Easing back in

So...a lot has happened since I was regularly posting.

One of the biggest things is that I have a job I enjoy.  It's not without its challenges and stresses, but mostly I feel good about what I do.  I still don't want to talk too much about my work in this forum, but it's mostly good.  And having a job I enjoy makes me feel like an actual adult, which is kind of nice.

One thing that has not changed is that my relationship with my father has continued to be weird.  I don't know how else to really describe it.  Did you know after my mother's death, he didn't call me?  He did call my brother but only to ask for her death certificate so he could begin collecting his full retirement (part of which she was collecting as part of the divorce).  He did send all three of his children e-cards.  As I remember, it was an animated thing with a lone wolf looking wistfully at the moon.  So, you know, he felt my pain?  Anyway, it has not gotten a lot better.

I got an email from him shortly before my birthday in December.  The email was addressed to my sister, brother, and me.  It announced that my father had gotten married to his woman-friend.  And he had done so December 31 of the year prior.  I was bothered by that.  Not so much that he got married, because they had been together either a little (or not so little) before or pretty much since he filed for divorce from my mother (depending on whose story you believe).  It was inevitable.  It also didn't bother me that I had not been invited.  After all, I did not invite him to my wedding--a slight, I later learned, that still miffs him.  But I get it.  It's his wedding, he can do it however he wants.*  No, what bothered me was that he waited, or felt like he had to wait, to tell me.  And that he did it in an email.

But fine.  I took some time and responded.  I wanted to respond in a way that would make things better.  So, I wrote an email that congratulated him first and a few times.  Then said, hey, you know, this is a sign that our relationship is not well.  And yeah, that's my fault, but it's your fault too.  I said I feel like you've tried to act like there is not a problem, but because you waited, that seems like an admission that there is a problem.  I think I said it was a positive step, because now we can figure out how to move forward.

I was happy with my email.  I thought, maybe it was even a mature response.  Adult-like.  And maybe it was.  But it was not perceived as such.  It was perceived as an attack.  So, my father responded very angrily.  He acknowledged there was a problem (which is progress), but said the problem was (pretty much) all my making.  Well, not really all mine, because he addressed his response to all three of his children, each of whom had expressed in separate emails our separate and individual problems.  But all the same, a good many of the grievances he aired were aimed at me.  Take for instance that 9 years ago I had decided not to invite him to my wedding.  I had not consulted with my brother or sister.  It would be weird to assume I had.  There were other things listed off, but most of them were aimed at me and my actions.  And, let me assure you, I did not handle his actions in the wake of his filing divorce with the kind of grace and aplomb you might normally wish for.  And I could try to justify that lack of decorum.  But I don't really.  I should have been better.  I often look back on my actions and think I should have done better.  I thought that was at least partially expressed in my response to his secret wedding.  But.  But there is a catch.  Here was my father telling me everything was all my fault.  Here he was inviting me to re-litigate our whole issue, when in all truth I felt he had been dishonest before and was continuing to be dishonest.  Here he was saying you either agree with me about the way I exited my marriage to your mother, or....well....he didn't state an "or" expressly.  But, I still felt it there shrieking at me from between his lines.

And I did not initially know what I wanted to do about it.  The thing is, I want to have a relationship with my father.  I had been willing to swallow a lot of what I thought was right.  I had been willing to try to bury my anger about how things had happened and say, okay, we move forward from here.  I suppose it wasn't a relationship as much as a detente.  A momentary lapse in the fight.  It was still there.  These were problems that needed to be solved if we're going to have an actual, real, meaningful relationship.

So, I set about writing another email.  I still wanted to respond in a way to make things better.  But, I didn't want to accept his "or".  And I wanted it understood that I was not going to agree with his version of things.  So.  I told him pretty much that.  I told him, I had been trying to get things to move forward and I was surprised by his anger.  I told him he should deal with his children as individuals and that if he blamed my siblings for my action, that he was mistaken.  And I told him I am not going to agree with his version of things, but that it's up to him to decide if he wants to find a way forward.  I tried to keep it positive.  I tried to keep it peaceful.  But I feel I failed on both accounts.  I think on reading it again my message shows my angst over this whole situation.  I think the end either can be read as a demand for him to help me find a different way to address things, or as a desperate plea.

Because that's the shitty thing about it.  He's my dad.  As much as I want to be angry with him, I know I owe him so much.  And there's a very big part of me that will always blame myself for pushing him.  I was in an emotional place, but so as he.  He was going through a divorce.  He was finding someone he loved and who he wanted us to love too.  I should have dealt with it better.  I should have been more patient.  I should have listened.  And that's all 100% true.

Here's the thing that keeps me from completely letting him have his way.  I'm willing to be introspective and adjust my behaviors and change my stance if and when I see my mistakes.  My father is saying the same thing and making the same demands since this all began.  He's made no apologies for his actions.  He's made no change in his stance or admitted to many (any?) mistakes.  It's not that I feel I should be stubborn to match his stubbornness.  It's that there is no negotiating with someone who will only take from you and not give you anything.  He'll just keep trying to chip away at me--at what I believe--until I believe exactly what he believes.  And in a relationship that should be based on love, that's really bad.  A betrayal, really.

So.  I will wait for his response.  I will wait for his response and know there's a high probability that I will be disappointed.  I am going to try to give him as many chances as I can--there's a reason I think of him as the prodigal father.  And I will try not to be angry or pushy.  But man it's a challenge.

*Turns out, how he wants is at an Original Pancakes house, which, alright, cool, I guess.

I don't know...

Maybe I will post on here again.  I mean, it's still here.  And I still like to pass the time by writing about myself.  And it's not like you have to be reading this shit.

Sometimes Music is no substitute for tears...

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of my Mother's death.  And it has been a rough fucking year.  The kind of year that makes me miss her unconditional love.  Even if she wasn't always able to talk to me the way I would have hoped, I knew she loved me, fiercely and without any qualms over anything I have ever done or said.  And there was nothing that could change that.  That's such an amazing thing that I not only took for granted, but that I didn't understand.  The world is a much scarier place without that kind of support.  And I have not figured out how to be brave.
*********
I can't thank Neil Young enough for his album "A Letter Home."  I first heard his version of My Hometown while I was driving down to see Mom for the last time.  I cried when I heard it, because his voice so perfectly captured the remorse and sadness I was feeling.  And the whole album takes me back to that feeling.  It has helped me get in touch with the feelings I would rather bury.  And it has kept me human in this year.
And if you have listened to the album, you know he's using it to talk to his mother.  The way he talks and the things he says makes me feel so warm and so happy.  It makes me wish I had a magic box too.
Music is amazing, because if you let it, and if you're lucky, a song, or a whole album of songs, can be there to help keep you going.
***********
This year has been one of such disappointment and sadness.  But, the nice thing is that I feel like things are now heading in a good direction.  I just started a job that I like.  And I work with people who seem pretty great.  And I have been so lucky to have friends and family who love me and who support me.  And that keeps me young, even as it feels like the world is pulling me away from youth and fun and life.
Things are going to be okay.  Hell, they might even be great.

drek

It's been six months (just over) since my Mom died.  It seems like I should be less surprised about that.  Or less surprised that it hurts still.

In which I stumble on a thought, maybe a point, and maybe even an idea that might be helpful to no one but me.

When someone you love dies, it changes you.  Or at least it changes how you see yourself.  Which is my way of saying my Mother's death either changed me, or it changed the way I see myself.  I am not sure which, but one or both is definitely true.  

I know I'm technically still my Mother's son.  It just feels like that doesn't mean the same thing now.  Not that I had completely figured out what being her son meant when she was alive.  It's complicated, and probably more than a little boring for someone to read about.  Not that boring you is going to stop me, but it's not exactly what I'm trying to think about here.  What I'm trying to think about is how does her death change me.  Is it just in how people view me, or is it also about how I view myself.  And is this a permanent change or something that I'm going through and will come out the other side of, at some point.  

Certainly, I'm feeling and thinking about things differently since her death.  And I'm not my sunshiney-best right now, that is for sure.  But I feel like that is the superficial stuff.  That stuff will change as I get used to the idea of her not being around.  Of her being dead.  

Oh, I'm beating around the bush, I think.  There's a thought here that I'm not quite expressing, mostly because I don't know how.  So, I'm just gonna type and we'll see if I get there.  My mother died almost four months ago.  I've muddled through, all the while hoping that I would either be a different person or be the same person, and never knowing which, if either, is happening.  On the one hand, I watched my mother die.  It should be really traumatic, and it was.  But, I don't have any idea what that means about me.  I don't know if that's a natural thing I saw happen.  I don't know if I am scarred by it, or if I find it comforting that I got to be there for here at the last.  I feel both, which is okay.  So, yeah.  I'm conflicted.  Okay.  That's progress.  Progress is good.  

I wish I weren't conflicted, which only adds to the conflict, but that's me.  That's always been me.  So, that's good.  I'm still me.  

But at the same time, seeing that was traumatic.  There is scarring.  And that's the kind of scarring that changes a person.  Have I changed?  Probably.  But it's hard to tell for sure.  It's only been four months.  So, yeah, who knows, I guess.  Not a terribly comforting way to leave things.  But the comforting thing is it's still so new* that I can hopefully help shape the way this changes me.  I don't want to be someone who faces disappointment and loss by simply enduring the hardship.  I want to continue to learn from loss.  I want to find bright spots.  I want to find a way to live positively.  

How to do that, is the hard thing.  My Mother's last few years were not, by my estimation, happy years.  Her husband of over 30 years divorced her, leaving her for another woman.  She never quite recovered from that loss.  She was still angry about it the last time I saw her, which was over six years after it happened.  She had every right to be angry.  I was not, and am not, happy about it either.  But, she let that loss determine too much about who she was, and how she thought people saw her.  Other losses, prior to the loss of her husband, also seemed to have this effect.  My Mom loved to smile and laugh, but it grew harder and harder to see that smile in her last years.  She seemed just to endure life.  There was little joy in her life, it seemed to me.  Some of this, no doubt, was depression or some related mental illness.  And that complicates how I look at things, because it means that in a lot of ways, her actions were not the ones she would have chosen if she had not been suffering from those illnesses.  But, if I am able to choose how to approach life (and I think I am at this point at least)**, I do not want to simply endure.  I want to make sure I find joy no matter what loss comes to me.  

My Father's last few years, on the other hand, have been outwardly happy.  He is living with his woman-friend.  They are not technically married, from what I understand, for financial reasons.  But other than having the legal paper, they are married.  He lives near his family, and gets to visit them.  He seems to frequently visit his woman-friend's family.  He calls their children his grandkids, and seems very happy.  But I like his path less than my Mother's.  My relationship with him is reduced to pretending everything is okay and not discussing anything that might be uncomfortable.  My Father does not endure, he only enjoys.  And if he does not enjoy something, he ignores it.  I don't want to do that.  I want to be able to face my challenges.

So, as I have done so many times before, I look at my parents as cautionary warnings.  I think I am much more susceptible to going my Mother's way, mistaking silence for strength, and not getting help when it probably would be better, healthier.  Being aware of that is probably helpful.  Hopefully it means I am on my way to doing things differently.  Doing things my own way.  I think that's part of the reason I share my thoughts on this blog.  I don't know that anyone reading this gains much by it, but I gain a lot by having a place I write down my thoughts and share them.  It's therapeutic.  And I think it keeps me thinking about who I want to be, and how I can get there.  

*Note 1. Four months isn't that long a time to be dealing with this, I think, especially since some of my dealing with it has been trying to not deal with it.

**Note 2.  I do not mean to make light of my Mother's possible mental issues, or to brush them aside.  They were a big part of why she acted the way she did in her last years.  I don't mean to imply she could have acted differently if only she had made the choice.  I only mean that I think I can act differently because I do not suffer from depression right now.  

Gumshoe continues

It's like I didn't forget about this.  Sorry for the delay.  It's been busy.
http://desmoinesgumshoe.blogspot.com/

More about me

Last night I had a dream about my Mom.  I've had some of them over the last couple months since she died.  Most of them I don't remember.  The ones I have remembered have been pleasant.  Mom is happy or smiling.  It usually leaves me with a melancholy happiness.  I'm sad when I wake up, but in a way that feels natural and good.  I miss her, it makes sense.

But last night's dream was different.  It was the first time she talked to me in her dream.  She only said my name, before I jolted awake.  I'm sure there was something in my head, some memory floating in there somewhere that tried to make her voice sound the same, but it didn't work.  I knew it wasn't her, but at the same time, the fact that she spoke to me in my dream was very disturbing to me.  I'm having trouble putting a finger on why.  I'm not someone who believes the dead communicate with us through our dreams, so it's not that I think my Mom was trying to communicate with me.  If I had to guess I would say it's a subconscious way of trying to get the contact I'm missing.  And maybe I wasn't ready for it.

*******

I have this recurring feeling that everything should stop.  That work should stop, that the lawn shouldn't keep growing and need me to mow it.  That it should all be put on hold so I can think about what the loss of my Mother means to me and how I want to deal with it.  But, of course, none of that stops.  And I need to take the time to think about that stuff on my own.  Except that I really have not wanted to.  I've enjoyed being a little overwhelmed with work stuff, and the lawn.  And when I have the free time, I've buried myself in books, video games, movies, or anything else that would let me feel like I do not have time to think about my Mother's life and death.  It has only been semi-conscious, but it strikes me that this is probably not all that healthy.

Of course, sharing all those thoughts here is probably not the best idea either.  But at least I'm going to start doing some of the work.

And of course, none of that stuff is going to stop.  And that's good.  In a lot of ways it feels like I stopped.  Stopped being a part of things in the same way.  Like I was jarred out of living the way I had been comfortable living, and now I'm rejoining things.  Slowly.  Or, I was trying to do it too fast, and now I'm going to do it more slowly to give me time to be more conscious about what I'm feeling.  I need to be more reflective when I'm feeling overwhelmed.  I need to be more thoughtful when I'm hurting.

Mom's last years were not happy ones.  It makes me sad to think about that.  It makes me feel guilty.  But it is the truth, I think.  There's nothing I can do to change it now, just like I think there wasn't much I could do to change it as it was happening.  I loved my mother, but she made some decisions that I think she regretted.  She made some decisions I didn't agree with.  And I don't view her life as any sort of cautionary tale, but I know she wouldn't want that for me.  She wanted me to be happy.  So, I have to do things differently.  I have to commit myself to living a happier life.  The misery is fine if it's not a permanent thing.  And it hasn't been, really.  It just washes over me sometimes when I don't expect it.

Maybe none of this makes sense.  It's hard to make sense of my feelings right now.