Viewing problems; problems viewing

No one can "push our buttons" or "jerk our chains" more than parents, or children.  I am sandwiched between both.

View from Room 411

Still in ICU with my father.  He can be mean and ugly.  So can I.

In so many ways, we are nothing alike.  But of course, actually, we are.  Yeah.  He brings out the shadow in me.  To see it, own it, learn it, accept it: that is the task; to turn that power toward benefit; to use that energy, instead of letting it burn me.

The view ain't much.  But my vision is increasing.

Time out

When in critical care units, elderly folk sometimes get a little crazy.  Or a lot crazy.  When one is a little crazy to start with, it can be . . . really interesting.  And not always in a funny way.  My father does not suffer from dementia, but he is a little crazy.  At the best of times, he manages OK.  He's able to find the pause button.

The past two days, not so much.  While he has a better side, can be quite engaging and charming, he also has a mean side.  With the "ICU psychosis" going on, he doesn't bother with the pause button.

He is very angry today at me; and being very mean about it.  While I know this is about him, and not about me, still it ain't easy to take for long.  He has dismissed me from court; "get your queer ass outta here."  Oh, well, OK.

The angry looks, and words, and gestures are all coming from his anger over life, the universe, and everything.  It's not about me.  In fact, I have been told that I have a really nice queer ass of which to be proud. (That is not an observation he has made, nor do I wish to hear from him).

Nonetheless, I need to take care of me.  While my head understands, my heart hurts.  The well-trained, very kind, and competent staff in the critical care unit can take of him for now.  I'm taking care of me.

Difficult

The past few months have brought forth in me some serious re-appraisals of life, the universe, and everything.  Some big shifts are beginning.  And this is a good thing.

One serious endeavor that I've undertaken is to stop drinking.  This has proved to be more than I can handle by shear willpower alone.  And I've sought help and found it.  This is a good and positive thing.  Not what I expected, not where I'd "planned" to be.  Does anyone?

And it has been going well . . . . .
And then, in the way that families seem to work, the spirits move, things shift and other things seem to want to drag you back where you were, doing what you were doing.  In Family Systems Theory, if one member of the system seeks to make changes, the other parts of the system will attempt to pull that one back into the established homeostasis.

It is not conscious, it just happens.  Nobody is thinking, "how dare you change."  The funny thing is, none of them even know about the changes I've been making.  It is the spirits, the humors, the angels, or demons.  Who knows which.

So, my 90 yr. old dad becomes ill and is admitted to the hospital.  And gets worse.  Now, in a critical care unit.  While dementia has not been one of his health problems, he is suffering from some "ICU psychosis;" not so unusual for elderly folk.  But it is maddening for me.  He wants to leave, but he is not begging.  He is demanding.  He has always been a demanding sort.  Not always a nice guy, really.

Damn, this is pushing my buttons.  Remaining calm, cool, and non-anxious is difficult.  And, Oh would I like a drink.  Several, actually.  But that will only make things worse.  That I know.  I'm hanging in.

It's going to be a long night.

And now we begin again

Well, friends, it's been years.  I am still alive and well, and even better than that. I hope to start blogging again, so thought I might aw well see if I remembered the pass word!

This being a (somewhat) anonymous blog, there are things I feel safer sharing than on, say, Facebook (oh, the scourge of it).

Finally, I accepted myself as gay, around 2004.  Separated from my wife in 2007.  Came out at work in January 2010. What a decade this has been.  I have learned so much, and learning still.  Experiencing so much.

Always there are thresholds to cross; the closet threshold was a major step.  But there were more, and are more.

The latest threshold in into sobriety.  More later.  Cheers.