Well, Good Godfrey! What’s everyone been doing, me included? I think Barbara and Toni might still be locked out — I’ll have to check — and Jenny’s been having a root canal and god knows what I’ve been doing. Oh, writing. And holding my BFF’s hand while her infant grandson has been going through a medical crisis. Fortunately that seems to have been resolved.
And I start out the morning holy and then begin eating like a pig and miss dinner all together. This weekend I’m going to finally get my 2012 tax stuff together and then we’ll be terribly depressed because of the money we have to pay in taxes (we were so broke last year we could only send a token amount in the quarterly estimates) and then Richie will brood and i’ll get upset and …
I have a new goal in this life. Midweek I had fallen asleep on the sofa when I heard Tim come in. When I woke up I was dying to ask Richie what kind of mood Tim was in. Because if he was in a good mood I’d be happy and relax, which is fine and dandy. But if he was angry or upset I’d worry.
Which is crazy. When he was young and going through The Troubles I would ask Richie what kind of mood he was in every morning. We would brace ourselves or relax. We learned not to do that, but it seems to be hard-wired into me. So I fought it all evening and didn’t ask Richie what kind of mood he was in.
But I’ve got to work on that. Because there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about my kids now. I can’t make them happy, I can’t fix what’s troubling them. Nor with Richie either.
You know, when I’m driving through Montpelier or Morrisville (nearby towns) and I see some kid (or even adult) walking alone and looking vulnerable I start getting upset. One reason I seldom get angry at anything (like drivers or people in stores). I imagine they’re people like my children and just made a mistake or were distracted.
Some people area assholes. I don’t know why, but some people really insist on being unpleasant and troublesome no matter how nice you are. Jenny has a neighbor like that (though most of hers are wonderful) and I’ve run into similar people. I think it’s a form of adrenaline addiction. Like rage addiction (something an old friend of mine has, and something my mother had). They need the juice they get from a confrontation just like a junkie needs a fix.
But I digress. Most people just fuck up from good reason — they’re doing the best they can, or at least that’s what I prefer to believe.
There was an episode from the original Star Trek about an Empath (it was an alien race) called Gem. She took on the pain of people, almost to the point of her own death, which you know, I’d do. I think most of us would do that for our kids — gladly take on their troubles, even die for them, if it would spare them.
But it doesn’t. We’re not like Gem — we can twist in torture and even die and it doesn’t make a damned bit of difference. Worrying about how Tim is feeling is a waste of time — he’ll feel what he feels, and sometimes it doesn’t have anything to do with anything but how he slept.
A caveat — Tim has been doing really well. He’s doing landscaping for his father-in-law, who’s the best forester in the area, he’s given up cigarettes, he’s blown away by the baby.
But part of me dreads calls from my daughter, for fear she’ll be weeping (that happens far less often than it used to).
I gotta learn to let go. For some reason I don’t like the stuff i’ve read from Melanie Beattie, the co-dependence expert, but maybe it’s simply her prose style.
Meditation. That would help. Meditation focusing on letting go. I’ve got enough keeping my own life afloat. I can detach with love. I just seem to be having a hard time doing it.
I’d better dive into the taxes (I hope I have the software). Pray for me.