Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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http://www.dailystrength.org/c/Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder/forum/21250683-complex-processing
My "Spastic Colitis" is quite painful this morning. Don't know what that is called in today's medical establishments, but again I pause to wonder how I ever accepted this much pain as JUST a part of every day life.
While the middle aged sons and their key players continue weaving their increasingly complicated lives around hubs and I, my feather harvesting experiments have been a gentle distraction to hold me steady through the yaddahs of blahs that are not mine to sort. Should I add a "Trigger Warning" before I add that I am still calling them, "Big Bertha" and "Shaq?" The roosters have much tougher hides than my 20th century knowledge wold have guessed. Well, for sure "Big Bertha" was a rooster. Hard to know gender with a Cornish X. Doesn't matter, anyway. They can't breed. They are the mules of the chicken world. I feel a touch of shame that I judged Shaq's feathers by his/her waddling as she/he struggled to keep up with the flock. The feathers and pelt are as stout as the build.
The new granddaughter is beautiful. So far she is so quiet that she needs to be woken up every two hours for her feedings. I am shushing my worry demon a bit there. That worry demon just spasmed in my colitis. . . Back, back, foul beast !!! My grandson (2 1/2) is not sure he wants the Big Brother Job, but he is adjusting. We hope. . .
Hubs and I think our last set of boundaries have been holding up with the middle aged children. (more colon spasms) Prayers in progress. For sure it is not a done deal.
Do first, define later. Not sure when I will be ready for the definition step. Maybe when my colon stops spasming? Small bytes and long chews. Especially during a colitis attack.
Just an update. Prayers -by whatever name- appreciated.
My "Spastic Colitis" is quite painful this morning. Don't know what that is called in today's medical establishments, but again I pause to wonder how I ever accepted this much pain as JUST a part of every day life.
While the middle aged sons and their key players continue weaving their increasingly complicated lives around hubs and I, my feather harvesting experiments have been a gentle distraction to hold me steady through the yaddahs of blahs that are not mine to sort. Should I add a "Trigger Warning" before I add that I am still calling them, "Big Bertha" and "Shaq?" The roosters have much tougher hides than my 20th century knowledge wold have guessed. Well, for sure "Big Bertha" was a rooster. Hard to know gender with a Cornish X. Doesn't matter, anyway. They can't breed. They are the mules of the chicken world. I feel a touch of shame that I judged Shaq's feathers by his/her waddling as she/he struggled to keep up with the flock. The feathers and pelt are as stout as the build.
The new granddaughter is beautiful. So far she is so quiet that she needs to be woken up every two hours for her feedings. I am shushing my worry demon a bit there. That worry demon just spasmed in my colitis. . . Back, back, foul beast !!! My grandson (2 1/2) is not sure he wants the Big Brother Job, but he is adjusting. We hope. . .
Hubs and I think our last set of boundaries have been holding up with the middle aged children. (more colon spasms) Prayers in progress. For sure it is not a done deal.
Do first, define later. Not sure when I will be ready for the definition step. Maybe when my colon stops spasming? Small bytes and long chews. Especially during a colitis attack.
Just an update. Prayers -by whatever name- appreciated.
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I did the dumbest thing today. I charged my earbuds, unplugged the block and put the block in my little bag instead of the earbuds. I wasn't happy about that when I got to the gym. What a dummy!
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Ever since I stopped doing therapy because of insurance, I've been feeling that old tense and irritable sense of anxiety and stress. I hate that. I was making so many strides and changes during therapy, my therapist would acknowledge all of my progress and accomplishments, and I miss that reassurance. Today I thought about it, and I made those changes! She would always tell me that I chose to...
Hope your innards settle down shortly.
Sure feel like a walking target these days. . . Clueless to where this turns to that or what leads to where? Missed guesses win me a ticket to the toxic people dump.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQlmgmR4a4g
Feeling rode hard and put away wet. . .
Also the double of a new grand daughter (yay!), but fear of a new tool in DIL arsenal?(freeze, withhold the love fear?)
Hugs Arfie.
J.
The married son and I have been doing well (prayers in progress) at developing an empowered father relationship that lets him speak as a father more than as a husband. Does that make sense? Still processing. . . I am not at all sure I have the right words for it. Whatever the right way to say it is, the father of my grandson has been clear about his desire to let his son and daughter have grandparents.
The DIL finally opened her metaphorical door a crack but. . . Yes, Jewells, you are absolutely right. Rebuilding broken trust is even harder than opening a metaphorical door. I am still guessing what I did to offend her. I only know that child bonds are cruel weapons. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Stepping small, praying big. . .
Bachelor son is adding his share of the drama, too. . . Eff Bomber zooming through. Yay you. But even there I believe the boundaries are holding. Maybe. More prayers. . .
My beloved and I set allot of new boundaries in 2015 in order to prepare for retirement. Our retirement planning did not factor in supporting adult children. The boundaries seem to be holding, but. . . New turf. . . Sure not feeling like a Super Senior Mom.
What does the perfect mother of middle aged children look like, anyway? Does Hollywood (or its affiliates) have a stereotype for that one? Something a combat trained veteran and retired construction boss can hope to live up to? Don't think I can handle a Fairy Godmother costume.
Hugs arf.
j.