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RAMBLE WARNING. I think I am in need of a reality check. This is going to be a long one.
I am lost in the image of a fighter jet which I call, "The Eff-Bomber."
One wing of my Eff Bomber was built during the McCarthy Era. Those idyllic days when Joseph McCarthy was protecting the American Dream with his infamous blacklists and public persecutions. Monday, Wednesday, Happy Days. The McCarthy Era wing of my Eff Bomber is my FIL. The wise, old gentleman whose opulent employee management has him dangerously close to the foreclosure which will take him and the semi-vegetative MIL straight La de dah Lane to a welfare nursing home. This weekend one of his employees attempted to ask me for help in the situation. This would be the employee who gives the majority of the care to the MIL. Her work is truly amazing. My heart is breaking because I had to warn her that her boss has fired every single employee who talk to me... The FIL still loves telling his beneficent tales of all his employees and his masterful management of them. Most of those employees have the look of crew members who know the ship is sinking. The rest look like sharks in a feeding frenzy.
On the other side of the phallic symbol is the Rap Era wing of the Eff Bomber. This middle aged man quotes the music of his youth in everything he says. Dr. Dre. Iced Cube. Ice-T. Schooly D. I tried to wrestle his Gangsta Rap collection away from him when he was in elementary school. I was attacked as a racist, of course. The fair-skinned wing of the Eff Bomber is not properly editing his quotation of the lyrics. His confusion over why some millionaires can profit endlessly by a single word which another millionaire can be sued in open court for uttering, even if they are quoting hit parade lyrics. The Rap Era wing of the Eff Bomber cannot hold a civil conversation, much less a job. He wants to be a boss like his granddaddy. Quoting the music of his youth is definitely not getting him there.
I have both wings of the Eff Bomber on what I call, "The Sir Line." An adaptation of it. I learned the Sir Line in the old Women's Army Corps. Not to be mistaken for the New Volunteer Army. The Sir Line was an unofficial policy which the Women's Army Corps used to protect Privates from booty calling officers and NCOs. The essence was to use their superior rank and honorifics like a big ol' paint brush to paint lines so thick and ugly that even the "little head" could understand them. In dealing with my Eff Bomber, I say nothing which is not compatible with a "Sir."
My husband is suffering horribly between the wings of the Eff Bomber. He is being squeezed horribly and I do not even see how I can help him...
Girl Howdy, I feel helpless, but I cannot bring myself to resume my old role in this family drama.
Reality Check. Am I lost in the Rabbit Hole again???
I am lost in the image of a fighter jet which I call, "The Eff-Bomber."
One wing of my Eff Bomber was built during the McCarthy Era. Those idyllic days when Joseph McCarthy was protecting the American Dream with his infamous blacklists and public persecutions. Monday, Wednesday, Happy Days. The McCarthy Era wing of my Eff Bomber is my FIL. The wise, old gentleman whose opulent employee management has him dangerously close to the foreclosure which will take him and the semi-vegetative MIL straight La de dah Lane to a welfare nursing home. This weekend one of his employees attempted to ask me for help in the situation. This would be the employee who gives the majority of the care to the MIL. Her work is truly amazing. My heart is breaking because I had to warn her that her boss has fired every single employee who talk to me... The FIL still loves telling his beneficent tales of all his employees and his masterful management of them. Most of those employees have the look of crew members who know the ship is sinking. The rest look like sharks in a feeding frenzy.
On the other side of the phallic symbol is the Rap Era wing of the Eff Bomber. This middle aged man quotes the music of his youth in everything he says. Dr. Dre. Iced Cube. Ice-T. Schooly D. I tried to wrestle his Gangsta Rap collection away from him when he was in elementary school. I was attacked as a racist, of course. The fair-skinned wing of the Eff Bomber is not properly editing his quotation of the lyrics. His confusion over why some millionaires can profit endlessly by a single word which another millionaire can be sued in open court for uttering, even if they are quoting hit parade lyrics. The Rap Era wing of the Eff Bomber cannot hold a civil conversation, much less a job. He wants to be a boss like his granddaddy. Quoting the music of his youth is definitely not getting him there.
I have both wings of the Eff Bomber on what I call, "The Sir Line." An adaptation of it. I learned the Sir Line in the old Women's Army Corps. Not to be mistaken for the New Volunteer Army. The Sir Line was an unofficial policy which the Women's Army Corps used to protect Privates from booty calling officers and NCOs. The essence was to use their superior rank and honorifics like a big ol' paint brush to paint lines so thick and ugly that even the "little head" could understand them. In dealing with my Eff Bomber, I say nothing which is not compatible with a "Sir."
My husband is suffering horribly between the wings of the Eff Bomber. He is being squeezed horribly and I do not even see how I can help him...
Girl Howdy, I feel helpless, but I cannot bring myself to resume my old role in this family drama.
Reality Check. Am I lost in the Rabbit Hole again???
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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...
Where FIL and mother are concerned your hands are tied, marriage makes it his place, unless he is determined to be psychologically incompetent. Your mother is in his care otherwise until the ship sinks. I am sorry about this since I believe that is where your concern lies.
Your son? well if he is living at home, with no means of his own finacial support...you and hubs can do something about that, let him out into the world and he may see that the conventionalism he berates, feeds him. Itmay change the tune, or he might learn to fly on his own... But you deserve the respect with in your own home. If he fails, then and only then offer support of filing for government assistance so he can be properly treated But even that will need the support of your husband, it won't do any good if he goes to dad for a handout if you are on the same page. You do him no favors compensating his behaviors, he should know it's not about love but about his reality check. That will take some of the strain out from under the roof.
Neither of these will be pleasant, but there is no easy way to take their own control without the paperwork in place to do so.
Hugs, You are smart, but the heart seems to blindside that sometimes.
Take or toss, just my opinion...But I did let go of my abusive daughter for 4 years...She learned that life without mom is not as full, we are rebuilding, she is keeping her episodes quelled around me a lot better....by about 90%, from before.
Doing nothing can be the hardest something to do... I am trying to be supportive and gracious as my husband learns first hand what I tried to tell him. Time for another Mark Twain quote. "A man who carries a cat by its tail learns a lesson he can learn no other way."
Or maybe
"Of course fact is stranger than fiction. Fiction is obliged to make sense."
Sigh.
I'll keep it short.
Reality check?
Control is most desired when it is least likely.
You can't change anyone or anything but your own self and your own reactions/actions from what I can figure, and that's all I got.
Gentlest hugs,
leo
If I do not understand it, it is what it is.
If I do understand it, it is what it is.
To have someone reach out to you and yet for you to know that very act could backfire. Rock and a very hard place. You have my sympathies on this one.
I bake. Yeah. I bake cookies, pies, cakes, etc. like crazy when I feel out of control, b/c the cooking is what I CAN do.... I used to also houseclean like a fiend but that's past (pain issues---me and scrubbing baseboards? No.)
Control what you can, and be ready with the tissues and comforting shoulder when the rest hits the fan is all I can think of.... I am seeing two deear friends divorce (not each other) and I'm godmamma to their kids but... I can do zip... can't stop their spouses from being nasty, can't stop their pain, can't do anything but.... bake cookies, and be ready with kleenex. It's hard to not *make* a way to help.... but I've been on the wrong end of people "making" ways to help so....
I bake a lot of cookies and meditate a lot and say some prayers nad just hope for the best. Lame, but even my inner control freak gets tired sometimes....
More gentle hugs,
Leo
The Eff bomber is keeping close guard over all the family kitchens and real estate... Each wing is guarding its share of the territory. My studio has no oven or earth rights.
Off for another tour of the watershed... Walnut Creek. It has been raining in Central Texas. As usual, the majority of the rain is falling to the east of us, but we have had enough rain to make the watersheds more interesting. The birds are telegraphing news of all the best bug spots. They get excited when rain brings the insects an worms to the surface!
It is hard to sit back and not let your lack of control over these things get to you. But the reality check is that all those people you mentioned are ADULTS. They are responsible for their own lives. You can only control how you interact with them. My one friend jokes that you can control people but there are a few felonies involved in it. I have a similar situation with my husband. Only thing I can do is set boundaries to keep me healthy and let others decide their own fate.
Dios, concdame la serenidad para aceptar las cosas que no puedo cambiar
Valor para cambiar aquellas que puedo
y sabidura para reconocer la diferencia.
Thank you for the reminder, ryver. Simple truth eloquently spoken.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
"Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;"
This part in particular. I am still working on what follows but that line...^...is the part that includes acceptance, with out intervention at times, when I have no control.
We see. Struggling a bit with focus these days...
I want to jump, but as it was pointed out again by a family member..I can swim, now the water temp is warm enough I can't even count on hypothermia to help. Also full moon and frost warning coming up on the same date I should be planting for harvest....stuck in the muck of it all.
Stuck in the muck of it all
Stuck under a muddy pall
Trying to stand tall
When I just want crawl
Away from the muck of it all.
Sigh.
Poor, poor, pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Lord these boys won't let me be
Wo-o-o-o-woe is me. ~Almost Warren Zevon
http://www.rootsimple.com/2012/05/our-new-earth-oven-and-how-we-built-it/
Dunno if you have time/energy/unachiness, or any spare bricks/rocks/ lying unused.
Don't you kinda, like...generally do well to have a BS in business to run a business, and not just be full of BS?