family

I want what I want, wait what do I want again? #20

I’m the youngest of 5. My three older sisters and older brother all grew up together with 3-4 years in age. I came later, much later, 10 years later.  A real oooops I suppose.  What I do know about myself is that I have youngest and only child qualities and that can make for some difficulties, especially in relationships.  I take every relationship as a learning experience and continue to work on my 80/20. There is a theory that you really only get 80% of what you want in a relationship,  and you may want your partner to be an avid reader or have an appreciation for the arts but he/she doesn’t, but it’s ok because the 80% of what you do get keeps you happy. People often believe cheaters forever chase the 20%. The key is knowing what is in your must have 80% and what you can let go of and put it in your 20%.

This is a theory I have applied to many relationships, he is great in bed but doesn’t like to give backrubs, he compliments me and tells me I look pretty but he isn’t into going to concerts etc.  My friends and I are forever trying to figure out what is in our 80%, what can we compromise on and what are our dealbreakers.  I look at the wonderful man I am dating now and still think of taking my fluffy side sleeper pillow in the middle of the night admist his buzzsaw snores and covering his face with the full weight of my body, slowly pressing the pillow tighter till I create an unbreakable seal between his mouth/nose and the pillow.  Why the hell would I want to do that? he tells me he loves me, he wants to see me and drives 1 hour and a half regularly to spend weekends with me.  He cuddles me as I fall asleep and when I wake up in the morning.  He recently built me a side table that marveled the one I wanted to buy in a bullshit fu fu store in Oakbrook.  I literally and I do mean literally made a pros and cons list long ago to determine what was our  my 80/20.  Some of the highlights vulnerability (especially at the start), incrediably loving and supportive especially when my mother passed, great sexual chemistry,  very open minded sexually, takes responsibility, great around my friends, smart, and non judgemental.  There is much more so why do I tend to react or sometimes get stuck on the 20%?  My biggest gripe? he seems to run hot and cold which depending on if you come from my perspective or his can mean very different things.  I feel like the romantic little texts, the little sweet texts reminding me that he loves me, that he is so lucky, that he is thinking of me etc etc go a long long long way.  It’s the way to a woman’s heart and eventually her libido. It’s romance and as a youngest who usually had attention bestowed on her and is an extrovert who is accustomed to speaking up and getting what she wants this can be hard for me.  Whenever I have talked to him about this he does everything he can to respond and show me love in the way I am craving it.  He sends those sweet, caring texts he remembers to remind me of how he feels about me multiple times during the day and then it dwindles….again.  People have told me to put it in my 20% and move on but I can tell you those short little middle of the night or day texts expressing how he feels about me directly impact my connection to him.  I feel loved, cared about and important, in turn, I feel more love, care and importance for him.  I want to be more physical with him when I am romanced like that I feel more sexual, turned on, desired and desiring.

Depending on the friends I speak with, some agree, some say it’s not as important as I am making it, but perhaps it is.  Maybe I would rather trade someone who makes a lot of money for someone who would bring me a single flower, a card or a hand written note reminding me of how he feels about me. Wait not maybe I would. The things we consider uber important in our 20s are such a crock of shit. There has even been some shifting since my 30s.  Now in my mid 40s I think I am so less willing to give up on the 80% and what goes in there and if it meets my needs.  To someone else this might be minor but for me it is perhaps my love language and how I feel connected to a person, a sense of belonging.  It also no doubt fills a void from childhood, words of affirmation were not used in my household, from my parents for any of us kids.  My Dad instilled a sense of responsibility and pride you did what was right and what was expected because that’s what was modeled.  For my Dad thats how life was, you don’t do something for thr praise, glory, reward, compliments or accolades, you just do it.  My Mother on the other hand was rough and many times abusive and critical and manipulative. If she wasn’t expressing herself in this way then you were ignored…..completely. Like some ghost sitting among your siblings, everyone’s name was called for dinner except yours.  Now if you got up to get something to eat or make your plate she wouldn’t stop you but she didn’t invite or include you.  She was a master at the silent treatment and would often want your siblings to partake in not acknowledging your presence either.  We never did that to each other, well I do have one sibling that sometimes did because she was to starved form my Mother’s approval.

Real life sets in when you start a relationship the honeymoon and swoon turns to everyday routines and a comfortable compatibility.  I get that and I to a degree can accept that.  However I am realizing more and more how important the romance and verbal/physical expressions of love are to me and why.  I think for now it will remain in my 80% with a compromise that for now I will ask him for it when I need it.  Time will tell how we and I evolve.

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And the other shoe drops….. #18

The weird thing about my stories is that they have a reoccurring theme, I suppose most people’s do.  Mine I think maybe grinding  to a fine point so sharp that you almost can’t even feel the pain.  It is so close to unbearable.  I wonder if it’s my therapy of sorts,  I suppose writing is for most people.

I have started similar entries in the same way, reviewing my list of loss, be it people, relationships, pride, happiness, love,  a sense of myself, friendships,  self-reflection.   Heartbreaking.  Other losses have included the weight of the world on my shoulders,  people who haven’t loved the real me, responsibility, hurt, disappointment, selfish people,  hurtful people,  being under appreciated and minimized.  Heart mending. So I guess it balances out, I suppose it always does.   In my effortless quest to gain balance by controlling nothing I again find myself hurdled over an arch that for a short time I doubted I would clear.  On December 2 , 2013 the day before my deceased brothers birthday, my mother passed away.  December seems to be a fuck of a month for me, well my family and as you know they always seem to find themselves into my life.  December 2009 6 months after my dad passed away I was the last vote to remove my brother from life support and finally let him drift away.  My brother’s birthday is at the beginning of the month  my mother’s birthday is in the middle of the month and now like 12th month bookends my mother and brother’s death sandwich these 31 days.     In the typical lay out of my tragic events I tend balance the heartbreak and heart mend because of course with an enormous loss I also grow and cultivate a new relationship.  Enter M.  He first contacted me on October 19 on OKCUPID  late I was tired and wet, cold after the last Fire game of the season when a message came through that although short and simple made me laugh and smile.  I read the profile and knew within the first paragraph I would return the email despite never responding to people who lived far away.  The head turner ? his statement that he didn’t shy away from difficult conversations.

I played my favorite game of a  version of twenty questions.  He was game and he was good at it, very good as good as I am.  He was funny, and random, quirky, insightful, romantic, original, old school with and open mind, a quick wit and engaging.   We spoke till almost 2 in the morning before saying goodnight. A day later he wrote me again and the conversation led to us exchanging numbers and the next night texting which eventually led to a first phone call.

Right now at this very second,  I realize, I don’t even remember our first conversation.  That’s so weird but when I ask myself why, I realize this, I realize I never had a “first conversation” with this guy.  We have always spoke as if we have known each other, no awkward silences, no weird uncomfortable pauses, exchanges or realizations, never wishing I could hurry and get off the phone.   I can’t remember our first conversation because we never had one,  from the beginning it was Kismet.

Everyone once in a while you meet someone and you instantly connect like literally lock into each other like to pieces that snap together and, well, it feels easy.  I wonder how this ends up being my karmic path but it is and here I am.  To say I wasn’t close to my mother is an understatement but there was still a pang of tightness to my chest,  a great sense of loss and true sadness.  I’m sad we weren’t close and were not able to mend our relationship but I feel like I had already partly lost her and mourned that loss on and off for many years.  The role of mother that was never quite fulfilled by her but yet she still carried that title that position in my life.  The truth is I will only ever have one mother and she is completely gone now no longer a name or word or person I was reluctantly tethered to through my adulthood.   With that said I was forced to look around at my siblings, my sisters who all in some fashion and who all at different points in my life and theirs were mothers to me. Very different, very unique, teaching me things and in their own ways offering me support.  At times being the only true mother I had emotionally.  I had hoped this would draw us together but as is typical in my family it is pulling us apart, hurtful things brewing, selfishness, greed and mistrust.  My two oldest sisters cleaning out my mother’s house without myself and my other sister was probably the last dividing factor between us.

So here I am, during the 12th month sandwiched between the inter relation of heart ache and heart mend, which I suppose many people experience during this time of year for a variety of reasons, I wonder if their reasons repeat as mine have or is there yet a lesson I haven’t grasped or allowed myself to be submerged in.

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4/1/12 Breathing is not optional/15

Chest pain….breathe……pain in my lungs…..hard to breathe…..nauseous… gasp….ouch….ugh…….gasp…..

I’m fighting the feeling of wanting to puke, my chest hurts, I’m holding something in, it wants to explode it wants to release,  it’s literally building up in my throat, I can’t breathe, the words are hardly coming out……

Yes, Yes, I’ll call the lawyer tonight and leave my information tonight and follow up on Monday. The conversation fades in and out of my ear my sister is saying things but I’m not hearing it all,  just ….Lawyer, call, money, just us sisters, not mom…….

My sister Lucy called me and I missed the call, for some reason I just felt a weird sick response, my sister calls sometimes but this time the missed call made me feel weird made me feel like something was happening.  I took a deep breath and peed siting on the toilet I was thinking that it might be my mother, that this might be the, THE CALL that is the one that ends the existence of my parents on this earth.  I’ve been through it before when my niece had to tell me my dad died.  I picked up the phone and dialed my sister Lucy….waiting waiting waiting CALL FAILED, shit this damn service if I had to call and ambulance to save my life TMOBILE would see to it that I would die before receiving help.  I dial again CALL FAILED, I turn off my phone and turn it on again, dial and wait as I stretch my arm up hoping that will help. I hear a ringing.

Hello?

Hi it’s me what’s up?

I called you earlier and left a message

Yeah I know what’s going on?

How are you?

I’m good what did you need?

Betty called me and she wants your address and phone number, I don’t know if you are talking to her….her voice fades

Yeah I am talking to her why does she want to my address

I don’t know

ok.

I can call her and give her that information or you can….. she interrupts,   I would just just prefer if you call her

(I am assuming she has mail that needs to be forwarded to me) What does she need it for?

You should just call her and talk to her

This is now beginning to sound ominous. We talk about possible Easter plans and she invites a boyfriend that I am no longer dating I say no but I appreciate that she has extended the offer to him. He would probably come if I asked him to he is like that.  We wrap up the conversation with a promise to touch base on times for Easter.

Dial my sister Betty it rings and my brother-in-law picks up I say hi and ask for my sister. She gets on the phone and we exchange pleasantries and then I say Lucy said you needed my address what’s up? She begins to explain.

We got lawyer and he is working on claiming Tony’s 401k  for us, if we don’t claim it the state will keep it and it will be lost.  This doesn’t include the nieces or mom just us. Just us girls, just the sisters.  It’s been over a year so the creditors can’t touch it but if we don’t act now the state will get it.  So we have to claim it and he needs each one of ours information.

Ok I say and repeat the information back making sure I understood everything. I say for us? for the sisters right? she says yes and says again not for mom in a way that tells me she doesn’t want her to know. She says  “I don’t know if you are talking to her..” I interrupt “No, I’m not” she says “good I don’t want her getting involved”. I say everyone’s names out loud again to confirm I ask if she has spoken to my sisters. She says yes.

She gives me the run down and the information of the person I need to call and I have a sick feeling creeping up I can’t get off the phone fast enough.  The second I do it all comes pouring through.  I begin sobbing, I feel like I’m going to be sick all over the kitchen, my head pounds, my chest tightens, I sob and wail harder and harder and harder.  I walk to a chair in the front room and with my elbows on my knees I cover my face and cry into the mask of my hands. Tears and snot drip from my face, I feel like I can’t breath, my chest feels tight, my ear hurts, I feel dizzy, I’m loud, I cover my eyes with the backs of my hands and gasp for a breath, it’s hard to breath, my chest hurts, I get up to walk toward the bathroom my hands on the walls keeping me balanced and upright as I walk, entering the bathroom I lean over the sink and cry harder and louder I slide to the floor and struggle to catch my breath between sobs.  I feel like throwing up I feel like I’m having a heart attack, I feel like the day I finally let the grief out and allowed myself to mourn the death of my brother.  This time the difference is that I physically feel ill, I feel like I can’t breathe, I feel like my chest is tight, I feel like I need to throw up and I can’t stop crying, loud and hard.  My hands and arms twist around covering my eyes, face head and chest at times.  I can’t make it stop. I can’t make myself stop and I don’t know why this is all coming crashing back in this way. I feel so dizzy I think I might have to go to the hospital, I struggle to breath and think I maybe hyperventilating.  Several minutes go by like this and I can’t regain control or calm myself. 15 minutes feels like 15 hours.

Why? this reaction? I’m not even exactly sure. My niece had a meltdown when she inherited money that my brother had left her she felt guilty, bad or undeserving that she should have this because the reason she was getting it was his death.  I don’t think I understood it when she told me, I knew it made her sad but I didn’t understand the depth of that. It’s hard for me to feel good about this at all on any level, it’s hard for me to think about this, it makes me feel like I’m right back at square on with the progress I’ve made in moving forward after his death.  I never suspected that all those wounds would be ripped open like this again from such and event.

The last 2 days more of his songs have came on and I skipped through them rather than listen through them I always believe he is around me and trying to communicate with me but I rushed those songs through and didn’t listen and today he was finally heard.

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12/31/10 He’s died…./1

May 1 2009 I’m leaving work to go home for lunch to let the dogs out. I’m in a good place, I have just “come out”, late but have fallen in love with an amazing woman K. We didn’t see it coming but here we are about 4 weeks into our relationship. I check my phone because we are in that stage, you know where you text a million times a day but don’t say much more than how much you adore each other. I pull out my phone to receive my latest love note and I see a text from my niece says “call home asap”. I get a sinking feeling I pull over, as I dial I talk myself through what might be on the other end of the line.

“Aunt Lisa?,
“Yeah, what’s going on? what happened?
“Grandpa died.”

There it was, the words we all know one day we will have to face as our parents get older we know one day, one day it will happen and we try to anticipate our reactions but they never match the real thing.

“What happened, why, what happened?” my niece isn’t sure he appears to have just passed in his sleep. He woke up early showered and was waiting for both of my nieces to come by to go to breakfast with them. Sat down in the chair shut his eyes and passed away.

My dad is the best grandfather in the world, he was a pretty good dad to me but the job of grandfather was made for him, I was fortunate to see him in action as he loved, played with and spoiled my nieces. That day I realized the sadness that if I were to have children they would never know that love and joy of feeling like the most important person in the world and being so purely adored by their grandfather. I never really thought I would have kids but suddenly I became sad feeling like these imaginary not had and not even wanted kids wouldn’t know my father.

I was confused and literally disoriented, kinda starting to cry but more whimpering with a hearbeat that felt like it would pound through my chest.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, turn the car around drive back to school tell them your not coming back because your father just died. Turn around and drive back, go.

I pull back into the parking lot, there’s Kelly, she lost her dad, she knows what this is, she knows how this feels, she is walking out of school towards me she sees a look on my face and knows something is wrong, she asks.

She proceeds to hug me with all she is, she hugs me so authentically, so hard, so caringly that for a moment the world is on pause and I feel like the pain in my heart transfers to her. “I’m sorry, what can I do? I’m so sorry”. “I need to just go in and let our boss know.” I need to tell my student teacher who is sitting in my office and has just started working with me.

I walk into a fog, everything is muffled, I go to the office but my boss isn’t there I see the next person in line, M the school psychologist she’s my friend. She hugs me, she’ll let them know, go be with my family. I walk in my office and I tell C my student teacher she hugs me I tell her to report to M if she needs anything. I leave.

I sent K a text and she calls me I tell her what has happened and she asks me if she needs to work I tell her no I’m on my way to the funeral home and will call her.

I’ve never lost anyone before so I’m completely treading water and have no idea what I need. In fact for 6-8 months I do not grieve, I do not cry, I do not acknowledge the pain. Until in a therapists office, I engage in an exercise that has me imagining my father is sitting across from me and I tell him/the empty chair what I never got to say before he left.

Dad I want to thank you for teaching me an amazing work ethic. I get my sense of responsibility and integrity in relation to work from you. You modeled such an amazing example that I noticed at a young age and was always aware that you provided for your family. I want to thank you for my sense of humor, I love that you always cracked a joke, you were smart, witty and funny. I miss you, I’m sorry we weren’t closer near the end of your life, I’m sorry I didn’t make time to always see you and that I let the relationship with my mother interfere with me maintaining a  relationship with you. I hope your happy, safe and in a better place. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry.

I arrive at the funeral home my two sisters and their husbands are there F is taking the lead and asking questions and helping to make the arrangements. My sister N sits near my mother crying. My brother is not there, he’s too sick, been sick for the past 15 years plus he has let the diabetes win and lives a hollow unfulfilling life in my mothers house who cares for him around the clock. My nieces hug and kiss me and I make the same rounds with my three sisters though we are not close. None of us are really close as sibilings the only one I had a close relationship with was with my brother but my sister L and I try sometimes.

We are moved to a table and the person at the funeral guides us delicately throught he routine, prayer cards, flowers, ribbons, coffins, obituary, death certificate and on and on. I hardly speak, N my sister does much of the talking and then translating into Spanish to my mother. Decisions are made, books are passed between us and everyone nods and agrees to things we will never remember we agreed to. My niece P looks at me and says “what they hell are you wearing?” I look down at my long sleeve aqua blue shirt with a red and grey striped sweater pulled over it, my eyes follow down my legs to my cuffed jeans which expose two different socks, one striped one argyle and then all the way down to my feet, two different shoes. She then points to the four multicolored bubbly shaped barrettes in my hair.

“It was mismatched day at school today, I forgot I was dressed like this.”  Everyone laughs. Even the funeral director admits to thinking I was a little weird.

The arrangements get made and we start to leave, my sister asks if I want to see my father, no, no I don’t no. They are unable to show him to me because there are the remains of someone else there. The remains…..the remains, it sounds so removed from the person I called my father.  I want to leave, I want to get out of here, I want to go, I have to go. I go home and recount the events to K she hugs me and comforts me and takes the next few days off of work to be with me. 4 weeks in and here is where we are the first of many traumas we will be dealt in our first year together and the first of what damages me for the next two years.

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