The secret to any relationship is biting your tongue. This is necessary to keep the peace. You live and learn and learn to keep your mouth shut the next time around because it’s just not worth the time involved explaining why the person who is annoying you thru their own stupidity/ignorance is a total idiot over something and the situation they are blind on is crystal clear to Stevie Wonder, fer cryin’ out loud.
So, that in mind, I would like to open up the session of things I would like to say to someone but can’t because it would, well, suicide or take longer to explain why I’m right and they are wrong and be wholly more productive to shove a lit sparkler up my ass than to waste my breath on these idiots.
It goes out to: My Mom. I love her and she has a load on her shoulders that would crush a weaker person. She will never ever unload because she has a martyr complex. Brother #2 is 49, disabled by MD, he is bedridden most of the time due to severe depression.
When he is out of bed ( rarely) he is cranky and a know it all. He has no friends, no interests and no life. He might shower once a week, it’s really quite sick. (He is on anti depressants, but really, whats the point, he will not recover from MD.) He lives at home with her. The burden of living with such gloom and despair knowing that it will never get better is choking the life out of her.She’s 73.(She’s on antidepressants and finally started therapy about 2 years ago. It has helped, but not enough.)
She escapes from him every so often up to my Aunt’s house (her sister) for a few days.(When she does, he goes on mini hunger strikes and doesn’t eat for like two days. Not that missing a meal would hurt him. So, clearly he is mentally trying to black mail her, but she won’t bite.)
( She does volunteer work and does art classes,and doesn’t have to bath him or anything, but to go home to THAT atmosphere is a downer. He exists, a shell of a human, etc. I’ve lived there with him at the same time ( before depression really set in) and it’s like a bad smell that won’t go away.Eventually what happens is you start treating them like a peice of furniture.)
What she needs to do ( and I’ve been saying this for several years now and my aunt and uncle agree completely) is put #2 in a group home. There he will be forced to get out of bed and be social ( he is quite socialable when company is around, it’s just family that gets the crankiness.) and the group home can take care of him if he falls or soils himself, which has happened because he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. He does volunteer work - four hours a week - and he loves it. But that is all he is alloted, apparently at the hospital. He is also in therapy only once a week ( because that is all my mom can handle to get him up, dressed and shuttle him about.)(FTR, I’ve tried to help out: giving him magazines, books, videos. Things to get him interested in, spark conversation. After a years worth of People Magazines were untouched for well over a year because he didn’t have time and the videos I’ve left went ignored, I threw in the towel.)
She won’t do it. Says it would kill her to put her boys in a home. I’ve always responded with, “It’s killing you either way, at least in a home you have freedom and they (the rest of my brothers when it comes time) would have a social life, meager as it is and be taken care of.” Since my son was born she shoots back with, " Could you put him in a home."
What I can never ever tell her. What would crush her and her spirit and everything she holds dear, is that one of the reasons I waited so long to have kids is because of the genetic grab bag that is inside this adopted body of mine. Then I realized, outside of colds, I’ve never had a sick day in my life.
BUT, I had all the testing done during pregnancy and had my son turned out to have a defect, termination would have been a huge consideration. This would kill my Mom. ( I am the only light in her life and this is an incredibly huge burden on me to be a perfect daughter, which I’m not, but I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut most of the time around her.) I have watched her ruin her life through this self-martyrization and I will never ever be so close minded about getting help when EVERYONE (family, doctors, her other-not-that-bad-yet sons tell her the same thing.)
All I ask, Lord is that when she goes, make it a massive heart attack while she sleeps. No lingering. After the funeral and settling of her estate, I’ll do what she should have done years ago. Be the bad cop.
(Christ, sorry to be so maudelin. I was going to start this out ranting ( hopefully) funnily about my dumb ass sister in law and make it a rip on the retards in your life thread. But I get like this every December. Today would have been my Dad’s 78th birthday. In nine days, it will be the 24th anniversary of his death.I have fleeting memories of him. I hate this time of year.When you have a family life like mine, is it any wonder there is no joy in Who-ville.Then the opposites are my inlaws who despite a terrible accident have sunshine glowing out of their asses. I’m caught between the Valley of Shit and the Perky People and I don’t fit in either world.) I’ll perk up for New Year’s I promise.