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This morning finds my thoughts fissuring and looping erratically through fear and anger. Well. . . I believe anger is just inflated fear, but that is just semantics right now. Fear is a mind-killer. Arguing semantics while I am angry gets ugly in a hurry.
The situation with my youngest son's family appears to be worsening. Appears. I am mostly working to stay out of it. It is stuff the new parents have to work out on their own, but its waves are lapping my doorstep on the visits with my two-year-old grandson and the impending birth of my granddaughter. She is due next month. So far, I have only been asked to care for the grandson. My privilege, but anxiety over what they might be asking next is through the roof.
The yaddahs between the DIL and I sit exactly where they sat on June 15th after the MIL/DIL Blowout. The accumulated detritus of neglect is the only change. The grimy dust thickens. . . I'll bet you already guessed where much of my anger is targeted this morning. Insert first line of the Serenity Prayer here. Please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Sweet serenity can be so-o-o-o-o hard to achieve in the flows of anger. My first run tools are not doing the job. Time to bring in the next wave?
I pulled my Finger-Pointing Meditation out of my therapy tool box. It is based on the cliche that when I point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointed back at me.
In this exercise, I visualize the DIL in a chair in front of me. I point my hoary blame finger at her and "let her have it." Balls out venting. . . Blame Game Master of the Universe coming at you, Darling DIL. . . Gnarl, gnarl. . . Gnash, gnash. . . It helps me to focus the issues. I then lift my hand, ever so slightly, and take an inventory at the three fingers pointed back at me. That is where I find the actual solutions.
Works in progress. . .
Thanks for the ramble space. This round of anger is still pretty fresh. I believe containment and processing still possible.
Sigh. . . Will we ever find a cure?
Thanks for the sort space.
The situation with my youngest son's family appears to be worsening. Appears. I am mostly working to stay out of it. It is stuff the new parents have to work out on their own, but its waves are lapping my doorstep on the visits with my two-year-old grandson and the impending birth of my granddaughter. She is due next month. So far, I have only been asked to care for the grandson. My privilege, but anxiety over what they might be asking next is through the roof.
The yaddahs between the DIL and I sit exactly where they sat on June 15th after the MIL/DIL Blowout. The accumulated detritus of neglect is the only change. The grimy dust thickens. . . I'll bet you already guessed where much of my anger is targeted this morning. Insert first line of the Serenity Prayer here. Please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Sweet serenity can be so-o-o-o-o hard to achieve in the flows of anger. My first run tools are not doing the job. Time to bring in the next wave?
I pulled my Finger-Pointing Meditation out of my therapy tool box. It is based on the cliche that when I point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointed back at me.
In this exercise, I visualize the DIL in a chair in front of me. I point my hoary blame finger at her and "let her have it." Balls out venting. . . Blame Game Master of the Universe coming at you, Darling DIL. . . Gnarl, gnarl. . . Gnash, gnash. . . It helps me to focus the issues. I then lift my hand, ever so slightly, and take an inventory at the three fingers pointed back at me. That is where I find the actual solutions.
Works in progress. . .
Thanks for the ramble space. This round of anger is still pretty fresh. I believe containment and processing still possible.
Sigh. . . Will we ever find a cure?
Thanks for the sort space.
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Hey all, i know its been quite awhile since i posted on here. Its been a summer all right. Its been something else........... You know how they say not to open the can of worms? Well a few months ago i decided to find out what my due date would have been for my first baby, the one conceived by r***. My baby would have been due on March 4th of 2006. They would be 20 years old. I was R**** on June...
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My day...today...misplaced my debit card...didn't realize it until I got to the register after shopping to a full cart. Used a different debit card and pulled apart everything looking for missing debit card before I left parking lot. Got home, dropped keys. So now I have a missing debit card, missing keys. A full cartload to unload and put away. I got everything put away.Dumped purse for a...
Safe support as your sort and process.
I find that every time I try to point a finger at my mom, I feel as if I have six pointing back at me (how'd both hands get involved in this?!)
Blessings on you, Arfie, I hope you can find a way through to that serenity the prayer mentions.
So far, the first finger pointed back at me seems to be saying that all of this is beyond my control. The DIL is a closed door in my life and I don't get to know what goes on behind any closed door. I can guess all I want, but the actual data remains unavailable. It is not mine to sort, in any event.
Repeat first line of Serenity Prayer. Add in folk sayings about not spending so energy looking at the closed door that I miss the door which is open.
Still meditating. . . Gardener style. . . On my knees, prepping garden beds. Time to plant the cilantro and lettuce. I have had miserable results with Spring corn here in Central Texas. I wonder how winter corn would do?
I am too feline to like a closed door is part of my problem, I know that, and yet... Meow-scratch-scratch.... *sigh*
God grant us all the serenity... And the wisdom.... and the courage...