Rant warning: I'm pretty sure I'm all out of placid today.
I am lucky, and I know it. I have my sister, Glenda the Good Witch, to help me navigate the waters as we try to move my fairly sick Mom to a retirement place. So many people have to deal with the adjustments, the packing , the cleaning and property sale issues along with the financial planning and forecasting issues. I have only to do the logistics, Glenda will handle the money things. I am lucky.
I am lucky.
I am Lucky
I am LUCKY.
I. don't. feel. lucky. I feel furious and want to spew my crabbiness all over my lovely blog friends.
I would try spewing on strangers, but it's hard to make them sit still for this sort of thing.
I'm crabby because I'm sad, it's hard to shepherd anyone through such a major transition and I know I'm not alone, but after one day of looking at places I think:
I am overwhelmed. I am a bad daughter; This is not about me. I only have to drive and smile, I need to suck it up. My mom really should have planned or saved or something. Who the hell is going to pack this whole place? I do not deserve to be snapped at just because she is Tired - Scared - needs a drink - not in charge - in denial.
Do I seem overwhelmed? I meant to mention, O-Ver-Whelmed. In case I forgot.
So... my story is nothing new. Complicated relationship with Mom who has always acted like drinking and pretending will make things turn out all right. Not a dime saved because she has been living beyond her means. For twenty years. I have tried to address this problem, also for twenty years, only to be shot down and called (mild) names by my sibling and mom who would like to pretend.
Meanwhile, I save like an ant. Plan for my future. Now I am going to go through the misery of finding a way to grow old without a plan or money -even though I am the ant- on behalf of Mom who would still like to look at 2 bedroom apartments with granite counter tops and options to add nursing assistance! Much nicer than my vintage 1952 kitchen. Much.
Augh. There is not answer. I know that. Just feel my pain and pay me a compliment. Bearded Bob has already started. At 3pm today he texted me: "You are a good daughter".
Boy, I love that bearded guy.
I am lucky, and I know it. I have my sister, Glenda the Good Witch, to help me navigate the waters as we try to move my fairly sick Mom to a retirement place. So many people have to deal with the adjustments, the packing , the cleaning and property sale issues along with the financial planning and forecasting issues. I have only to do the logistics, Glenda will handle the money things. I am lucky.
I am lucky.
I am Lucky
I am LUCKY.
I. don't. feel. lucky. I feel furious and want to spew my crabbiness all over my lovely blog friends.
I would try spewing on strangers, but it's hard to make them sit still for this sort of thing.
I'm crabby because I'm sad, it's hard to shepherd anyone through such a major transition and I know I'm not alone, but after one day of looking at places I think:
I am overwhelmed. I am a bad daughter; This is not about me. I only have to drive and smile, I need to suck it up. My mom really should have planned or saved or something. Who the hell is going to pack this whole place? I do not deserve to be snapped at just because she is Tired - Scared - needs a drink - not in charge - in denial.
Do I seem overwhelmed? I meant to mention, O-Ver-Whelmed. In case I forgot.
So... my story is nothing new. Complicated relationship with Mom who has always acted like drinking and pretending will make things turn out all right. Not a dime saved because she has been living beyond her means. For twenty years. I have tried to address this problem, also for twenty years, only to be shot down and called (mild) names by my sibling and mom who would like to pretend.
Meanwhile, I save like an ant. Plan for my future. Now I am going to go through the misery of finding a way to grow old without a plan or money -even though I am the ant- on behalf of Mom who would still like to look at 2 bedroom apartments with granite counter tops and options to add nursing assistance! Much nicer than my vintage 1952 kitchen. Much.
Augh. There is not answer. I know that. Just feel my pain and pay me a compliment. Bearded Bob has already started. At 3pm today he texted me: "You are a good daughter".
Boy, I love that bearded guy.
