YOUR WORST CRITIC IS THE MOST INVISIBLE, IT IS YOU, YOURSELF
YOUR WORST CRITIC IS THE MOST INVISIBLE, IT IS YOU, YOURSELF
Sisters Aren’t Perfect Either
I don’t know why I have to be a perfectionist. There is no such thing as one, but I have always…
http://dailypost.wordpress.com, DP, Daily Prompt
Who is the one person you hope isn’t reading your blog? Why?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us OUTSIDE.
I can look at this from standing inside the circle on the perfectly centered dot. As I turn around slowly I can see people looking inside. They have their hands cupped around their eyes. Their noses are squished into the glass bubble. I can see stretched nostrils and I think that one guy way over there has a stringy booger hanging out his nose. The man standing next to him needs to trim those nose hairs.
I hold the key. Each week I go to each person and get a keen look at his purpose of reading my precious blog. As all writers of blogs know, this is our domain, our pit, our space. Just not everyone is let in to see our private thoughts.
I mean, for heaven’s sakes, what if I was pissed off at my neighbor and I decided to knock her off her high horse by writing terrible, nasty, and rude things about her? What if she never forgave me? What about the next time I needed that cup of sugar? Would she slam her door in my face?
I see Mrs. Piggly Wiggly standing right dead smack in front of me too. She is the one with the longest and most pointed nose I ever did see. But hey, when I am short on staples in my cupboard, she always comes through.
Oh wait, over there is the President of the Bank I belong too. No, you won’t see me on the top list of Board Members. Well shucks, if the truth were known I am two months behind on that darn mortgage payment. He don’t know it but I have caller ID and I can tell when that snooty bank is trying to get in on my party line. All they ever want to do is just plain old harass me. Wonder what he is doing here? Probably trying to see if I am really speaking the truth. I have given so many reasons why I am late, I bet he just wants to see if my blog says I am really out partying it up every night of the week.
Turning more on my center point, I see my kids. Now most of the time I don’t care if they read my blog or not. I can admit it sort of hurts when only one out of three read what I write. But there is advantages to them not reading my words. Some of the time I am speaking about them. I am not kidding. I love my kids more than life itself, but gosh dang, kids can really get on an old woman’s nerves at times. Sorry kids, just consider it the fact I am going through the hot-flash change of life and tomorrow I promise I won’t feel this way.
As I complete my turn in my little center of the bubble I see one last group of people. I have never met them, but by looking at their warm smiles and seeing the truth in their eyes, I can recognize this group as my friends from Blogging World. Hi there, hey there, how are you all doing? I can’t believe it? You are all here, waiting to see my next post. Ready to give me a kick in the seat when I need it. Some of you boost my morale. Others of you give me a shoulder to lean on. Hey you, I recognize those ornery dogs. I know who you are. You there, I know you without a doubt. You are wearing a Captain’s hat. I know that you have sailed the seas many times. That lady there has humor written on the front of her shirt. I know you. I read you blog post the last thing before going to bed. Hey Jo, I would know you anywhere. You and I, we have shared some laughs, tears and sorrows together haven’t we. Each of you have something unique that you share with me. I just want you to each know you are always welcome into my bubble anytime.
So in conclusion of this post I welcome everyone who has a warm heart, a soul that is true, family and friends. Welcome all to my part of the world.
Well, I guess there is only one that I would not want in my group. One who would not be welcomed and chased out with all of my might. This would be that toad. That ugly, big wart toad.
I don’t know why I have to be a perfectionist. There is no such thing as one, but I have always tried ever since I can think back to around eleven years of age. I think it stemmed in the beginning from always trying to please my parents.
If I cleaned house good enough they would acknowledge me. If I got good grades they would say something. If and if and if. It doesn’t work. It didn’t work in my younger ages, it didn’t work in my marriage and it doesn’t work with Al.
But yet I keep trying. I still have my house as clean as possible. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t do outside windows. I only clean walls and closets in the Spring and Fall, so I am not terribly bad, just bad enough.
It took me all morning to get over the incident with Al and the shower. I even had to lay down and take a nap because the whole incident wiped me out of energy. Finally I got it together as good as I do, and I read all the comments and sucked in my sponge brain what they said.
I guess with Al the real issue is losing him. Not losing him to death, but losing him to the system. Those words from the hospital saying they were going to have to report his falls, even though they knew why he was falling still haunt me.
What if I make a mistake.What if I speak too loudly. What if I accidentally hurt him or let him fall or anything? Abuse is a big deal into day’s world. Everyone has to prove they are innocent. I don’t want to ever have to go through that because deep down inside I know I am the best sister ever to Al. I love him with all my heart.
I need to learn that I am alright. I am doing a good job with him. I need to realize I can never make him truly happy and I can’t do everything he wishes. He is a sick man living or trying to live as if he is not ill.
I worried about what the bath aide thought as she observed the scene, but then I thought to myself, nothing happened. She just made me feel as if I didn’t do things right. Her telling me I should have sat him back down and explained was her thoughts. I didn’t do anything wrong, I just didn’t think of her idea.
After I woke up I went to the store and bought one more safety guard for the bathroom and a bath mat. There is nothing else I can do as far as the bathroom goes. I have done all that I can think of. There are now three bars in that little room, a bath mat, new lighting so we can all see better, a good bath aide and a loving sister. Anything else that is needed is up to God and Al.
I feel like such a failure, I know I shouldn’t. Failure is a terrible downgrading word for a human being. I am actually sitting here with tears kicking myself emotionally hoping I can learn quicker, be more gentle, and more understanding.
I try so hard to be the perfect sister and yet I fail more and more as he gets worse. This morning I greeted him with a smile and got one back. I fixed him eggs and french toast for breakfast.
He told me how the cat jumped up on his bed last night and wanted to be petted. Conversation was pretty nice. Then it happened, the shower girl came for his bathing.
Al had finished breakfast a few minutes before she arrived, so I helped him brush his teeth and shaved him. I was helping him to stand and grab the shower bar in order to sit on the shower chair.
It is unfortunate that either bathroom in our house is not wheelchair accessible. They are both tight fits. I have a grab bar in the shower and one on the wall for him to hang on to. He did pretty good until he got to the end of the bar and had to hang on to me for the three more steps.
Suddenly he started talking about how he was going to fall. I was telling him, “It’s alright, I am right here with you, holding you.” He continued on with his fear and I knew in an instant that he was going to give up his concentration on standing and walking those few more steps by arguing.
The crying started and then I was getting the look from him which I have seen many years. I tried to calm him down as the shower girl was standing behind us watching the scene play out. Nothing I said helped, he just kept saying he could have fallen.
Since he was sitting and safe now I turned the show over to the bath aide. As I turned to walk out of the bathroom I heard those old familiar words asking me, “What did you say to me?”
This is a signal I remember instantly. Anger, frustration and whatever else he could get out of his mouth. In past times he would try to hurt me. I am not afraid of that part now as he is too slow and weak.
I automatically went and got him one of his medications that I can use for him at these times so that he won’t explode and will calm down instead of carrying it on for hours. The shower girl was beginning her job and I asked her to stop just a moment so I could give him his pill.
After he swallowed it in applesauce he asked, “What did you give me?” I told him something to help him calm down. He said some choice words and I left the bathroom and came out in the living room and smoked a cigarette, frustrated.
After the shower was over and she was dressing him I walked to the door and calmly explained the urgency in not speaking while he is walking. I told him he could tell me anything once he was safely seated.
Dressed and ready for the bus I walked the shower lady outside. She told me, “He was afraid he was going to fall on the towel you keep on the floor for his bath. Maybe you need more bar grips placed in there. Maybe you should have just sat him back in his wheelchair and explained to him why he needs to concentrate on walking and then talk later.”
I felt like an ass, a total ass. I was embarrassed and humiliated. I had shown no patience with Al. I jumped on the issue of arguing because of memories gone by. I am always aware of what Al can do, although no one that knows him now is.
I freak out. I get scared in a way of what used to be. Why can’t I be better? Why didn’t I see that it was the towel he was afraid of and not me? I was thinking he just didn’t trust me enough to get to the chair. It took the shower girl to point out the real problem, the towel.
I know I am beating myself up. I know the fear that rises inside of me from past experiences with him. I can remember the hospital saying,”Although we know he is falling from his illness if you bring him in one more time for a fall we will have to call Adult Protective Services, APS. It is the law.”
I know that I am a good sister. I know that I would never hurt him or hit him or nothing. In fact it would be the other way around, he would hurt me. But knowing I didn’t catch what he was really saying because I was concentrating so hard on him not falling, and the shower girl observed it all, I am a wreck right now.
Lord, I need help in the mornings. Is this a cop-out? Am I saying I can’t really deal with him? Did I make an error in bringing him home? I swear I love him and I know it breaks my heart when he cries, but I caused this, and the way I coped with it was to think, I need to calm him down so he doesn’t let this ruin his day.
So I gave him a relaxing pill instead of actually listening and hearing. I did apologize to him before he left on the misunderstanding of the towel. I also expressed once again that when he has to walk a few steps we need to be very quiet and get to the seat so he doesn’t fall.
I am screwing it up and I need to stop and listen. He is the one who is sick, not me.
Promise With A Kiss
Tears and hearts
They come in pairs
They can bring laughter
Or grave despair