental acuity and ability to deal with stress and change. I used to tell my patients that it wasn't fair that at a time in life when change is so difficult we are expected to make the biggest adjustments - the loss of a life partner - giving up a treasured home - dealing with illness
and debility.
Phooey!
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Trouble with Trouble
I've been reading too much Holocaust material. I don't even know why.
I have always been an avid reader, but lately anything that isn't seriously factual is boring. I can't be bothered with novels and didn't finish the one for my Book Club last month (well, it was pretty lame). But I have this drive to read World War II stuff - Holocaust stuff or at the very least History.
The problem is that I'm getting very depressed and fearful. I should not be reading this stuff if I'm going to Berlin in two months. How am I ever going to "enjoy" myself? or take in the sights without bitterness, anger, fear or anxiety???
I thought I'd save myself from the above by reading about Polish schtetls (little Jewish enclaves in Poland) - WRONG! If anything it's worse. The amount of anti-semitism that existed prior to World War II is mind boggling. How my Mother's family ever survived with any degree of sanity I'll never understand. Well, maybe they didn't!
I certainly knew that my Mom didn't think very much of Poles! She hated the Polish teachers and the Polish schools and left Poland at the very first opportunity. Which I don't know exactly when that was. I have no information like passports, visas or papers -and G-d knows, my Mom saved every paper. So my suspicion is that it wasn't exactly legal. Maybe it was sort of like the Mexicans crossing over into the USA these days.
My uncles were there in Germany - Berlin - first. My Mom, her sister, Toni and her Mother joined them at some point. The Uncles had set up a tailoring business and it was apparently doing well - so they could afford to support the three women. As far as I know, my Mother didn't work in Germany until she married my Father and did the office work for his business.
He "arranged" for her to get legal papers - somehow.
I don't think my Mom ever went back to Poland to visit - maybe once - I have a dim memory of something of that kind being talked about but it certainly wasn't more than once. My Aunt Toni and Uncle Selig must have been absolutely desperate to go back to Poland in 1939 - my Grandmother Chaya went with them.
I have neighbors who are Polish. A very nice, friendly young couple. They bought the house next door a couple of years ago and I enjoy their children - 4 year old Kai and 1 1/2 year old Nella (or Bella) I can never keep it straight.
These people are ostensibly Catholic - although I don't think they observe very much.
They know we are Jewish but there is no discussion about it - maybe the Communist era they grew up in burned all the anti-semitism out of them.
I've heard stories about their Fathers who were politically diametrically opposed - and how the church was the only save place to be anti-Communist. Apparently the Communists knew better than to try and drive the church out of Poland - they are such an observant people. But the church has never been a friend to the Jews and certainly not the Polish church. Much like the German Lutheran/Christian churches they preached against the Jews and libeled them whenever they could and inflamed passions every Easter so that the Jews stayed inside and hidden when they knew the services would be over and groups of young (and maybe old) thugs would be about looking for Jews to beat up.
So I wonder about that society - are they no longer anti-semitic? I've heard they welcome Jews back to visit and to live there. There is even a small Jewish community growing there. But... it's hard reading. And, it makes me wonder about my neighbors - and their families, and their history. What do they know about the Jews? What do they think about us? I'm afraid to ask..........what if they confirm my fears? Better not go there.
My people - the Jews - were always being persecuted, blamed and hounded. Of course, the writer of this book is Jewish - so we'll cut him some slack but it certainly fills in the gaps of stories I've heard from my Mother and my Uncles.
My husband also has a family history of Polish schtetls - and his family is no warmer or fondly remembering the Polish life than mine.
It is scary because one of the books I read "Hitler's Willing Executioners" - a very scholarly approach to the Holocaust - talks about the streams of anti-semitism running throughout Europe sometimes closer to the surface and sometimes more subterranean - but violently there since the Middle Ages. The author of that book says it is a mistake to believe that the people of Germany (or for that matter Poland and Russia) are like Americans and free of prejudice - or that they even regard prejudice to be an evil thing. He, the author, believes that those feelings of hatred are there waiting to be accessed by some political or social (or religious) figure for their own purposes.
And sadly, in the book about Poland, it is abundantly clear that the amusing characteristics we laugh about in the Jews - the total inability to agree on anything - was a fundamental flaw in their ability to survive in Poland, in Russia, in the Ukraine and in Germany. All these groups -
orthodox, Zionist, Socialist, and subcategories of each - could not agree on the time of day, let alone a method of countering either in a literary nor a physical response to the forces around them that ultimately destroyed so many.
What good does it do to be bright, creative, talented, and scholars if we are unable to protect ourselves and our families from the libels and cruelty of the world? My rabbi here in Sonoma County - safe, sane, beautiful and liberal - believes that it is all possible to happen again - even here. And how can I answer that? Down deep I don't feel totally safe - I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility that it could happen again and I don't know how to protect those I love from that possibility.
I have always been an avid reader, but lately anything that isn't seriously factual is boring. I can't be bothered with novels and didn't finish the one for my Book Club last month (well, it was pretty lame). But I have this drive to read World War II stuff - Holocaust stuff or at the very least History.
The problem is that I'm getting very depressed and fearful. I should not be reading this stuff if I'm going to Berlin in two months. How am I ever going to "enjoy" myself? or take in the sights without bitterness, anger, fear or anxiety???
I thought I'd save myself from the above by reading about Polish schtetls (little Jewish enclaves in Poland) - WRONG! If anything it's worse. The amount of anti-semitism that existed prior to World War II is mind boggling. How my Mother's family ever survived with any degree of sanity I'll never understand. Well, maybe they didn't!
I certainly knew that my Mom didn't think very much of Poles! She hated the Polish teachers and the Polish schools and left Poland at the very first opportunity. Which I don't know exactly when that was. I have no information like passports, visas or papers -and G-d knows, my Mom saved every paper. So my suspicion is that it wasn't exactly legal. Maybe it was sort of like the Mexicans crossing over into the USA these days.
My uncles were there in Germany - Berlin - first. My Mom, her sister, Toni and her Mother joined them at some point. The Uncles had set up a tailoring business and it was apparently doing well - so they could afford to support the three women. As far as I know, my Mother didn't work in Germany until she married my Father and did the office work for his business.
He "arranged" for her to get legal papers - somehow.
I don't think my Mom ever went back to Poland to visit - maybe once - I have a dim memory of something of that kind being talked about but it certainly wasn't more than once. My Aunt Toni and Uncle Selig must have been absolutely desperate to go back to Poland in 1939 - my Grandmother Chaya went with them.
I have neighbors who are Polish. A very nice, friendly young couple. They bought the house next door a couple of years ago and I enjoy their children - 4 year old Kai and 1 1/2 year old Nella (or Bella) I can never keep it straight.
These people are ostensibly Catholic - although I don't think they observe very much.
They know we are Jewish but there is no discussion about it - maybe the Communist era they grew up in burned all the anti-semitism out of them.
I've heard stories about their Fathers who were politically diametrically opposed - and how the church was the only save place to be anti-Communist. Apparently the Communists knew better than to try and drive the church out of Poland - they are such an observant people. But the church has never been a friend to the Jews and certainly not the Polish church. Much like the German Lutheran/Christian churches they preached against the Jews and libeled them whenever they could and inflamed passions every Easter so that the Jews stayed inside and hidden when they knew the services would be over and groups of young (and maybe old) thugs would be about looking for Jews to beat up.
So I wonder about that society - are they no longer anti-semitic? I've heard they welcome Jews back to visit and to live there. There is even a small Jewish community growing there. But... it's hard reading. And, it makes me wonder about my neighbors - and their families, and their history. What do they know about the Jews? What do they think about us? I'm afraid to ask..........what if they confirm my fears? Better not go there.
My people - the Jews - were always being persecuted, blamed and hounded. Of course, the writer of this book is Jewish - so we'll cut him some slack but it certainly fills in the gaps of stories I've heard from my Mother and my Uncles.
My husband also has a family history of Polish schtetls - and his family is no warmer or fondly remembering the Polish life than mine.
It is scary because one of the books I read "Hitler's Willing Executioners" - a very scholarly approach to the Holocaust - talks about the streams of anti-semitism running throughout Europe sometimes closer to the surface and sometimes more subterranean - but violently there since the Middle Ages. The author of that book says it is a mistake to believe that the people of Germany (or for that matter Poland and Russia) are like Americans and free of prejudice - or that they even regard prejudice to be an evil thing. He, the author, believes that those feelings of hatred are there waiting to be accessed by some political or social (or religious) figure for their own purposes.
And sadly, in the book about Poland, it is abundantly clear that the amusing characteristics we laugh about in the Jews - the total inability to agree on anything - was a fundamental flaw in their ability to survive in Poland, in Russia, in the Ukraine and in Germany. All these groups -
orthodox, Zionist, Socialist, and subcategories of each - could not agree on the time of day, let alone a method of countering either in a literary nor a physical response to the forces around them that ultimately destroyed so many.
What good does it do to be bright, creative, talented, and scholars if we are unable to protect ourselves and our families from the libels and cruelty of the world? My rabbi here in Sonoma County - safe, sane, beautiful and liberal - believes that it is all possible to happen again - even here. And how can I answer that? Down deep I don't feel totally safe - I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility that it could happen again and I don't know how to protect those I love from that possibility.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Insomnia strikes again
Lying awake and needing to sleep are really deadly. I try not to take too many pills, too many side effects but sometimes just desperately need some rest.
My mind races with whatever issues are crazing me - right wing Republicans, Tea Party nuts,
Questions about the effectiveness of Obama anything - the insane total block of anything effective happening in the State Legislature. Family issues. Health issues. Aging. Loss of friends and family. Personal history as a pseudo Kindertransport child and potential Holocaust victim. The real victims in my family. Etc. etc. etc.
What I really need is that ability to detach from issues where I really have no control. Beyond my vote, or donations to causes, I have little to offer- no knowledge which I feel will lead to solutions; no speciall skills to help implement those solutions; no trust in the solutions offered by others.
I do admire those people who get out and work for causes - sometimes seemingly hopeless causes and they keep working their butts off trying to help. I'm much more of a defeatist.
Little hope that humanity is human and has human values. Hatred seems endemic and unashamed. Political stalemates the rule and no sense that the good of the people is very high on the list of most of the politicians in Washington.
what kind of a world are we leaving for our kids? None of the rules or patterns we learned which would have good outcomes are relevant. There is no job security, or job loyalty. There is no nurturing of new and young people with ideas and enthusiasm. There is no educational track which guarantees a useful profession and a good income. It's all kill or be killed and flexibility is the key - you must be ready for change and go with the flow - reducate, refesh skills, be ready to make a complete about face.
It seems like treacherous water to me and I'm glad I don't have to swim in it.
Betrayed by Democracy. Gridlock.
Will try for an more upgeat blog next time. Tonight is not a time of expansive dreams.
My mind races with whatever issues are crazing me - right wing Republicans, Tea Party nuts,
Questions about the effectiveness of Obama anything - the insane total block of anything effective happening in the State Legislature. Family issues. Health issues. Aging. Loss of friends and family. Personal history as a pseudo Kindertransport child and potential Holocaust victim. The real victims in my family. Etc. etc. etc.
What I really need is that ability to detach from issues where I really have no control. Beyond my vote, or donations to causes, I have little to offer- no knowledge which I feel will lead to solutions; no speciall skills to help implement those solutions; no trust in the solutions offered by others.
I do admire those people who get out and work for causes - sometimes seemingly hopeless causes and they keep working their butts off trying to help. I'm much more of a defeatist.
Little hope that humanity is human and has human values. Hatred seems endemic and unashamed. Political stalemates the rule and no sense that the good of the people is very high on the list of most of the politicians in Washington.
what kind of a world are we leaving for our kids? None of the rules or patterns we learned which would have good outcomes are relevant. There is no job security, or job loyalty. There is no nurturing of new and young people with ideas and enthusiasm. There is no educational track which guarantees a useful profession and a good income. It's all kill or be killed and flexibility is the key - you must be ready for change and go with the flow - reducate, refesh skills, be ready to make a complete about face.
It seems like treacherous water to me and I'm glad I don't have to swim in it.
Betrayed by Democracy. Gridlock.
Will try for an more upgeat blog next time. Tonight is not a time of expansive dreams.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Gardens and family
I try to get some exercise 3-4 days a week and since the weather has been nice, I walk. I use a walker but I go and I love looking at people's gardens.
I'm blessed with living in a part of the country where people love to garden. We have nurseries everywhere and even drug stores, hardware stores and liquor stores sell some kind of plants!
There are people who take it very, very seriously and want everyone else to do the same and there are people like me who buy whatever strikes their fancy at any given time - usually helpful if it's on sale - and into the ground it goes one way or the other (gardener or husband doing the planting).
I love seeing what happens - which is usually that the plant flourishes- leaves and branches sprout, buds appear, flowers bloom. It's very fulfilling. I tend to kind of "know" what's going to work. After years and years of planting I know which plants flourish on neglect, and which ones want daily attention. I've also gone to classes, orchid or African violet clubs, succulent clubs, and bonsai groups and sucked knowledge out of the experts.
It's wonderful when plants like orchids - which I think of as being exotic - bloom like crazy. They ignore the frosted nights, the overheated days and the inexpert management of watering schedules. Of course, there are more delicate and demanding orchids - but, like I say, I have an instinct for the survivors and survive they do. Roses the same way. I have lots of rose bushes in a variety of colors and scents. I can't resist a beautiful color, shape, or sale. And some of the best roses I have in the garden have been orphans I've picked up after the sale was over and everyone had gone home.
Morey is the scientific gardener. He pays attention to the sun, the soil, the watering schedule and the fertilizer - and I have to give him some credit because my hit or miss approach would probably not be as successful if he didn't follow along and make sure the plants have what they need. So we both enjoy the garden.
Some roses have been with me since Toni and Martin at 7 and 5 (about) brought home little pots of red roses. I've moved them with me from house to house and they flourish here in Santa Rosa as they never did in Los Angeles. They'll go with me to whatever retirement I end up at and I would like it if they were planted on my grave, but most cemetaries have rules about things like that. Too bad. They are called garnet roses and I love them.
I bought myself some orange roses one Mother's Day when everyone else seemed to have forgotten they have a mother. They are sweet and rewarding - and they don't forget Mother's Day. They bloom wildly (which is why I bought them - they were so generous in their bloom at the nursery) around May and they always make me feel they do it for me.
When I was a little girl in England, we didn't have flowers in the garden. Our garden was strictly for food and filled with potatoes, carrots, cabbages etc. But down the middle of the garden dividing our garden from our neighbors was a long, very long, row of roses. Somehow they knew to bloom on my birthday and every July 16th there were thousands of pink roses on those bushes. They were not re-bloomers - once was all and then it was over - but what a display that was every year. And, from somewhere my Mother had found a blue taffeta dress with pink roses embroidered all over it and I wore that dress for my birthday every year until I burst out of it.....and there was no hope for further expansion.
Such memories cling like cobwebs to the brain and infuse the present with their sweet memories. I think I was a noticing sort of child and there were lots of things around me that I noticed - not so much people as gardens, fields, wildflowers, wild strawberries, horse chestnuts,
birds nests - living on a farm has much to commend it. I was also alone a lot. My parents were hard workers and I was an only child with few friends - mostly at school, so my days at home were out in the fields, garden or barns. I don't regret one minute of it.
I climbed fruit trees to sing to them. I sang every song in my repetoire. I don't know if the trees appreciated it, but there copious apples however sour, that came off those trees. The red currant bushes provided little hideouts for me in the long grasses between them and I sang to them too. They too were very, very sour so my music may not have helped but they were also prolific - maybe I can take credit for that.
I think that a farm is a great place to raise a child and I wish I had had that option for my kids.
Still, there is a time, when farms cease to stimulate and museums, art galleries, parks (with rose gardens) took over. Los Angeles in the late 1940's was open to me and all I needed was bus tokens and/or the willingness to walk for miles. I did walk for miles to Exposition Park where two large and wonderful and FREE museums welcomed me and the rose garden was open to me and I was often the only person there sniffing my way from flower to flower.
I learned to swim in the Olympic pool at Exposition Park and I went every single weekday of the summer whether it was overcast or not (and May/June in Los Angeles can be very gloomy). I had crushes on the lifeguards who were often students from the nearby USC and sometimes I was the only kid in the pool.
On weekends we, as a family, went to the pool and Dad showed off his diving skills on the high dive boards. With his beer belly, he made people chuckle until he took off flying through the air.
Mom paddled around and wouldn't get her face wet. Dad had taught her how to swim when they first met and she was a timid swimmer. I have shoeboxes of pictures of them, Mom and Dad, with their friends and Dad's brothers and my grandmother picnicking and in swim clothes at the lakes surrounding Berlin. I know my Dad and his brothers intended to build a holiday cottage somewhere they could all go and enjoy the swimming and hiking. What a nice life we might have had if not for Hitler. I might have known my cousins and grown up with them. I'm sure there would have been a lot of family for me to keep track of. And I'm sure it wouldn't have been as idyllic as I imagine. But who knows?
Mom loved to garden and she particularly liked African violets. She'd sneak leaves off the plants in the various stores she went into and then encourage them to develop roots and become little plants for her. Her room was filled with pots of violets when she lived with me. And when she lived in her own house, I had to go over weekly to water her many, many pots of plants. Many of whom took one look at me and died. She specialized in Coleus in those days and I've always hated them. I guess they knew it.
Mom could plant anything and it would grow. People would say "Oh that plant doesn't grow here." or "You can't start that plant from a leaf, or seedling." and Mom would go her merry way and they'd grow. (if they knew what was good for them). Mom would have loved Santa Rosa if she hadn't already been failing by the time we moved here. I took her for drives and showed her the flowers, but she was uninterested. She missed Los Angeles, and she missed her friends and her time was running out.
I wish I could plant a flower on her grave.
I'm blessed with living in a part of the country where people love to garden. We have nurseries everywhere and even drug stores, hardware stores and liquor stores sell some kind of plants!
There are people who take it very, very seriously and want everyone else to do the same and there are people like me who buy whatever strikes their fancy at any given time - usually helpful if it's on sale - and into the ground it goes one way or the other (gardener or husband doing the planting).
I love seeing what happens - which is usually that the plant flourishes- leaves and branches sprout, buds appear, flowers bloom. It's very fulfilling. I tend to kind of "know" what's going to work. After years and years of planting I know which plants flourish on neglect, and which ones want daily attention. I've also gone to classes, orchid or African violet clubs, succulent clubs, and bonsai groups and sucked knowledge out of the experts.
It's wonderful when plants like orchids - which I think of as being exotic - bloom like crazy. They ignore the frosted nights, the overheated days and the inexpert management of watering schedules. Of course, there are more delicate and demanding orchids - but, like I say, I have an instinct for the survivors and survive they do. Roses the same way. I have lots of rose bushes in a variety of colors and scents. I can't resist a beautiful color, shape, or sale. And some of the best roses I have in the garden have been orphans I've picked up after the sale was over and everyone had gone home.
Morey is the scientific gardener. He pays attention to the sun, the soil, the watering schedule and the fertilizer - and I have to give him some credit because my hit or miss approach would probably not be as successful if he didn't follow along and make sure the plants have what they need. So we both enjoy the garden.
Some roses have been with me since Toni and Martin at 7 and 5 (about) brought home little pots of red roses. I've moved them with me from house to house and they flourish here in Santa Rosa as they never did in Los Angeles. They'll go with me to whatever retirement I end up at and I would like it if they were planted on my grave, but most cemetaries have rules about things like that. Too bad. They are called garnet roses and I love them.
I bought myself some orange roses one Mother's Day when everyone else seemed to have forgotten they have a mother. They are sweet and rewarding - and they don't forget Mother's Day. They bloom wildly (which is why I bought them - they were so generous in their bloom at the nursery) around May and they always make me feel they do it for me.
When I was a little girl in England, we didn't have flowers in the garden. Our garden was strictly for food and filled with potatoes, carrots, cabbages etc. But down the middle of the garden dividing our garden from our neighbors was a long, very long, row of roses. Somehow they knew to bloom on my birthday and every July 16th there were thousands of pink roses on those bushes. They were not re-bloomers - once was all and then it was over - but what a display that was every year. And, from somewhere my Mother had found a blue taffeta dress with pink roses embroidered all over it and I wore that dress for my birthday every year until I burst out of it.....and there was no hope for further expansion.
Such memories cling like cobwebs to the brain and infuse the present with their sweet memories. I think I was a noticing sort of child and there were lots of things around me that I noticed - not so much people as gardens, fields, wildflowers, wild strawberries, horse chestnuts,
birds nests - living on a farm has much to commend it. I was also alone a lot. My parents were hard workers and I was an only child with few friends - mostly at school, so my days at home were out in the fields, garden or barns. I don't regret one minute of it.
I climbed fruit trees to sing to them. I sang every song in my repetoire. I don't know if the trees appreciated it, but there copious apples however sour, that came off those trees. The red currant bushes provided little hideouts for me in the long grasses between them and I sang to them too. They too were very, very sour so my music may not have helped but they were also prolific - maybe I can take credit for that.
I think that a farm is a great place to raise a child and I wish I had had that option for my kids.
Still, there is a time, when farms cease to stimulate and museums, art galleries, parks (with rose gardens) took over. Los Angeles in the late 1940's was open to me and all I needed was bus tokens and/or the willingness to walk for miles. I did walk for miles to Exposition Park where two large and wonderful and FREE museums welcomed me and the rose garden was open to me and I was often the only person there sniffing my way from flower to flower.
I learned to swim in the Olympic pool at Exposition Park and I went every single weekday of the summer whether it was overcast or not (and May/June in Los Angeles can be very gloomy). I had crushes on the lifeguards who were often students from the nearby USC and sometimes I was the only kid in the pool.
On weekends we, as a family, went to the pool and Dad showed off his diving skills on the high dive boards. With his beer belly, he made people chuckle until he took off flying through the air.
Mom paddled around and wouldn't get her face wet. Dad had taught her how to swim when they first met and she was a timid swimmer. I have shoeboxes of pictures of them, Mom and Dad, with their friends and Dad's brothers and my grandmother picnicking and in swim clothes at the lakes surrounding Berlin. I know my Dad and his brothers intended to build a holiday cottage somewhere they could all go and enjoy the swimming and hiking. What a nice life we might have had if not for Hitler. I might have known my cousins and grown up with them. I'm sure there would have been a lot of family for me to keep track of. And I'm sure it wouldn't have been as idyllic as I imagine. But who knows?
Mom loved to garden and she particularly liked African violets. She'd sneak leaves off the plants in the various stores she went into and then encourage them to develop roots and become little plants for her. Her room was filled with pots of violets when she lived with me. And when she lived in her own house, I had to go over weekly to water her many, many pots of plants. Many of whom took one look at me and died. She specialized in Coleus in those days and I've always hated them. I guess they knew it.
Mom could plant anything and it would grow. People would say "Oh that plant doesn't grow here." or "You can't start that plant from a leaf, or seedling." and Mom would go her merry way and they'd grow. (if they knew what was good for them). Mom would have loved Santa Rosa if she hadn't already been failing by the time we moved here. I took her for drives and showed her the flowers, but she was uninterested. She missed Los Angeles, and she missed her friends and her time was running out.
I wish I could plant a flower on her grave.
Parenting adults
That heading should give me pause. I should know better. I do know that I can't parent my adult children - but my gut keeps trying. Why I would think I know better than they on a vast variety of questions, I don't know. I do know that I feel I have to "fix" things when I think they are wrong or making mistakes.
I have to admit, I'm doing it for me. I get filled with fear that they are doing the wrong thing - my anxiety becomes so obsessive that I can't sleep or feel at ease until I've resolved the issue.
They don't ask for help - they don't ask for solutions - they don't want my input - they don't want my solutions - they don't listen if I tell them about my solutions........
It's MY fears that drive me. If I can imagine the worst outcome of any situation, I can imagine it happening to me or mine. I think this part of the Holocaust mentality. The black cloud of feeling endangered always hangs over me and any little suggestion that it's going to rain on me sets me off.
So what's the worst that could happen in this instance? Marcus becomes one of those flashers who likes to expose himself to people? Mia will become sexually active at 15 because of the stimulation at home - puleeze! They are both smarter than that.
Mia did reach out to me and let me know that the letter to Dear Abby was indeed hers. Did she expect me to do anything? I did write Toni an email to try to make her more aware and responsive to Mia's needs but haven't heard back - probably won't. I hope my email didn't make Toni take it out on Mia - she has done that in the past and she's hard on her.
I'm not sure I can do any more to help and I probably need to turn this over to my Higher Power because I can't do anything else. So here goes....I'm hereby letting it go and letting G-d.
I feel better already.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Ramblings of an insomniac
It's been a while since I've had a night like this. Two pills and a glass of tea and I'm still wide awake. I wonder if I've had some caffeine because that's what it feels like. But if I had accidentally made coffee with caffeine tonight, my husband would be awake too and he's snoring away.
It's times like this that my mind goes to all these strange places.
Tonight the place it seems to go to the most is to my computer guy - someone I relied on a lot - I didn't know how much - to teach me the in's and out's of my computer and to keep me current and also to keep my computer functional. Mike died. How dare he - didn't he know I and his other customers need him?
Mike was 10 years younger than I am but much younger than that in his outlook. A bouncy guy who came when called - offered all kinds of assistance and never charged enough (in our opinion) for his services. He was one of those people who loved computers and he was fun to watch at work. He'd talk back to the computer, chastise it and lovingly talk it back into a semblance of order after I'd gotten it all scrambled up.
Mike would show up with devices, upgrades - sometimes things unrelated to the computer, like the little window shade for my camera - and, as I said, never charged enough for the hours he spent or the devices he purchased. He will be sorely missed - as much for his good humor as his work.
I gather no-one quite knows what happened. He had not responded to his friends calls and they finally called the police who broke in and found him dead. He had had the flu and not been too concerned about it - he told someone he always had a bad case once a year. So he didn't see a doctor - probably didn't have medical insurance. One of his clients called the coroner and found that Mike had died of pneumonia - a totally curable disease these days.
The word is he had over 400 customers in the area! He always made us feel like we were special and never stinted on his time with us. But now he's gone. I wish there were a memorial
or funeral - or something - it's just such unfinished business. I can't believe he's gone.
My one friend - a widow - had invited him to movies and plays with her. Together they went to museums and various activities. She really liked him and, I know, hoped that he liked her - probably more than what he was willing to give. Because in many ways - friendly as Mike was, he was a loner. Not about to get into a relationship with an older woman - nor maybe a younger one either. I don't know his history but I gather he was married at some point. I didn't want to pry. For her it was an even greater loss - she lost her husband a couple of years ago and is looking for companionship and, yes, a man - in spite of what people think - there's always that
special relationship that leaves a big hole in your life when it's gone.
What else can I say? It's sad to think of Mike dying alone - and I hope it wasn't painful or frightening. I hope he's at peace. He will be missed.
It's times like this that my mind goes to all these strange places.
Tonight the place it seems to go to the most is to my computer guy - someone I relied on a lot - I didn't know how much - to teach me the in's and out's of my computer and to keep me current and also to keep my computer functional. Mike died. How dare he - didn't he know I and his other customers need him?
Mike was 10 years younger than I am but much younger than that in his outlook. A bouncy guy who came when called - offered all kinds of assistance and never charged enough (in our opinion) for his services. He was one of those people who loved computers and he was fun to watch at work. He'd talk back to the computer, chastise it and lovingly talk it back into a semblance of order after I'd gotten it all scrambled up.
Mike would show up with devices, upgrades - sometimes things unrelated to the computer, like the little window shade for my camera - and, as I said, never charged enough for the hours he spent or the devices he purchased. He will be sorely missed - as much for his good humor as his work.
I gather no-one quite knows what happened. He had not responded to his friends calls and they finally called the police who broke in and found him dead. He had had the flu and not been too concerned about it - he told someone he always had a bad case once a year. So he didn't see a doctor - probably didn't have medical insurance. One of his clients called the coroner and found that Mike had died of pneumonia - a totally curable disease these days.
The word is he had over 400 customers in the area! He always made us feel like we were special and never stinted on his time with us. But now he's gone. I wish there were a memorial
or funeral - or something - it's just such unfinished business. I can't believe he's gone.
My one friend - a widow - had invited him to movies and plays with her. Together they went to museums and various activities. She really liked him and, I know, hoped that he liked her - probably more than what he was willing to give. Because in many ways - friendly as Mike was, he was a loner. Not about to get into a relationship with an older woman - nor maybe a younger one either. I don't know his history but I gather he was married at some point. I didn't want to pry. For her it was an even greater loss - she lost her husband a couple of years ago and is looking for companionship and, yes, a man - in spite of what people think - there's always that
special relationship that leaves a big hole in your life when it's gone.
What else can I say? It's sad to think of Mike dying alone - and I hope it wasn't painful or frightening. I hope he's at peace. He will be missed.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Dieting to die for
I've dieted all my life. Since I was 12 and my Aunt and her doctor put me on diet pills. It worked. I lost a bunch of weight - looked gorgeous for 5 minutes and the yo-yo had begun.
For years, I counted calories, counted fruit and vegetables, filled up on lettuce and green beans - and then binged on chocolate and bagels and all the no-no's.
At some point I went to Weight Watchers and learned healthy eating but the yo-yo syndrome moved right along. Up and down, each time gaining a little more than I lost. My body hanging onto every calorie that it came in contact with. Sometimes I swore that inhaling as I passed a bakery made me gain a pound or two. And it may be true since they've since discovered that all kinds of chemicals are released into our blood stream given the right stimulus - like freshly baked goods.
I finally went to Overeaters Anonymous - which is a 12 step program for people who eat abnormally. And believe me I ate abnormally. There are a limited bunch of people who, having eaten their fill, find that they are thereby stimulated to eat MORE. Normal people, I assume, would stop eating at that point. And even when I wasn't eating, I was thinking about eating - what I had eaten, what I wanted to eat, what my weight would be if I ate this or that and then nothing for a week, etc. etc. And the scale was my G-d.
A friend sent me an article about Geneen Roth's books. I read them way back before OA. They made a lot of sense. They talk about eating when you are hungry - not eating when you aren't hungry and re-wiring your brain so you don't obsess about food. Good - but how?
First thing I found out was that I have no clue what hunger feels like. I doubt I've ever eaten because I'm hungry. Or sometimes I'm most hungry when I've just eaten. Does that make sense?
So OA works for me because it gives me a Path, structure and a means of examining my thinking after first teaching me to notice my thinking. I work with a sponsor who tells me when I'm full of it. She also points out when I'm kidding myself, when I'm in denial, and when I need to make amends. I have a food plan - it's pretty structured but gives me lots of room to eat out or eat with friends. I have to admit I do a lot of slipping and sliding with my food plan but I'm getting better.
So, it's like therapy - knowing what your issues are and understanding your own motivations doesn't make them disappear. It may make then lessen their impact on your life - but, believe me, they are still there. No concrete steps on how to change - the idea is that learning about yourself, you automatically change. Maybe yes, and Maybe no.......and what then, if NO?
So, Geneen, G-d bless you, but this way is better - for me.
For years, I counted calories, counted fruit and vegetables, filled up on lettuce and green beans - and then binged on chocolate and bagels and all the no-no's.
At some point I went to Weight Watchers and learned healthy eating but the yo-yo syndrome moved right along. Up and down, each time gaining a little more than I lost. My body hanging onto every calorie that it came in contact with. Sometimes I swore that inhaling as I passed a bakery made me gain a pound or two. And it may be true since they've since discovered that all kinds of chemicals are released into our blood stream given the right stimulus - like freshly baked goods.
I finally went to Overeaters Anonymous - which is a 12 step program for people who eat abnormally. And believe me I ate abnormally. There are a limited bunch of people who, having eaten their fill, find that they are thereby stimulated to eat MORE. Normal people, I assume, would stop eating at that point. And even when I wasn't eating, I was thinking about eating - what I had eaten, what I wanted to eat, what my weight would be if I ate this or that and then nothing for a week, etc. etc. And the scale was my G-d.
A friend sent me an article about Geneen Roth's books. I read them way back before OA. They made a lot of sense. They talk about eating when you are hungry - not eating when you aren't hungry and re-wiring your brain so you don't obsess about food. Good - but how?
First thing I found out was that I have no clue what hunger feels like. I doubt I've ever eaten because I'm hungry. Or sometimes I'm most hungry when I've just eaten. Does that make sense?
So OA works for me because it gives me a Path, structure and a means of examining my thinking after first teaching me to notice my thinking. I work with a sponsor who tells me when I'm full of it. She also points out when I'm kidding myself, when I'm in denial, and when I need to make amends. I have a food plan - it's pretty structured but gives me lots of room to eat out or eat with friends. I have to admit I do a lot of slipping and sliding with my food plan but I'm getting better.
So, it's like therapy - knowing what your issues are and understanding your own motivations doesn't make them disappear. It may make then lessen their impact on your life - but, believe me, they are still there. No concrete steps on how to change - the idea is that learning about yourself, you automatically change. Maybe yes, and Maybe no.......and what then, if NO?
So, Geneen, G-d bless you, but this way is better - for me.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Travel with a sting
So, we are going to Berlin this summer. Just one week and it's at the Berlin city governments invitation and I 'm already exhausted.
Travel isn't easy these days - there are long lines, security checks which take forever, huge airports with complex designs to move from one area to another blah blah blah. But the real headache is that I'm older now and EVERYTHING is harder. So today, I'm not looking forward to all this - tomorrow I may feel differently.
First of all - my cell phone won't work in Germany. So we all have to look into what will work as far as cell phones because we want and need to stay in touch. We aren't all going to be doing everything together but we need to touch base with each other and have some meals together
etc.
I don't want to buy a new and fancy cell phone that I'll have to sign a 2 year contract for just for one week's worth of calls - but I may have to go there. And I may need to have Morey do it too;
let alone Carol, Kelly and Martin.
I definitely will have to take some kind of assistive device so I can keep going and my preference would be my electric scooter. But that creates other problems - like I can't find out if the various sites of the tour are accessible for handicaped people. I don't want to find myself on the Spanish steps (I know they are someplace else but you get the idea) with no way to transport my scooter down short of bumping my way down - in which case I'd definitely need surgery again, or carrying the beast down - in which case the carrier may need surgery.
If there are curb cuts in Europe I haven't been able to find out.
Also, my scooter has the definite disadvantage of going on strike occasionally and leaving me stranded. It beeps dispairingly 7 or 10 beeps (I can never count them) trying to tell me something and I don't know what. My booklet tells me that I should count the number of beeps, but when I look to see what that number could possibly mean the answer is inevitably "Call the service person".
When it happened in Albuquerque one time, I felt helpless and angry - I don't even want to imagine how I'd feel in Berlin. Of course, that time in Albuquerque it spontaneously healed itself and by the time Carol found us it was working again. Maybe it just needed to cool off.
My next choice is my handy dandy walker - but that means I walk a lot - the walker means I can sit down frequently but it begs the question as to whether I'm better off because I will be on my feet a lot and that has consequences. Painful consequences.
I can walk 30-40 minutes with the walker - and I can probably do that more than once - but is that enough? For a day of "touring the city"?
The spirit is willing - really - to keep on trudging along but my body is definitely not cooperative.
Naturally, I'll take along a cane but that is very limited - one or two blocks and I'm done.
And there are all the various and sundry things this old lady likes about not traveling - I like my own bed! I like that I can wander about the house at night when I can't sleep and I'm not disturbing anyone. I like that I have my pharmacy of medications available if my various and sundry body parts go on strike. I like that I have a supply of almonds in case of sudden hunger surges and my diet tonic water in case of leg cramps - how will I manage without that?
I'm cranky about temperatures these days. I do not like to be cold! But I'm not crazy about being hot and sticky either.
Oh whine, whine, whine - I'm tired of hearing all this stuff - even if it's my problem to solve. I'm sure no-one else is going to find this fascinating. But I did want to get it off my chest and move on.
I should have entitled this the Old Lady's Lament. I just am not used to being an old lady. I had a strong and energetic body and I expected it to perform and, within reason, it did. For the last 10 years this wonderful body of mine has been deteriorating - in bits and pieces - and I ask but it doesn't respond, or if it does it's cranky and makes me pay. I expected better of it. But it is what it is. That doesn't mean I'm reconciled - it just means that I'm forced to accept reality.
I'm not what I once was and I probably never will be again. I'm lucky to be alive!! I just don't feel lucky. But maybe tomorrow I will - feel lucky that is.
Travel isn't easy these days - there are long lines, security checks which take forever, huge airports with complex designs to move from one area to another blah blah blah. But the real headache is that I'm older now and EVERYTHING is harder. So today, I'm not looking forward to all this - tomorrow I may feel differently.
First of all - my cell phone won't work in Germany. So we all have to look into what will work as far as cell phones because we want and need to stay in touch. We aren't all going to be doing everything together but we need to touch base with each other and have some meals together
etc.
I don't want to buy a new and fancy cell phone that I'll have to sign a 2 year contract for just for one week's worth of calls - but I may have to go there. And I may need to have Morey do it too;
let alone Carol, Kelly and Martin.
I definitely will have to take some kind of assistive device so I can keep going and my preference would be my electric scooter. But that creates other problems - like I can't find out if the various sites of the tour are accessible for handicaped people. I don't want to find myself on the Spanish steps (I know they are someplace else but you get the idea) with no way to transport my scooter down short of bumping my way down - in which case I'd definitely need surgery again, or carrying the beast down - in which case the carrier may need surgery.
If there are curb cuts in Europe I haven't been able to find out.
Also, my scooter has the definite disadvantage of going on strike occasionally and leaving me stranded. It beeps dispairingly 7 or 10 beeps (I can never count them) trying to tell me something and I don't know what. My booklet tells me that I should count the number of beeps, but when I look to see what that number could possibly mean the answer is inevitably "Call the service person".
When it happened in Albuquerque one time, I felt helpless and angry - I don't even want to imagine how I'd feel in Berlin. Of course, that time in Albuquerque it spontaneously healed itself and by the time Carol found us it was working again. Maybe it just needed to cool off.
My next choice is my handy dandy walker - but that means I walk a lot - the walker means I can sit down frequently but it begs the question as to whether I'm better off because I will be on my feet a lot and that has consequences. Painful consequences.
I can walk 30-40 minutes with the walker - and I can probably do that more than once - but is that enough? For a day of "touring the city"?
The spirit is willing - really - to keep on trudging along but my body is definitely not cooperative.
Naturally, I'll take along a cane but that is very limited - one or two blocks and I'm done.
And there are all the various and sundry things this old lady likes about not traveling - I like my own bed! I like that I can wander about the house at night when I can't sleep and I'm not disturbing anyone. I like that I have my pharmacy of medications available if my various and sundry body parts go on strike. I like that I have a supply of almonds in case of sudden hunger surges and my diet tonic water in case of leg cramps - how will I manage without that?
I'm cranky about temperatures these days. I do not like to be cold! But I'm not crazy about being hot and sticky either.
Oh whine, whine, whine - I'm tired of hearing all this stuff - even if it's my problem to solve. I'm sure no-one else is going to find this fascinating. But I did want to get it off my chest and move on.
I should have entitled this the Old Lady's Lament. I just am not used to being an old lady. I had a strong and energetic body and I expected it to perform and, within reason, it did. For the last 10 years this wonderful body of mine has been deteriorating - in bits and pieces - and I ask but it doesn't respond, or if it does it's cranky and makes me pay. I expected better of it. But it is what it is. That doesn't mean I'm reconciled - it just means that I'm forced to accept reality.
I'm not what I once was and I probably never will be again. I'm lucky to be alive!! I just don't feel lucky. But maybe tomorrow I will - feel lucky that is.