by cklaurence » Tue Oct 18, 2011 2:10 pm
I can't take myself too seriously. My kids would laugh me out of the house, and I'm not kidding about it. The young are so brash about life. I am constantly reminded of how immortal we think we are when we're young. My kids are especially tough on me since I took ill. I'm pretty sure it has to do with anger that there's a 'crack' in my armor. Do you know what I mean? When my mom took ill--and it took me until she passed away to recognize what it was, I would lose my temper easily with her toward the end. Try as I might to keep my patience, I would get upset and I hated myself for it! I spent almost 24 hours a day with her for her last 3 years. Left my dream job with UM to be with her when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and only expected to live a couple of months. Thankfully, with great care (and never letting her know just how bad her prognosis was), she went into remission for nearly two years, but fought having chemo again when her blood work started to show signs of a return, insisting on waiting until it could be seen on scans, which was against doctor's judgment. By then they needed a much stronger chemo, which mom couldn't take, and the inevitable happened. When my head cleared after she was gone, I realized that I was angry for a couple of reasons. I had abandonment issues for the better part of my life. When I was growing up, my mother was very busy with her career. She was in the opera, and during the season, she was away nights in rehearsal, and as performances got closer, on weekends as well. She also had a day job as a (what would be called now) paralegal and court reporter. In addition, she traveled with the opera and had a night club act (doing pop music) and traveled with that as well. Needless to say, I had a bad case of fear of mom never coming home. Somehow I guess I never really outgrew that fear, and even though I was in my mid forties when mom grew ill, when her behavior changed in that last few months and she went from strong and in-charge to weak and weaker to dependent, that fear kicked in stronger than ever, in fear of the ultimate abandonment--which, naturally did happen. That period of my life is so dark and blacked out, that I may have had the help of a therapist in figuring it out, but I can't for the life of me remember. During that 3 year period, my son Josh lost his best friend (12 yeas old) to Leukemia; I lost my closest cousin (more like a sister) to an extremely violent car accident, and then my mom. It was a very traumatic time, which has not been rivaled until this past summer...
Wow, how'd I get onto that! Sorry. How 'bout them Dolphins, lol!!!
It's no easy life being a Dolfan...