And? ? ?

The guilt pangs over not being in Texas performing my housewoofer duties may be subsiding. Maybe. When we spoke briefly yesterday morning, Hubs sounded calmer for having located and visiting YS at the hospital. I was at the volunteer job when he called, so I was not in a good place for a long talk, but he sounded like he was gaining some clues as to why I have begun to refer to the family dysfunction cycle as, "Business as Usual." Our darling cherubs have become middle-aged while you were busy being busy. This has been going on for decades now and. . . The pot needs stirring, my busy man. If the mental health issues of our middle aged sons have, indeed, rendered them as life-long dependants, we need a more realistic game plan. I cannot do this alone. He still sees the intervention of Child Protective Services as a tradgedy. I see it as the best hope of realistic help I've had in a while. I fear that my resuming my place in the dysfunction cycle will cause them to go away. The Monster-in-law can handle the child-welfare, name calling and all. Toxic Mother at your service. I still feel healther in the Toxic People Landfill. It crushes me to think of my beloved grandchildren learning the current family protocols on how to treat the Toxic Old Mother. We donae have the millions of dollars it took to maintain my mother-in-law in that position for the end stages of her Huntington's Disease. HD isnae among my personal dysfunctions, anyway. Thank God. I amnae sure Hubs and sons are all the way aware that not all women have HD. They still carry that trait of all the gender dominant families I have known of trying to fit the other gender into single statements. "Women are ____" Proof unavailable and I certainly don't want to argue with their denial again. Proof that not all women have HD is readily available, along with the proof that HD affects the system mightily. I still don't know where my mother-in-law left off and her HD began, much less where their treatment of me is directly out of that family tradition. Not seeing how Hubs and sons could, either. They can barely talk about ^it^, much less sort the p's from the q's of sub-consciously motivated actions.

It be a complex weave. Every life is a complex weave. Every family is a mosaic of complex weaves. I still feel the need to keep my Toxic Old Mother weave detached from the family weave for now. Letting go and letting God. . .

Hubs has been baiting me with action on the farm project I abandoned at the beginning of this sojourn, back in March. His actions feel like more business as usual. He is duplicating bits what I have already done, finding the same answers I have already given him and wanting me to be impressed that he has finally made time in his busy schedule to undermine my previous efforts. Still no progress on the co-owner fiasco which derailed the project back in March. I still donae feel safe approaching that snotty knot. If the husband don't get me, the in-laws will. . . From my side of the in-law hyphen, it still looks like a seriously snotty knot, fortified with silver plating inside all that pretty paper. My independant studies of Huntington's Disease make the snotty knot look downright inevitable. Why are we still training the elephant to hold holiday decorations while we silver-plate the elephant turds? I know, I know. . . Insert FIL quote here. "Well, that really isn't any of your business, is it?" Let the rent-a-daughters handle it.

Don't know if I am venting or sorting. . . Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer.

The volunteer work is on hold for the weekend. I have no plans for the time. We see what grows. For now, guit-chi time. . .