Wednesday, December 7, 2011

tears, accomplishments and the black dog

I got into the car, and tears came unbidden. I struggled to keep them from overflowing. I looked out the window, and tried to surreptitiously wipe them away, desperately hoping that she, or anyone else for that matter, would not notice.


A few days before, Nathan had asked me what was my greatest accomplishment. Without even thinking about it, my answer was, "You guys, my children."

"Oh." was his response.

Then I added "And putting John in jail. But having you three - that's my greatest accomplishment."

The question came out of nowhere. We were discussing accomplishments or achievements, he just randomly - or so it appeared - asked. When I questioned him where it had come from, his answer, "was no where, I was just wondering." OK - thanks for clearing that one up Nat.

But of course it has rattled around in my head now for days.

A few days before that conversation, I had a conversation with my sister. I was practising "grace" - trying to extend grace to her, in spite of her behaviours, in spite of her denial that she suffers from something far greater then depression. So I called her when I had received a text from her. The conversation with her was pretty much the way most of the conversations with her are - either manic, or black. This one was manic. She was racing. I could have put the phone down, walked away, came back 5 minutes later, and she would have been none the wiser.

During the conversation she mentioned the "blow out" that her and our mother had had recently. She alluded to the fact that our mother had "vomited" stuff at her when she had arrived at her place to stay. Vomited stuff about me. I should have known better. I shouldn't have pushed to know. But I did. I've taken advantage of her, I do things to suit myself, if I'm not careful Aston will be a bigger brat then Beth (my sister's daughter) ever was... I should have known better then to expect that my mother could do anything for me unconditionally.

But of course that too has rattled around in my head now for days.


Laura came home for a visit this weekend just gone. She arrived Friday night, and I took her back to her other home last night. In the 96 hours she was on the Sunshine coast, 52 of them she spent with us, 21 of them awake.... what does it matter? I know. I'm being pathetic. 21 hours is better then none at all... I guess I'm feeling greedy. I wanted more... more time. more of .... what?

Maybe what I really wanted was to rewind time.

Nothing like wishing for the impossible is there? Kind of like putting someone in a round room and telling them to sit in the corner....


The further down the road I travelled the heavier and tighter my chest felt. The black dog dug in deep, and settled firmly on my heart. The harder it began to hide the tears. Snide remarks were exchanged between us. I didn't want it to end this way. Why could I just not keep my mouth shut?

Nathan had made an interesting observation. That she was different towards me, then she is towards her father. That she speaks to him, their father, and their father's girlfriend,  kindly, conversationally when they are at their father's. Here she speaks to him rudely. Here she speaks to me rudely. There is no respect.

How did we get here? Where did it all go so horribly wrong?

More to the point,can it be fixed?

So much for my greatest accomplishment........

Even the cat senses something amiss....

1 comment:

  1. I'm not sure how old Laura is and I don't know the whole story, I may be misinterpreting the whole situation... but being rude is often a call for attention. It can mean that she needs you and she wants more of you, but is scared that she won't get what she wants and rudeness is her protection. What I'm really trying to say her is - it doesn't sound like it's beyond the point of no return!


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