That's not so bad, right? Wife2's journey to understanding - and yes - triggers

[Wife#2]

Not every day is horrible. Really. Some days are so nice.....

Last night, H, DS and I shared a very nice meal H had cooked.

Afterward, H got started deciding how to proceed on DS's first shoe-box diorama project for school. It involves making little trees. H happened to have supplies from his model train days. So, we looked up pictures of the landscape DS was to do. H got started making one of the trees. He knew it looked horrible, but I hated to be so harsh. I simply grabbed up one of the other trees and the supplies and 'gave it a try' myself. H recognized that mine looked a lot better. Then, we called DS in to let him look at what we had done and try for himself.

DS did the best of anybody. He looked at the pictures, got the supplies and quietly, methodically, made two near-perfect looking trees! Needless to say, if we only need two, DS's will be the ones picked! If we need more, H and my trees will be discretely added in the far background! Or, DS can make more with his slow, careful, awesome way.

I was so impressed watching DS work. I was also so happy to hear H brag about what a great job DS had done! DS nearly glowed under the praise. All three of us laughing and being kind to each other.

THIS is the family life I hoped for. All three of us doing something together. Making a mess (my fingers still have spray-glue on them), encouraging each other, having fun! It was a glimpse into what so many families take for granted ~ this time spent together.

Anyway, I wanted to share this beautiful moment from my family last night. I'm hoping we can build a few more beautiful moments as we work together to help DS complete his project.     

[Kizzie]

Lovely of you to share this with us Wife#2, thank you 

[Three Roses]

That's beautiful, Wife! Thanks for allowing us a glimpse into your happy evening

[annakoen]

I don't know if it helps you, but I came here to say I have had various anxieties, fears, worries and inner critic voices that, once I got to the point of finally being able to identify them, I realized they were not mine. The ghost in my car when I was 18, was my dead uncle, whom I'd never known (I am not a spiritual person, I think ghosts are *, but my brain made it up and it was real to me back then). I remember, at age 20, realizing that he represented my mother's pain. Not mine. I literally got into my car one day and said "You are not my pain. You are my mother's pain. Go away." And it stopped.

I have tried to do the same with other things. My father's inability to grieve for his mother (never knew her), his father (took me 5 years to grieve because my parents didn't help us grieve), his brother, his failed marriage. Last week, I was on my bike and envisioned this huge ball of pain, blazing white hot. And I said "This is not my pain. I cannot take this. I cannot carry this. Please take it." And I envisioned giving it to my deceased grandmother, grandfather and uncle. I envisioned pushing it through the clouds upward until the heavens opened and closed around it. Again, not spiritual, agnostic actually, but it helped me, so what.

If you, at some point, discover that this discomfort about femininity was not yours, but your brother's discomfort, please try to set it down. Stop carrying that. It's not yours. Yes, you were sensitive to the rejection and it did affect you. But it's his discomfort to begin with. Not yours. Take it out of your backpack, leave it on the road somewhere.

[Wife#2]

Anna - thank you for sharing your story and for the reminder. I do want to put that discomfort back down (I had it off me at some point, not really sure how it snuck back into my life).

I'm turning your phrase for me to understand it better, to internalize it better. My brother's discomfort with my femininity is NOT my problem to fix or even bother with. If he's uncomfortable, to * bad. HE can grow up. He's raised two daughters to adulthood. One was a stunningly gorgeous tom-boy, the other a head-turning girly-girl. I figured their beauty was just deserts for his being a total dog to girls in high school - now he would be the father of girls like those he hurt.

I never even considered that this was ALSO his payback - to be the FATHER of such beauties. To be responsible for their view of men and of their own sense of self as women. His wife did her part as a good an loving mother. Considering some of the issues I see in his daughters, I do think part of his discomfort around me specifically is guilt. NOT MY PROBLEM. I couldn't change the way he treated me back then and I can't change the guilt he may feel now about those years. It's not my job, even if I could change it.

What I can change is to no longer feel responsible for his discomfort. I can go anyway. If I want to see our family, his wife or his children, I can go anyway. If I'm invited (though from his family invitations are rare and 'oh, I almost forgot Wife2' in tone), I can go. If he's uncomfortable, that's HIS cross to bear.

Sadly, I don't think I'll be able to tolerate it for long. His discomfort is so visible, so palpable, it's hard for me to enjoy ANYTHING with him around. That's MY cross to bear.

[Wife#2]

Another good day Saturday. DS8 and I worked on his project. We got it looking quite spiffy before H even woke up. When H did wake up, he was complimentary about what DS8 and I had done. He did have some ideas, but rather than just do them, he made a point of including DS8 in the process. He started to do it himself until I gently reminded him that the teacher had made the point that parents should make kids do most of the work. DS8 soaked in the attention and the thoughts - H's ideas really were spectacular. So, the project went from pretty darn good to fantastic. And, DS8 felt fantastic about it!

H was surprised that the whole thing was finished before lunchtime Saturday, thinking he'd have to give up his whole weekend to the thing. I asked what he wanted to do with that 'extra' time. After being crude and my face telling him that WASN'T as funny as it sounded in his head, he opted to just relax and enjoy the time with me and DS8.

I reminded myself several times that H can't read my mind and that DS shouldn't have to. I also stopped myself and enforced what I know: that it's better for DS if I don't jump and run and cater to him so much anymore. Children do NOT develop well if they never get to / have to do for themselves. DS resisted, but was generally good natured about it. H realized what I was doing and was completely supportive, teasing DS and me that it's a HUSBAND who gets to have someone cater to them (laughing, a total joke, I had to remind myself he wasn't serious or being mean).

All and all, a good day. One thing I did notice is that H will try to be light and funny. It's just that I, in my own dialogue inside my own head, sometimes lose sight that it was a joke and no ill was intended. I have been working on not being so sensitive that even jokes are seen as harsh. If I stop and really listen to what H is saying, his tone and body language, I see that he's just being silly! Something I thought he had lost ~ that ability. The truth, instead, was that I was so upset with him and with myself that I couldn't see ANY humor in ANYTHING the poor man said. We're getting better with each other, so this is improving as well.

[Three Roses]

That is fantastic to hear! 

[Wife#2]

There are good days and then there is today.  ** Possible triggers, don't really know yet **

I'm working hard to not catastropize the whole day. I messed up. Big. Hurt my son's feelings. Big. But, that does not make me a bad person. Just clumsy.

Taking his project into school this morning, I managed to drop it. Spectacularly, all over the school hallway floor.

Because, I'm a klutz. Because I didn't think to put the project into a bag to carry it - knowing I'm a klutz. Because I carried it with only one had - yes, the klutz. I'm not beating myself up over this by calling myself a klutz - that is just a fact of my reality. I've only had only brief moments of gracefulness. I loved them, but the were rare. Klutziness is my natural state. It's ok, some people are talented singers, some are talented actors, I am a skilled fall-recovery-klutz. I've received ovations at my ability to catch myself just before the face-plant or the flat-on-back fallback. Not every time, I had some amazing falls while learning.

Anyway, the point is, I know I'm a klutz and seem to have passed this - shall we call it an affliction? - on to my son. So, figuring the adult was more capable than the boy, I carried it. I thought of putting it into a bag for safekeeping during transport - AFTER the disaster.

So, now I'm going to have to battle my husband a bit. He's going to want to be the man and fix it. That's understandable. But, I caused the mess, I promised son I'd make it right. I need to do the work.

This is NOT a catastrophe. It IS disappointing and frustrating, but NOT a catastrophe. Yet, I've been MAKING it a catastrophe in my head all morning. ICr has been LOVING it, calling me stupid for not bagging the project, for carrying it with only one hand, for chatting with son instead of paying attention, saying how this is SO TYPICAL of Wife2... Oh, ICr is having a blast. 

So, time to calm down. Focus. Breathe. Reprogram.

I am not stupid.
I made a mistake. Those happen.
I can fix this mistake, and will.
The project is not lost. It is damaged. It can be repaired.
It wasn't even due today, so there is time to make it right.
Nope, still not stupid. Careless is the strongest ICr gets to say.
I may be a klutz, but I usually know how to overcome that tendency. One error in judgment does not make me a failure. or stupid.

I may have to repeat some of these a few times until I believe them. Hubby was trying to be understanding. But, I am afraid he will try to FIX MY mistake - and that it will resurface in the future as one of the many times he 'bailed me out' when I am completely capable of fixing my own mistake. How's THAT for a run-on sentence (my 10th grade English teacher just rolled over in her grave)?

[Wife#2]

I'm having one of those days where everything I say is the wrong thing. Not really everything, but a lot of what I have in my head is not the most helpful or kind or even coherent thing I could say.

This morning, I had to explain myself at least twice to my DS8. He was trying to be cooperative, but couldn't figure out, from what I was saying, what being cooperative would mean! That's when I realized this was a non-communication day. If it's short and not too complicated, I'm fine. Once the idea gets complex or detailed - I better watch out! My foot is likely headed for my mouth.

It's so frustrating! The words aren't wrong or offensive or anything like that. Just not what I meant to say.

I'm going to keep this post short. I may not be responding to folks today, but please know it's because I have lost my craft with words today. I am reading, I do care, I just don't want to upset folks with careless word choices. Here's to a hopefully better tomorrow!

[Three Roses]

This happens to me all the time! I hope your day goes well anyway.

[sanmagic7]

i've done that so many times with people i'm close to.  it's like we're just on different planes that day and the communication wires aren't connecting.    we've begun to recognize it for what it is, just call it by its name, and agree to let that conversation lie for another time.  and, the next time we approach it, it works out fine.

may i just say something about the 'klutz' thing?  it may just be my thing, but i don't like seeing people label themselves.  it's like they put themselves inside a box and seal it, which doesn't allow them to recognize that they're really not that label all the time at all.  maybe you're klutzy at times, but i bet there are also plenty of times when you're not klutzy at all, when you can balance things wonderfully, place them where they belong without dropping them or spilling or breaking something or tripping or anything.  those labels just don't give us any leeway to be anything else, and may even become self-fulfilling prophecies, if you believe in that. 

i know i'm klutzy at times, i do stupid things, i can't think of the right thing to say, etc.  none of those makes me a klutz, stupid, or slow.  they're just hiccups, speed bumps, temporary abnormalities.  i do believe we're so much more than a label, and that it's dangerous to constrict ourselves within one.  just my two cents' worth.

most of the time you have warm, understanding, generous words, especially with your son.  don't ever forget that part of you.

[Wife#2]

San  Of course you may say. It's good for me to be reminded that I am judging myself, and probably too harshly, when I slap a label on myself. Klutz is one I've allowed myself, though I typically resist labels also.

It's unfair of me, also, to tell my son that we are a family of klutzes. What if he, being his own wonderful self, should have a natural ability to play football (just like Grandpa) but never explored it because Mom always told him we were the klutzy part of the family?

There's more to discuss, but it's going-home time and I need to leave on time today.    Again!! You are a treasure to me, San, and I always look forward to your input!

[sanmagic7]

as i look forward to yours.  we are in this together, we're fighting it together, and we'll break it together.  keep taking care of you as best you can.  i'm doing the same.  it's not always very good, but it's the best i can at the moment.   i think some of the best gifts we can give ourselves are patience, kindness, and our very own truth.    powerful weapons in this battle for our mental and physical lives.  ironically, my narc ex used to sign off his emails with the words 'stay sane'.  he was part of the reason my sanity was in jeopardy in the first place!  so, big hug to you, dear wife2.  one foot in front of the other.

[Wife#2]

Happy Day After Halloween. Ugh. Just Ugh. *** Trigger warnings: bugs, rude mothers, whining (mine) ***

Seriously, this is going to be a gross, self-indulgent whine-festival with yucky critters that WEREN'T part of Halloween!

So, it wasn't enough that I had to work late and miss my DS8's Halloween trick-or-treating. No, that would be too simple. Shortly after most co-workers were released from their duties, I (and a few others) stayed to get the job done. The phone rings. It's my husband - I'm annoyed before I pick up the phone, we've already talked twice and I know what to do about dinner! The more talky-talky the less worky-worky and the longer this will take.

Me: Hello?
H: Wife, I think you need to call your mother. (He sounds concerned, not sarcastic like usual re: my Mom).
Me: What's wrong?
H: She called here sounding all crazy, crying and talking about needing to see you right away.
Me: I can't leave work!
H: I know. I told her. She wants you to call her. It does sound important.
Me: Ok. Let me do that now. (I'm really concerned. H doesn't like Mom much and he sounded sympathetically concerned for her - this sounded serious).

Mom: Hello?
Me: Mom, what's wrong?
Mom: Can you come over, please (crying) I really need to see you right now.
Me: Mom, I can't leave work right now. I just can't. What's going on? (I'm now near tears hearing Mom crying).
Mom: I just really need a hug right now. My chest hurts and I can't stop crying.
Me: (fearing her 3rd heart attack): Can you take a deep breath?
Mom: (Slowly - takes a deep breath. She's breathing. She takes an aspirin for the chest pain. She's talking about taking a tranquilizer!!)
Me: I will come to your house tonight, but I have to stay and finish my work. Will you be ok until then?
Mom: (Now breathing regularly) Yes, honey. Thank you. I just really need to see you tonight.

*** All thoughts of this being Halloween have jumped my brain temporarily - this is my MOTHER, she's survived 2 heart attacks but isn't that young anymore. And she's talking about chest pain! I do not see the manipulation. I do not see the expectation for me to drop EVERYTHING, including my job, to come running. This will matter when you read why ***

I call hubby back and tell him what's going on, that I can determine. I tell him I'm stopping by her place and bringing a sandwich to her as soon as I bring H HIS food. He reminds me that it's Halloween. I tell him it's unavoidable. She's been in full panic attack and my promise to come by seems to have calmed her down.

I push through all my work at a furious pace. I'd already had rib pain from sleeping wrong the night before. This stress makes that act up even worse. Finally, the work is done. I zip to the store, get sandwiches for everyone, zip to the house, drop off H's sandwiches and bring the others with me as I head to Mom's. I'm so single-minded, I don't even see my daughter, son and granddaughter drive right past me as I zoom to Mom's apartment. They see me, which I don't find out until much later.

I get to Mom's apartment. The problem that had her call me hoping I'd leave work, family everything and run to her side?


*** LAST TRIGGER WARNING IF YOU HATE BUGS ***

Her apartment has become so overrun with an infestation of roaches, she couldn't even hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. She can't sleep - they're in her bedroom. She can't bathe, they've taken over the tub. They're in every room on every surface. And the bug man sprayed yesterday morning. I can't do this. I am EF'ing like crazy back to childhood.

This is not the first time Mom has suffered a massive infestation. One of my earliest memories of being horrified was ** HERE IS A BAD TRIGGER - LOOK AWAY IF EASILY GROSSED BY BUGS ** at 6 years old. I walked into the kitchen wearing my pajamas. Typical of the 70's, they were atrociously busy and colorful. Still, my brother and sister looked at me and went silent. When I followed their eyes and looked down, there were roaches on my pajama legs. I screamed and ran, swatting at my legs. I can't even remember what happened later that day, just the look of horror and seeing why.

Then, there was the time we had a major infestation when it was just me and Mom after the divorce. We'd had ongoing bug problems always, but usually it was a small problem. So, I could convince myself that Mom had licked the problem. I did my part, washing dishes instead of leaving them in the sink, wrapping bread and other foods well before putting them back. This was just what we did. Yet, at least every two-three years, the bugs would get bad. Because, she wouldn't get rid of some of their favorite hiding places.

I don't know how to explain to her that she must throw away cook books from the 1950s if she wants to end this issue. Half the recipes are illegible anyway, thanks to bug remains (nicest word I can use here). There is much she will have to toss, but that is her issue. My solution is that I am not going back inside that apartment. Period. Ugh. ::: shudder :::

I am revolted to my core. When I moved out, I had a minor bug problem. I handled it. When H and I moved into the house we're in, there was a small bug problem. We handled it. We have had problems ending the sugar ants, but we have no roaches and we want to keep it that way. She is a grown woman. If she can't get a handle on this problem it will be HER fault. IT already IS her fault.

My sister has been trying to make excuses for her, taking Mom's word and blaming a neighbor who moved out 5 years ago. But, the reality is, if Mom had listened to the apartment management 5 years ago, she wouldn't have this problem now! But she won't! She's going to keep doing things HER way and expecting the results to be good this time. With nasty cookbooks, bugs living in every major appliance, under the carpet, behind photographs, everywhere.

So, I called that sister last night and told her that Mom was hysterical and that she needed to call Mom to calm her down before I could get away from work.

They cook up this idea to hire my daughter to clean Mom's place. OK, in their defense, they hired her to clean it before and she did a super-terrific job. But, this time it's worse and last time she didn't charge enough for the )(*^&^*&^ they put her through, especially Mom. So, I had to warn my daughter that they would be calling and to charge as much as she could. This job was no 'Mom/Nana discount' job. She understands.

So, in the end, my day was crazy busy until my husband called with news of Mom's melt-down. And my day slipped off the scale after that. And I missed seeing my DS and my DGD in their costumes. I missed seeing my DGD and DD completely - they'd already gone home before I got back home from Mom's.

So, thank you, Mom. You couldn't melt down over the weekend? You couldn't wait until the first of the month to melt-down? It HAD to be Halloween. Thanks.

I so wish sister had allowed Mom to move in with HER in THAT state for a while. Maybe then, she'd see the crazy I deal with all the time. Mom can hide it from many, but I'm her baby so I get to see it all. Lucky me. ::: big last shudder :::

[sanmagic7]

living in mexico, i've seen my share of roaches, but we do take precautions to keep them at bay.  i'm so sorry you got roped into that whole charade, wife#2.  how awful!  and, i know that it's not that difficult to keep a handle on the situation, but it does take persistence, which it sounds like your mom is lacking. 

but what was the deal with the chest pains?  was that just to get you over there, give her some attention, get you to take care of the problem?   quite a nifty manipulation.  dang!  and that's something that is so difficult to ignore cuz what if . . .

how horrible to have a perfectly wonderful holiday ruined like that.  i hate it.