Saturday, May 11, 2024

Saturday, May 11, 2024  

Boy, I had a terrible night’s sleep. I worried about regrets, eczema, and the possible consequences of the scam.  

    It was a gorgeous ocean view through an unscreened regular-sized double-hung wood window in the back of a small shop in the Kona Inn Shopping Village that seduced me into talking to the saleswoman.  This mall must be the original shopping strip in Kona. Perhaps it once had shops that served the residents. Now, it is a tourist trap.  I got lured into a shop selling skin care.

   There was that incredible view, and then there was this long white tube-like object. What was it for? Two of my weaknesses were framed views and unknowns to be investigated. Paulette had walked away and reappeared as I talked to the saleslady. We both sat down for demonstrations.  

 The saleswoman applied something to the bags under one of each of our eyes. Wow!  Then she used an exfoliant on my right inner forearm.  Wow again!! We both dropped $300 for 5 products supposedly costing several thousand dollars.  We got this great deal because of the wonderful people we were. Right!  Both of us knew it was hustle, but it felt good.   I added up the ‘full’ cost of the Truffoire products we got: $3,056 worth for $300. Sounds good, no?  I found a critic of the company. The products are considered good, but the prices . . . .!! Oy vey!

   We were promised a free facial as a bonus. We continued our walk through the ‘village.’  The colleague of the woman who sold us the $300 worth of products greeted us as we passed the door to the second shop. He told us he was looking forward to our facial appointments next Monday. Paulette was getting just a facial. I was getting a full body red light treatment along with the facial.  

    Paulette and I were in the same room when we went for our facials. I started in this space-age container with a sauna/red light treatment, which I hoped would help me heal from the surgeries.

   Giovani gave us facials and a song-and-dance about the products. He told me I had eczema.  He said it was inherited. That made sense. My uncle had psoriasis. In my twenties, I developed a type of acne that was supposed to be a variant of psoriasis. In other words, psoriasis and my current skin condition had the same cause. Because I had this acne variant, I wouldn’t get the psoriasis. Sounded like a good deal to me. Now, I had an explanation for my peeling skin. Every time I shower, I scrap my arms and legs with industrial plastic steel wool to make the skin smooth. I never had this problem before.  I was glad to get an explanation for all that dead skin.  I thought it might be connected to old age.

   That diagnosis won me over.  The product was good, and this expert gave me new information about my skin. I bought the two-year supply of five products. He threw a blue light/red light thingies to treat skin, one for Paulette and one for me; the Space Touch Jupiter gadget is listed online for a mere $7,200.  It didn’t look like it was worth that much. Who gives away an object costing that much for free?  I looked it up when I got home; another brand sold in the two hundred dollar range. That sounded more like it.  I’m not going to tell you how much I paid. It was less than any of the prices I’ve quoted so far.  I’ve had to forgive myself for indulging. 

   On my way home, I stopped at the vet to exchange Daisy’s deworming pills for Elsa’s ear medication. I didn’t have to wait too long. The receptionist was new and very young. I didn’t give her too much grief for putting me out of my way.

    When I got home from the vet, I was still in that lousy state of mind from the night before. Whatever triggered that bad mood,  two CBD pills and a meditation session fixed the problem.  I had one of those amazing sleeps that happen when you’re meditating. I woke up two hours later in a much-improved mood.        

    I’ve fallen into a podcast rabbit hole. The more I watch, the more I find. Some of them are interesting, and some resonate with me emotionally.  I came across one with Dr. Lindsay Gibson talking about the impact of the immature parent. This resonated with me six ways from Sunday in my relationship with my parents and myself. I much prefer talking about my mother’s arrested development than categorizing her as a narcissist or a sociopathic or, as some of my therapists wanted to categorize her, as just plain evil.  Judging her that way made me rise up to defend her. The sessions were occupied with doing that, and the therapist arguing my doing so was a sign of how sick I was. Many therapists just plain suck. But I learned something from each one.  Maybe I just had dumb luck. Perhaps I managed to find those who were just like my mother.  Much of their behavior resembled hers- just without her constant state of panic and her deep commitment to and love for me. I find comfort in talking about immature people suffering from arrested development.  I have been following the trauma-caused theme for a while, but this is new.  As I view many people I know, including myself, through this lens, I find it downright comforting. If it’s immaturity, there’s a solution. We can grow up. Toward the end of her life, my mom said, “The only thing I regret is that Daddy never got to see me grow up.”  He had died a good thirty years before. I doubt she would have grown up if he had lived. The second question is, would he have liked the grown-up version, or was he attracted to the child? 

   I must repeat, I do love this perspective.  It is so much more forgiving.  That doesn’t mean I’m interested in subjecting myself to someone whose immaturity manifests as personal hostility.

   My friend Jean, whose daughter died recently, leaving two young children behind, hosted a commemoration on Saturday for friends of Kelly’s who couldn’t attend services in Hawaii. I remember a number like seventy people showed up. While the event was satisfying as it showed how valued her daughter was, she is suffering now. This was the last event related to her daughter. Celebrations of her life are over. Now, real life begins without her.  

   Fortunately, we’re usually too busy with activity right after someone dies to have time to register the loss. That gives us a little time to discover that life goes on. Then, the noise stops, and the silence begins.  Oh, boy!  That’s the not-fun part.  There’s nowhere to go but straight through it.

   I watched The Judge on Netflix with Robert Downey Jr., Robert Duvall,  and Vincent D’Onofrio. What a cast!! What a treat!