Friday, January 22, 2010

What I want to say...

I am here, at home, visiting my parents.

Yes, my Dad is still home.

And I want to tell you that it is all great. But that wouldn't be true.

I also want to sit here and cry (via the blog) to you about how awful it is to change your father's diaper, to find him soaked in urine at 5:30 in the morning, to ask him if he likes being at home versus being in the nursing home and have him tell you that he just doesn't care, to see that he can barely carry on a conversation anymore...I want to cry and cry and cry about that and the fact that stupid cramps started last night too (yes, stupidly as it sounds I still get my battered little hopes up every.single.month) but then I think: "Come on, everyone has their problems and no one ever guaranteed things would be easy in life."

All of this is true. It's awful and sad and breaks my heart. It's also true that no one guaranteed things would be easy in this life. life was relatively easy growing up. I was spoiled. I was sheltered. I was loved and indulged and loved and indulged.

I was protected.

I was taught that if you worked hard you were rewarded. That if you did good in the world good would come back to you. I was also taught (and teach it every day of my life in clinic) that if you take good care of yourself you can remain healthy.

And up until a few years ago, my world remained fairly intact. I operated within the rules I had been taught and life was good.

Then little by little, piece by piece, my world started getting rocked. Sometimes with giant, shattering earthquakes that took me to floor (literally) and sometimes with small sequential disappointments that piled on top of each other until they were a giant snowball of sadness. I've been knocked down a few more times very recently and frankly I am sick of it.

But isn't everyone? Isn't this part of growing up? Of realizing that this is just the way life works...a series of compromises, and lowered expectations and realizing that who are you to get what you want in life?

I know I sound bitter. I know I sound like I'm whining. I'm not trying to, I'm just trying to make sense of things.

Those of you who are parents--you are likely doing exactly what my parents did. Working hard to love your children and surround and insulate them in a bubble of happiness and light. You'll teach them to work hard and do good things in life and that life will reward you for it--because who's going to tell a five year old that life is hard, that life isn't fair, that life sucks sometimes?

But it's 5:45 in the morning and I'm rambling. But if I don't talk here, I fear I will just slowly, silently implode.


  1. I am so very sorry and angry that you are continuing to go through such difficult times - I am here and I am thinking about you.


  2. I'm so sorry that you've been dealt this horrible unfair hand. Hoping beyond hope that you will somehow, someway break through all this bad luck and will find yourself blessed beyond measure. Always thinking of you.

  3. I can hear your heartache across the miles. We think of you and Mr. LC so much. What you wrote about life is so true.

  4. I totally get that you are trying to make sense of things and sometimes life doesn't make any sense. All we have to do is read the paper and look at the headlines every day. Sometimes I think that life is a series of random events and when it comes time for something to happen, you stick your hand into a jar full of different possibilities and sometimes you draw something really good (like winning the lottery), and sometimes you draw something out that's really awful (bad health). There's just no rhyme or reason to any of this. I really, really hope that next time you stick your hand into life's fishbowl, that the golden ball comes out in your hand. Until that time comes, keep writing and blogging. We're all here to listen and lend an ear and one day, you'll figure out what the next step is. Hugs.

  5. You're not whining, you're feeling. And I can totally relate, I too was fortunate in my life that I didn't get my world rocked until my 30s. It sucks, its hard, and sometimes I can't find the rhyme or reason for any of it. I dunno, I don't have much to offer you but my ear (or eyes) and the words that I'm here to listen (or read) and that makes you less alone in this. ((HUGS))

  6. I hear you.... and i agree, it sucks. I don't think we'll ever learn to understand?- but to accept- when you can't do anything else about it. it's so hard, but accepting is the only thing that has helped me move on from some awful things life has thrown my way unexpectedly- it's so hard but you learn to live more "comfortably" with the situation. it took me something pretty traumatic to "learn" this and i stopped asking why- it's just life.
    At the same time, life has thrown some pretty great things my way too unexpectedly- hope you get some breaks soon too.
    hugs, sofia

  7. Here is the thing with me...I don't know that I would change my father's diaper and that makes me feel like crap.

    I hate how things are going for you right now.

  8. I don't think you are whining either, and even if you were, you would certainly be entitled. I am so sorry that you are going through all of this with your father on top of everything else. It is entirely unfair and I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is. I can barely take care of myself these days. Bit I also know that we are all stronger than we give ourselves credit for, and that definitely seems to be the case with you. You are an inspiration to me and I'm sending you hugs too.

  9. I don't think you are whining. I think that you are processing.

    Although I am not an inherently angry person, my immediate reaction to being hurt is anger. Anger before sadness. And then anger with sadness. And then anger after sadness. See a pattern? I was SO angry when my husband lost his leg. I was so angry when he got the staff infection. I was so angry about being infertile. I was so angry that my dad had left me to run the business alone in the midst of my infertility and my husband's (at the time) super awful health. I was so angry that my life was NOTHING like what I thought it should be. While everyone around me was having babies and bringing home a nice pay check for a 9-5 job I was literally drowning in miserable responsibilities and still barely able to pay my bills. I was so so so angry for so so so long. And the one day, all of a sudden, I just realized that no matter how much I don't like it, life is just a crap shoot. Some people get to have two feet and some don't. Some people get to leave their jobs at work and some don't. Some women don't have to worry about being the one to pay the mortgage. Some women don't live in isolation for months at a time because their husband is doped up on so much Oxycotin that he can't even hardly sit up. Some people get to have kids any time they want. And none of those are me. And, for the most part, that is just luck. That is where my life was for no reason other than random chance. I actually wrote a blog post about this. Most of the people who left comments said that is all well and good but it doesn't make them feel any better about having IF. But, for whatever reason, really internalizing that it is just luck somehow DID make me feel better. I don't know exactly why? But it did. Somehow.

  10. I don't think your whining, I think you have it rough right now. I can't imagine going through what you are going through and I DO hope that all this hard work will come back to you!!! Its what I believe too, and I really hope things start to change for you!

  11. It doesn't make sense to me how some people go through life and everything is just FINE and then other people get dealt a shitty hand time after time. I spend entirely too much time obsesssing over this, and yet it has changed nothing. I hope things take a turn for you guys.

  12. I'm so sorry that you are going through h.ell these days. You are an incredibly strong woman and I keep hoping that all your dreams will be answered...and soon!

  13. definitely, definitely not whining.

    Far too often, people talk about parenthood like it is the only way to experience self-sacrifice and unconditional love. And I think about people caring for aged parents and think: no, it isn't.

    Sending you much love.

  14. I wish I could say something that would help take the sting away, but I recognize that, in this situation, nothing anyone can say will really "help."

    My heart hurts so much for your valiant dad. It hurts for the pain you're going through watching him desperately try to stay afloat. But thank God for you. You are one of his angels, for sure.

    Life is such a damn crap-shoot. I've decided that there can't be any sense to it. There aren't any rules. I, too, was raised in a "if you work hard enough, anything is possible" household. And even though I found out long ago that this isn't always true, I think it was a fairy-tale that helped me power through my childhood and adolescence.

    I'm rambling now. Just know that I'm shaking my fist at the sky right along with you. *hugs*

  15. **
    i wish you didn't have to live through these trials of life, but someday, you will be somebody's mother and everything you lived through before that day will make you stronger and able to see that wading through all of this shit was worth it.
    right now, it must be hard to be your dad's daughter...i know what its like to have a depressed parent and even as that pales in comparison to what your dad is going through and how he feels that's the closest i can come to understanding. he doesn't want to feel that way, he is just reeling, like you with the realization of the injustices of this world. poor guy. i'll bet he would give anything to ride his bike or tractor again or go to the bathroom without his family having to change him. things HAVE to get better. for him and for you. like i said, im sending hugs xxxxxxx

  16. ok my sending hugs comment disappeared...i had written on the top that *my comment was disguising itself as a hug* i put the wrong brackets around it and just got **...damn html

  17. Thinking of you... And you're definitely not whining!!


  18. I don't know. It's supposed to be that way - work hard, etc, and you reach your dream. When it doesn't, and it's something so central to your being, it's shattering. The closest thing I can equate it to is a death.

    The death of dream, the death of your father's life as everyone knew it. You are grieving things tangible and not. (((HUGS)))

  19. I don't think you're whining. I agree with Me- you are processing. You're trying to figure out your new reality, reconciling it with your past, and trying to take a stab at what the future will be. It's hard. It's hard when it's crap you're having to deal with (IF and your dad's poor health) instead of something fantastic. When crap happens, which it does, to everyone, sometimes back to back to back, it's even harder.

    I grew up the opposite of you. Very much the opposite.

    I don't know that I would react that differently. You love your dad- you only want the very best for him. You want your own children very much. They are so close to your heart, you aren't going to just roll with the punches without being hurt, sad, upset, angry, etc.

    Thinking of you, your dad, your family. Big hugs. One thing at a time, one thing at a time.

  20. My heart goes out to you. I can only imagine how difficult it is to see your father like that. I too long for they days of being more sheltered, and not knowing how difficult things can be. I'm sorry you have to go through all of this. It's not fair at all. Hugs.

  21. I have spent my 30s absolutely shellshocked by the fact that life can get so shitty. I mean, I always knew there would be hardships in life. But, I thought that meant there would be men I loved who wouldn't love me back and there would be jobs I really wanted that I wouldn't get. I didn't think I'd have to watch my parents fight for their lives in their early 60s. I didn't think the things that I thought would be "gimmies" (live having a baby) would elude me after years of sacrifice. And, no, I don't think it's like this for everyone. I know many people our age who have never dealt with hardships worse than the lost love or the job they didn't get. You have had it harder than most. And it isn't fair.

  22. You're not whining or bitter, you're real. (((Hugs)))

  23. Someone older and far wiser than me once laughed at a fitness-obsessed friend of mine and commented that although slighter and considerably older, he was certain he was stronger.

    He countered my surprised expression by saying that as you age, your muscles get stronger. Not bigger, just proportionally stronger than when you were younger. Something about the fibres knitting together more tightly.

    Anatomically, it may have been complete twaddle, but it's definitely true about your heart. As the years pass and we grow more beautiful, more clever, more truly wonderful, the sad side effect is that we also begin to see the real, inevitable harshness that is life. Our parents, our friends, will die. So will we. But every moment before that time is a moment in which we can be amazing. What you are doing for your father is jaw-droppingly amazing. The love and care and attention and understanding and compassion and support and dignity you're providing him might feel like acid-etching traumas at the moment, but I guarantee that you will be able to look back on your life and be thoroughly proud that you were able to return and repay the love and dedication to him that he showed to you for so many years.

    Your heart is getting stronger. It might not feel like it now, but you will cope. We all carry around our compilation of life's pains, just beneath the surface - I've never met anyone who's not emotionally scarred in some way. We all understand, we all wish we could help. Honestly.

    I'll be cremating my father on Monday (well, the truth is that my father's second wife will be), but, in all honesty, we had only a fraction of the relationship you have had with your own Dad. It's a relationship that you should be so proud of, even to this day. Because he protected you in your hours of need, and you are doing absolutely the same back.

    You're a wonderful person and I just long for life to give you the reward of children that you so deserve.

    [...And so what if you fancy a whine once in a while? F*ck it - you go for it. x]

  24. You are so not whining. You are trying to figure it all out and make some sense of it. That's how I process things too. And blogging about it has helped me immensely. I'm so sorry that you keep getting hit with these punches. I think about you frequently. Take care.

  25. Just sending some support your way. We're here for you -- and am so sorry you are in such a difficult, dark place right now.

  26. I'm so sad to read about your dad. I can't even imagine how hard it is for the both of you.

    Yes, life can be hard. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - bad things happen to good people everyday. Sending a hug your way. BTW, I don't care if you are bitter or not. I'll beat up anyone for you that gives you $hit about being bitter. Be however you are.

  27. I am so so sorry to hear about your dad. I am thinking healing thoughts for all of you.

    I, too, was spoiled and sheltered growing up and when you grow up in that environment and then things in life are not fair it is really hard to cope with the reality and gravity of how bad life can be. My parents always did things fairly for my sister and I and it is really difficult to know that life is just not fair. I guss what I am trying to say is that I get it and understand what you are saying.

    Huge (((HUGS))) are being sent your way.

  28. I just wanted to say I get it. I get the part about having to take care of a parent like they took care of you when you were a baby. I lost my mom 8 years ago, and had to watch her detoriate before my eyes. I watched her fight for her life in the ICU, I changed her clothes, brushed her hair, helped her eat.

    It's hard. It's painful. It tests what little strength you have left in your heart. And I'm sorry. I am thinking of you.