First I should say there is hope. There is always hope. Then I should say that I am in fact a recovering (forever) codependent. I am actually searching for blogs, ones that actually make sense to me, that discuss codependency, without whining or over the top sappy music. Oh yes I am a cynic as well.
Saturday morning: my adorable grandchildren are awake and looking for breakfast (we are currently working on just one breakfast rather than an on going series of them). The three year old is not eating because the toast is too dark, the four year old wants more bananas in her yogurt and maybe eggs instead.
Enter my mother who has Alzheimer's, lives with us and is been prone to some really crabby attacks (verbal) on my husband and on my son Matthew (of course I am not sure about me as she does not generally direct them at her target but to anyone else who will listen until her second glass of wine when everyone is fair game). We will not even discuss this mirror of life, but suffice it to say this is not new behavior just a bit more blatant with the disease she has.
Now my son needs a ride to his morning meeting at St Raphael's in Kittery, he is staying with us back from four years of living in the Windy City, Chicago, which as he says "seriously kicked his butt" and left him fighting his demons and for a new direction in his life. While I am enormously proud of his efforts and his admissions at 23 of a life out of control, it is a very very big weight on my heart to see him suffer.
Shawn, the 28 year old disabled man with whom we live, don't feel too badly we do get paid for this, is down stairs pacing because he is going to visit a friend and waiting for his ride...which at 7 am is four hours away. He is gaining mania with each minute, talking louder, asking repeated questions and planning on how to spend his money when he cashes his check on the way...oh yeah I drive him and take him to the bank and help him make his list of how he will spend his money (which he will totally ignore).
One of the girls begins to whine about her toast, great grandma starts to intervene with yet breakfast number three and my suggestion that we simply let it go leads to her (great grandma stomping out of the room). The routine is now that she will call my sister and complain and tell me she is moving, which she never does because she feels she is the youngest grandchild's protector...there was always one who she needed to protect against all.
Did I mention that I am now feeling guilty that I have been snippy with my mother, told Shawn that he needs to be anywhere but in the middle of the kitchen while I feed the girls and get laundry done. Bob and I missed the yard sale we waited all week for. The youngest grandchild is playing big time now for great grandma to rescue with a temper tantrum because the yogurt that replaced the toast is not the right flavor and I refuse to change it? Oh and Bob is getting ready for his softball game because he is smart and plays on three leagues for sanity and has a game this Saturday morning at 11...but got to stretch and all and be on the field by 10:30 at the latest for warm up so he is on the move.
Now keep in mind that all the while I am having conversations with both of my sisters who are planning to visit Mom, (one is thankfully taking her to her house for the night) talking with my daughter on the west coast doing her internship which she hates and wants to return home early. Oh and talking with her husband on the east coast in the Marines, and I have had two conversations with members of my son's family who struggle with his life circumstance. (oh yes and he has an apartment of furniture he is trying to sell on Craig's list as he tries to figure out how to get back to Chicago to pick up his cats by the end of the month because I cannot pay another month's rent).
Now this is Saturday morning at 9 by now. Suddenly I am completely aware that there is no Debbie time, that even hear my name called from a distant room is like chalk on the board and I am on my third cup of coffee to keep up but it is making me even more insane. I am now taking stock...looking...wanting to cry and realizing that I have to find me, care for me, and figure out how to balance me again. After finding my way to the kiddy pool in the back yard I sit with the girls and enjoy a few hours of sunshine. It is not until Sunday when I wake up, read my codependency forever book (again! and only part of it) decide to go to church, alone or with makes no difference that the world begins to turn a bit. For a few hours in that church I am free, I am back with my faith and grace seeps into my heart. It is not easy for us codependents when we take off the superman jersey but we got to do it! I am off to work mode now and have plans for completing some big things on my table. Today feels okay.
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