Miss Mom
I've been thinking of Mom a lot lately. The Donald lost his job on October 19th, unexpected and without saying, not the best timing, but then again when is it good to become unemployed?? Maybe after saying, "6 numbers! I have all 6 numbers!!"
There are several ways of dealing with this and my multiple personalities have been having a hay day ever since. I sulk, I cry, I scowl and then I appear insanely hopeful. I blurt out things like, "What if we lived IN a food truck?" or "Everything happens for a reason." (then I vomit in my mouth) or "I heard you can get the grocery store to pay YOU if you extreme coupon." We'll be fine, we've been through worse and we have many reasons to be grateful, I can't think of a fucking one right now, but I'm certain one exists.
My biggest fear? We'll all starve to death. Take that back, I fear I'll run out of wine, screw the rest of them. I normally plan out meals to be frugal but boy did I bust a move on the coupon scene this weekend. I was taken aback when Lauren asked, "Why are we so poor?" I explained, "We're not poor we just have lots of bills. I mean we live paycheck to paycheck. I mean we have savings, we just don't want to touch it. I mean stuff these newspapers in your boots, they'll keep your feet warm. Pass the Boons Farm and shut your pie hole!"
Normally when tragedy struck Mom was there to absorb the impact and worry. She was a professional worrier, it no doubt was the catalyst for her cancer. Mom would worry over nothing and something, well stand back. "What if you lose the house? What if he NEVER finds a job? You can't eat the dogs, you just can't! How will you ever pay for college? Your registration expires next month fyi." She's not here, she's not a phone call away, she's gone. I know she's watching over us and I cringe at that thought. "Chele, you keep your nose to the grindstone, you work, you work." I suppose hearing her in my head with the various other characters helps, I'm sure Freud would disagree, but he's probably preoccupied trying to explain Oedipus to my mother.
Sadly last night The Donald, in an effort to be helpful, tried to get the crock pot down from an upper cabinet and sent it to it's demise on the kitchen floor shattering in a zillion pieces. Mom gave us that 20 years ago, I can take a lot but little pieces of me went out in the trash with that crock pot. Sad and worried and yes pissed, I obediently grind grind grind on that grindstone. I'm trying Mom, I really am. Miss you, love Chele
There are several ways of dealing with this and my multiple personalities have been having a hay day ever since. I sulk, I cry, I scowl and then I appear insanely hopeful. I blurt out things like, "What if we lived IN a food truck?" or "Everything happens for a reason." (then I vomit in my mouth) or "I heard you can get the grocery store to pay YOU if you extreme coupon." We'll be fine, we've been through worse and we have many reasons to be grateful, I can't think of a fucking one right now, but I'm certain one exists.
My biggest fear? We'll all starve to death. Take that back, I fear I'll run out of wine, screw the rest of them. I normally plan out meals to be frugal but boy did I bust a move on the coupon scene this weekend. I was taken aback when Lauren asked, "Why are we so poor?" I explained, "We're not poor we just have lots of bills. I mean we live paycheck to paycheck. I mean we have savings, we just don't want to touch it. I mean stuff these newspapers in your boots, they'll keep your feet warm. Pass the Boons Farm and shut your pie hole!"
Normally when tragedy struck Mom was there to absorb the impact and worry. She was a professional worrier, it no doubt was the catalyst for her cancer. Mom would worry over nothing and something, well stand back. "What if you lose the house? What if he NEVER finds a job? You can't eat the dogs, you just can't! How will you ever pay for college? Your registration expires next month fyi." She's not here, she's not a phone call away, she's gone. I know she's watching over us and I cringe at that thought. "Chele, you keep your nose to the grindstone, you work, you work." I suppose hearing her in my head with the various other characters helps, I'm sure Freud would disagree, but he's probably preoccupied trying to explain Oedipus to my mother.
Sadly last night The Donald, in an effort to be helpful, tried to get the crock pot down from an upper cabinet and sent it to it's demise on the kitchen floor shattering in a zillion pieces. Mom gave us that 20 years ago, I can take a lot but little pieces of me went out in the trash with that crock pot. Sad and worried and yes pissed, I obediently grind grind grind on that grindstone. I'm trying Mom, I really am. Miss you, love Chele
((Hugs)), Chele. Big (((Hugs))). We lost our Mom nearly 20 years ago. I still miss her. I was the lucky one though. When she started having panic attacks because she was living alone, my husband said "Sure!" when I asked him if she could come live with us. Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE said we were crazy but it was 9 good years for us all. She was my Mom, my teacher, my babysitter, my PTO helper, my confidant and my best friend. I was in a fog for months after she died. One thing she left me - faith. That faith and my husband are what got me through. Now they are together, my Mom and my husband. I feel them watching over me, guiding me, protecting me, loving me - together. I talk to them and wait for that next piece of "inspiration" from them. Recently they told me that I need to stop being so hard on myself. I need to be my own best friend. So I talk to myself the way I would talk to someone else suffering with the issues that challenge me. It helps. It really does. So...
ReplyDeleteTalk to your Mom, she hears you. Then wait for "inspiration" and if you need a real live ear or voice...I am a good listener. ((Hugs))