Turncoats II
Where, exactly, have Mister Surname's well-rehearsed humble farm boy stories been taking me during the 36 years that I have been listening to them with far more respect than interest? I have been professionally guided through at least some of the most traumatic of them. There is no way to know what all is still buried.
During the Sweet Grass episode (c.2011), I came to realize that I fight pleasant memories as ferociously as I fight the traumatic memories. It all leads to trauma. . .
I did not marry Mister Surname. I married his son. Mister Surname's son remains the love of my life. This week, he is the Grapmy of my Grammy. Together we cherish the opportunities to for active bonds with our grandchildren. I wants him in my life, warts and all. The 5-Star Mister Surname? Well. . . That is mostly not my business. That is a direct quote Mister Surname has delivered almost as many times as he has delivered his humble farm boy stories. I am okay with letting Mister Surname's life be none of my business. I am working to be let the love of my life process his father as the unrehearsed story unfolds. With his one remaining brother's advance into Huntington's Disease, there are no other family members to take charge of Mister Surname's geriatric care.Yesterday carried the "good news" that Mister Surname is improving. Mister Surname's treasury is getting thin enough to look questionable on how much longer he will be able to support his Privately Owned Nursing Home, even with help from the Public Assistance coffers. Hubs is stuck with it, whether he wants it, or not. Not. He has lived in denial of the inevitability for quite allot of years.
Leaving hubs to sort his branch of the Family Tree. . .
It is hard to be supportive while I am fighting PTSD symptoms. It feels allot like being a priest on one side and a warrior on the other. Sorting my own. . .
To the best of my knowledge, "Turncoat" is a purely academic word for me. I learned it in public school history books. I cannot recall ever using the word in conversation, though it would not be surprising to find it in various classroom or party debates. Personally? If the word is part of my own strictly personals, I have buried it quite deeply.
Yet here it is. . . Bubbling to the top of my PTSD cauldron with the persistence of a memory clamouring for attention. I am plying therapy tools, this journal entry being one, to *simply* let the whatevers bubble to the top.
Just breathe. . .
Replies
Agreement on the difficulty of supporting another, while having/suffering/surviving PTSD. And much sympathy to you and your hubs on the geriatric parent care front. I am trying to figure out how to face that myself, and while it is 90 percent mine (Hubby doing the driving of the car)... It of itself triggers a lot.
Be and breathe. Be and breathe.
Note to self:
A movie I didn't much like is bubbling to the top with the word, "Turncoat."
Rewatch, "Promised Land," if you can.
Best of luck in your sorting process. I offer you my gentle support.
I rewatched Promised Land. Didn't much like it this time, either, however much I like Francis McDurmand. but as I watched I grew fairly certain that the "turncoat" echo is just from the 60's Small Town America response to corporate raiders. No shortage of that in my personal herstory. Is it worth researching how common the term, "Turncoat" was in rural U.S. during the 60's? I don't recall ever hearing it from my birth family.
I'll probably just leave that one be. The important thing is to lose my fear of remembering my childhood.