Long overdue updates.

I’ve been meaning to update this for ages but the holidays and work have kept me busy.

First, my dad’s aortic aneurysm has doubled in size, and is now in the danger zone.  He decided to get the surgery to fix it, even though it’s fairly risky.  He thought that “open” surgery was the same as “open heart”, which he would not have done.  He’s seen my brother’s chest cracked open one too many times to go through it himself.  The surgery will happen sometime in January and my sister is going to fly in to help my mom with the recovery portion.

Christmas was good from the family perspective, but dealing with the parents was diffiult from a personal perspective.  I expend a lot of energy trying not to snipe at my mother, because her slightly quirky and annoying habits have been amplified hugely in her old age.  She talks incessantly, says inappropriate things, and doesn’t seem to process things normally.  It’s embarassing and frustrating.

She also can really hurt me.  An excerpt from a private online forum I’m a member of:

i’d like to start by saying that i’d really like to chalk my mother’s insensitivity to old age and brain decay, but she’s always been this way about certain issues so i really can’t. my mom is incredibly vain, no matter how much she denies it, and how it must hurt her that a daughter with “so much potential” like me can be fat and unattractive. what’s worse is that she knows how bad my eating disorder was, and how far i’ve come – and just because there’s a lot more of me to love these days doesn’t mean i’m not healthy. frankly i’m healthier than ever – because i don’t spend my days starving or with my head in the toilet. i’m just not “pretty” anymore in her eyes. in my fucked up head, what that says is it’s better to be thin and ill than chunky and healthy. i know it’s not true, but it’s so sad.

i digress. my mom’s favorite thing to do is comment on what i eat or don’t eat. even though i’ve constantly told her to just NOT say anything relating to food or weight around me, she doesn’t seem to get it. the last time we had this discussion, she asked me if i was “supposed to look like THAT” after getting a tummy tuck. what she meant was, fat.

christmas morning we made cinnamon rolls. i shouldn’t have to quantify this, but they weren’t big and i hadn’t eaten anything until 11 am. i was hungry. i ate the first one, then get up to get a second. when i sat back down, she smiled her ridiculous “i’m going to say something really nasty while smiling so i can say it’s a joke” smile, and said (i’m cringing as i type this) “oink, oink, little piggy!”

i considered strangling her, or forcefully shoving her roll down her throat. i considered throwing my roll at her and stalking off, but that was a waste of a perfectly good cinnamon roll. so instead my mouth hung open and i did nothing. occasionally while eating i would oink like a pig.

it ruined my christmas. i hate to say that her four stupid words had that much power, but it really fucked with my head and my day. i’m already having difficulty with my mom, and it takes to much to explain it here – but suffice to say that the aging process is making all of her most annoying habits magnified by 100. i spend my time with her trying not to be mean while trying to retain my own sanity. when she throws a zinger like that, about something she knows is off limits – it just really sends me over the edge. it’s like she can’t control herself, and i just really feel that she should. how can she be like that? will i be like this with my own kids? my worst fear is ending up like her – a babbling, nonsensical idiot who makes mean comments to the people she loves the most in an effort to “motivate them to be better”.

I look at my mom and wonder if I will do similar damage to my children’s self-esteem in a misguided attempt to “make them the best they can be”. I sure hope I won’t.

My dad seems to be doing better – or at least my mom heard me when I told her flat out, “If you choose not to go to therapy, I do not want to continue to hear about all the things wrong with your marriage.” She hasn’t called and obviously doesn’t plan to, so I’m sticking to my guns about not being her go-to person. I just don’t want to hear it anymore.

Mostly I’m glad the holidays are over, and on a happy note, the girls loved being with their grandparents. They will have happy memories of this Christmas.

When a Clean Bill of Health is Bad News

I have been waiting to post an update because my dad was being evaluated for both mental/physical reasons.  My mom thought he might have had a mini-stroke because his personality has changed so much.  I personally didn’t think anything physical had happened, but thought he might have early-onset dementia or Alzheimer’s.  Turns out nothing is wrong with him – not that they can find.

While he was pleased – and almost vindictively happy to tell us all he’s fine – my mom’s depression just got worse.  She was hoping something was “wrong” so that she had something she could blame his “meanness” on. 

I got to have a 45 minute phone call with my dad about it, where he told me he wanted to divorce my mother, but at 84 it wasn’t possible.  They can’t afford to live alone, and basically they still need each other, whether they admit it or not.  He made some bizarre statements during the conversation.  My favorite?  When he said that basically my mom would feel a lot better if she had a younger man (read:  got laid), and when he suggested that she was having an internet affair with someone because she “always closes her screen when I walk upstairs”.  O-kay.  I said, gently, that women had very different needs then men, especially at 74.  My mom is probably giving a very audible sigh that she never has to have sex again.  Or date. Or deal with men.  My dad is plenty for her.

This leads to the not-so-vague comments my mom has made about my dad “not feeling like a man”.  I think she thinks I’m naive. Hello, I get that my dad can’t physically have sex anymore.  No doctor has been able to fix him.  You can tell how angry he is, and how out of touch he is too, because he thinks that actually matters to my mom.  What matters is being near to him, having that intimacy.  They don’t have that anymore because they are too angry with each other to try. 

As if hearing about my parent’s sexual problems isn’t gag-worthy enough, hearing my dad talk about how my mom needs to get laid was just about all I could take.  I took a bunch of deep breaths and re-asserted that they need to go to therapy – individually and together.  I reminded my dad that he could live another DECADE and does he want to live like this?  Living like roommates, fighting all the time?

Only time will tell if my impossibly stubborn mother will make an appointment. In the meantime, I just grit my teeth and hope for the best.

Discussions

After another huge blow out between my parents, my mom is supposedly calling a therapist to get them set up with some marriage counseling.  I asked her why she was waiting, originally, to make the appointment.  She said it was because she wanted him to have his assessment first.  In my mind, the assessment doesn’t matter.  If something is wrong, or isn’t, they will still be the same people arguing about the same things.

Unfortunately I’ve been told quite a bit about what has gone on between them, including some of the words they’ve thrown at each other.  And I wonder if it will ever get this bad for Mike and me.  Can we be reduced to this?  To two aging people, hurting inside and out, flinging insults at each other over who helps around the house more? 

My dad got me alone on Sunday because apparently my mother had told him that “all” the children had seen changes in him over the past few years.  He wanted to know if I thought he’d had a mini-stroke. I told him no (because I don’t).  Thankfully he didn’t ask what I did think was going on with him.  He did ask if thought he was different, and I said as gently as possible, “Yes.” I explained that he was quicker to fight, that he seemed angry a lot, and he became agitated around a lot of activity.  I also agreed with him that my mother has changed as well.

The fact that both of them have hearing issues doesn’t help either.  They are constantly misunderstanding each other and getting in fights over things that neither of them actually said.  As I’ve mentioned before, it would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. 

I did tell both of them that the worst part of this was how much pain it has caused me, and angst, because I can do nothing but sit back and watch it unfold.  I had to put some tough love on my mother because I feared she’d continue to bitch nonstop about everything but do nothing to change it. I told her I couldn’t listen anymore unless she got some help, and so far, she has been respecting that. 

One major thing I’ve noticed - I had to force myself to write a political entry on my public blog today because I knew my dad would go off the deep end when he read it.  However, it’s my damn blog and I intend to post my thoughts when I feel like it.  I’m not planning to censor myself further, although I will try to not insult the Republicans too directly. I miss the old days when my dad and I could talk politics without him stamping his feet and leaving the room.

Is this what teaching me math was like?

For the past few years, I’ve been trying to explain to my mother the concept of interest.  My parents live on a very fixed income, and my mom runs the books.  During months when there is a shortfall (and there usually are), she uses her credit cards.  However, she has some money stashed away in a money market account, earning 2%.  Explaining to her that it is much better long-term to use her savigs accout when she needs money as opposed to sticking it on a credit card with 18% interest doesn’t ever seem to sink in.  She gets it, but she doesn’t change her behavior. She has a mental block with removing money from her savings because, as she say, “Eventually it will all be gone.” 

This inevitably leads to the discussion that yes, her money will eventually be “all gone”.  And when it is, it will be up to me and my siblings to put more money into that account. 

What drives me nuts is that this is the same woman who won’t go grocery shopping on a “lean” week, but will go to Kohl’s and buy my kids crap they don’t need.  She says it makes her happy, but it makes me stressed.  First, I don’t want my children expecting that everytime their grandparents show up, they have something to give them.  Secondly, my kids have more than enough. I’m forever going through the playroom and donating toys and clothes.  Thirdly, my parents really, really cannot afford it. 

My dad, at 84, bags groceries at a local store.  He makes $8/hour.  He does it to get away from my mom and to have a little bit of spending money.  However, my mom doesn’t understand what a difference that little bit of money makes every month.  It enables them to eat out, it enables them to do some home improvements.  My dad won’t be working for much longer.  Standing on his feet for 9 hour shifts isn’t good, especially when he suffers from leg cramps.  I just worry about what they will do when that extra cash isn’t around. 

The last time my mom and I had the discussion about credit cards vs cash, she got really frustrated with me and yelled at me. I probably yelled back.  It reminded me of the nights I’d drag my math homework out and sit at the kitchen table with my dad, who had the patience of a saint.  I’d get surly and angry because my brain could not, would not, grasp what everyone else seem to grasp. I’d get so frustrated with myself, I’d end up crying.  I can see it on my mom’s face.  She knows that I think she’s not being very smart, and she’s angry at me – and herself – for continuing to dig themselves into a hole out of which we will end up bailing them.

Why I’m Here.

As an avid and diligent blogger, it’s in my nature to blog about everything and anything that is meaningful or moving to me.  Unfortunately, one of the things that needs to be written about for my own mental health is off-limits on my very public blog.  This is because the subject I speak of happens to be my aging parents.  The aforementioned parents read my blog regularly. 

I was born in 1971.  At the time, my dad was 47 and my mom was 34.  Apparently the birth control malfunctioned, and my little life begun.

I currently live about 20 miles away from my parents.  They’ve lived near me for the past 5 years.  It’s been a beautiful mixture of happiness and bitterness, anxiety and joy, deep love and deep anguish.  They have been able to be an active part of my children’s lives, but over the past few years, my dad has really gone downhill. 

So that’s why I’m here.  I know that what I’m going through isn’t all that unusual, but I don’t have many people in my life going through this.  And most people don’t write about it – because that would hurt the feelings of the subjects they are writing about. 

The title of my blog reflects a comment I made to my mom a year or so ago.  I told her that when my dad first started going downhill, he was 80% Ron and 20% someone I didn’t know.  These days, the 80% is a stranger – and 20% still remains of that wickedly funny, impossibly positive person that raised me.  This blog will be a place for me to explore the journey I’m on with my parents, where the child has become the authority figure, and the many things I’m learning along the way.