Thursday, November 24, 2022

 Thursday, November 24, 2022

    What was in that Thai food? I slept straight through the night until 5. Holy cow! I started my in-bed exercises but fell asleep quickly. I finally forced myself out of bed at seven am. I let Elsa out the bathroom door so she could do whatever business she had to. I prepared her food. Dr. Marty says to add warm water to the food to produce gravy. I added water to warm in the electric teakettle. It is usually quite hot. I had to wait until it was cool enough to feed Elsa. I got dressed in the meantime.

  Elsa and I ran into Phil this morning. We turned around and walked with him. He was having Thanksgiving alone. His wife, Carol, would return to Hawaii tomorrow. We talked about the anticipated ‘gale winds.”  He said, as we all do, there probably would be nothing. That is the pattern here. The weather bureau warned not to plan outdoor Thanksgiving feasts and to batten everything down that could blow away.

 I had another half a bagel with cream cheese and lox again this morning, as I had every morning since my guests arrived. Then I had some pineapple and papaya. Lovely. However, I was still hungry. I am usually full when I eat less. My hunger doesn’t stop until I have a Hersey’s milk chocolate nugget with whole almonds. I am indeed addicted.

 I wasn’t feeling well. I was exhausted by 8:30 am. I lay down to nap but had no success. Something was up. Was I coming down with something? I sat down to meditate. I realized I was in deep grief. I am alienated from my own family. I’ve tried reconciliation, but the terms offered are not workable. It’s a choice of two types of pain. The pain of total loss is easier for me. But this was a bad day.  

   I called my friend Judy and asked her if she could listen and not give suggestions. I told her how sad I was about the situation. Interpersonal relationships are essential to me, but not on any terms. I’ve done a lot through my teaching to help people. I have changed people’s lives dramatically. But those don’t feel like the most satisfying accomplishments. My biggies are my relationship with Mike, my life partner of forty-five years, and my relationship with my mom.

  My relationship with my mother was a disaster when I was a child. I held on to the belief that it was possible to work something out, something that would feel good for both of us. In my thirties, I told my mom I needed time off after I met Mike and was in a committed relationship with him. I had been scared of her all my life, tried everything to deal with it, and finally needed separation. I wrote her that I had a dream in my heart that she would live with me in her old age, surrounded by children. I envisioned her sitting in a chair on a hillside with children running around her. She was smiling. Given what our relationship was about at the time, I didn’t hold out much hope.

  I wrote that letter in August, and in November, she called me. “I’m an old woman. I forgive you. You can come to Thanksgiving.” There is no recognition of me as a separate person with agency. I told her, “Mom. I’m not ready yet.”  

   The following year, a cousin called to invite me to her house for Thanksgiving. My mom would be coming. I said yes. It was neutral territory. I thought this might be all it would ever be: a polite, distant relationship. It was sad.  

 My mom and I greeted each other cordially. I had an internal resolution. She could only say three nasty comments to me. If she said more, I would say I had to leave- without explanation. There would be no point. She didn’t see my point of view, and I didn’t want to be subjected to endless criticism. There would have been a pointless argument if I had told her what I thought. 

   That fateful Thanksgiving dinner was in 1974. In February of 1983, my mom moved in with Mike and me. It was never all l would have wanted it to be, but it was enough. I got great satisfaction from having her in my life. I got to be the good daughter I always wanted to be.

 I can hear a therapist criticizing my choice. Maybe, maybe not. This is what I felt called to do; it gave me satisfaction and a true sense of fulfillment. Was it all a neurotic attachment? Who cares? What difference did that make? I loved it. I was happy. I am still happy about my life choice.

  Shortly before Mike died, I asked him if he regretted having my mom live with us. He said, “No, it made our hearts bigger.” For both of us, that was what life was about. 

    A side note. When Mike and I first met, we never talked about having children. We talked about taking care of our mothers in their old age. I was lucky. My relationship with my mom changed enough to make it a satisfying choice. While Mike’s mother toned down in her old age, she and Mike never reached a point where a close relationship was possible. She resented him from the moment he was born. How do I know? She told me her attitude toward him when she saw her baby was a boy.

 Both my mom and Mike are gone now. I think of them; I miss them, but I don’t feel deep pain over their loss. Those were good, satisfying relationships with deep love. I was one lucky lady on both counts.

  The promised wind finally arrived. It was nothing close to what the weather forecaster warned. We were told to expect gale winds. Outdoor Thanksgiving celebrations were canceled in preference for indoor events. We were told to batten down all loose objects. It was initially supposed to arrive the night of the twenty-third, bringing in a cold front. It was calm until mid-day today. There were a few gusts that would have blown my hat off, but nothing more than that. No rain, unfortunately. We desperately need it.

  The Zims, my guests, went south today to visit the Refuge Center and some other spots along the way. They got home around four. We all napped. John cooked dinner. He made the precooked stuffed turkey breast I bought from B, which he got from Costco, broccoli, and local sweet potatoes Carol bought in Waimea the other day. He forgot to cook the salmon I had defrosted to ensure we had enough food. We had more than enough without it. The turkey breast was delicious. It was a relaxed meal without too much prep. Carol and I played a few rounds of double solitaire while John prepared dinner. It was fun. I won a few rounds. That was surprising since I hadn’t played solitaire with a deck of cards in years, and my eyes had been bothering me all day. Something was off. My weak eye was wandering too much, or the glasses were askew.

   I had more apple pie, and they had pumpkin pie. B had been up to claim his slice of apple pie.