Rattlin' Around

I've got a lot rattlin' around in the ol' noggin this morning. So much to think about, to worry about, to pray over...So much making my spirit restless and my soul weary. I'm basically a mental mess. I can't talk about it to anyone so I'll leave it here just to get it out of my head and into the world...or the void, as it may be.

A couple weeks ago my sisters and I had a "sisters" day, enjoying lunch, doing some window shopping at a new vendor mall, grabbing iced coffees at a local coffee shop and just doing the talking and hanging out that sisters do.

Somehow the conversation got on to Sis1's (oldest sis) "ability to hear" or her intuition or whatever. She claims that the night Mama died she heard Mama come to her and say "I love you. It's going to be alright" or something like that. She said when she talked to her therapist about this she said she wondered why Mama came to her and not to Sis2 or me and her therapist suggested that Mama knew that Sis1 would take her death the hardest.

My brain shut down when I heard that and I kinda snapped. Not viciously but I shut down that line of talk by asking what the hell that was because I was pretty sure I took it pretty damn hard. Sis2 hadn't heard what she said because it was loud in the coffee shop but she heard me. Sis1 immediately grimaced and said, "Never mind. I'll shut up." And she didn't talk for a while. Sis2 was obliviously talking about how Mama's death affected her kids and I just sat there stewing. I know her therapist was the one who said it but by her repeating it in the context that she has this "gift" to my mind meant she agreed with him. Whether that's the truth or not, I can't say. Like all hard conversations with her, I apologized for going off and the rest of the day was tense until she went home. Sis2 had a venting session about it when I explained to her what was actually said. 

It has stewed quietly in my heart ever since, the way Sis1 centered our mother's death around her. She took it the hardest. Mama came to her and not us. The implication being that she and Mama had a closer relationship than Sis2 and I.  She didn't even come home for Mama's retirement party in 2019, choosing instead to go to the beach with her church's youth group. She missed countless Mother's Days. Countless birthdays. Mama cried over her neglect more times than I can count. Meanwhile Sis2 and I were here. We made time to spend with both our parents. We cooked meals for birthdays, mothers/fathers days. Mama and I spent so much time together commuting to work that at times we could barely stand each other but we trusted each other with the darkest, ugliest parts of ourselves because we loved each other enough to do so. I don't look at my relationship with her as being any better or worse than either of my sisters, though, because I know she loved us all to pieces even when things got complicated or hurtful. And I know her death nearly destroyed all of us. 

I won't lie. I do still harbor resentment towards Sis1 for various things that happened when we were young that shaped me into the neurotic ball of awkward insecure mess I am. Things she did that changed the way our parents parented Sis2 and me. I still harbor resentment toward her for all the ways her selfish behaviors hurt our parents. Her oblivion to how her actions affect others. She's never taken accountability for anything. And even knowing that HER behaviors were shaped by things that happened when we were young...some before I was born...makes me want to try so hard to be easy on her. To work hard at letting my resentment go. I had put in a lot of work towards it and for a long time felt like I was doing so well but that one phrase "she knew I'd take her death the hardest" just pushed it all up again and I find myself struggling to be sympathetic to her anymore. She's in therapy but still can't take any time to do some self reflection? Makes me question what kind of quack she's seeing. But it also makes me realize that I still have so much work of my own to do toward really forgiving her for the parts of me she doesn't even realize she contributed to breaking.

IF Mama did come to her the night before she died (and that's a big IF) knowing Mama, she knew or thought Sis1 may have some regrets over Sis1's neglect over the years and wanted to let her know it was okay. That she was okay and all was forgiven. She didn't come to me or Sis2 because we didn't need that reassurance. We had our issues and our complications with Mama but nothing so big that we feared she didn't know how much we loved her. 

Ugh

That aside, I'm also struggling with a bit of depression again. Questioning my life. Wishing for things I know aren't meant for me. Hating this path I'm currently on but not having any idea how to alter the course. I don't feel as though I'm in control of anything anymore. I don't have FUN anymore. The past six years between Covid and all the deaths in my life just tragically stole all the fun. And I know I'm not the only one feeling that way. My friends are in the same rut. We used to have spontaneous coffee dates or lunch dates. We used to plan girls' night out every so often. Or get together for a random birthday supper. But life just feels like a version of Groundhog's Day where we just go to work, go home, sleep, wash, rinse and repeat. On the rare occasion we do something different, while we do enjoy it, it's exhausting. The drudgery of it all has beaten us down.

I have a great job now that doesn't make me hate myself or anyone else but the monotony of getting up at 5am to go to it, sit for 8 hours, and then go home drains my soul at times. 

The act of living shouldn't feel like just surviving, right?

Then there's all the political, social, and spiritual unrest in the world. Christians behaving like demons in a cult of cruelty. Death and destruction in our communities and abroad. I hear people I once trusted as solid Christians...people who contributed to my education on the Bible and Jesus...spouting hatefulness and arguing with me when I post on FB about feeding the hungry or holding the current president and his cronies accountable for their behaviors. The very things they taught me as a child they speak against with such vitriol now. It hurts my heart and also makes me so angry because I feel duped by them. Sad that they have fallen for the lies and/or never truly believed who Jesus actually is. At times making me question my own thoughts/feelings/beliefs. Like, if such solid Christians are fully following/supporting this man and his actions, am I the one in the wrong? Have I been influenced by the enemy? I know in my heart that compassion and love are never wrong so it makes me angry that they've made me question what I know to be true. And it's so hard seeing so many "Christians" perpetuating such hate in the name of Jesus. So many of the people I love perpetuating such hate in the name of Jesus. Don't get it twisted. I know that I am not perfect. My relationship with Jesus has been rocky over the years and I, too, often fall victim to thinking bad or unkind thoughts. I'm human just like everyone else. And I struggle against the human nature to stand on a pedistol of judement. But it isn't my job to change anyone's heart. I can only share what I believe in my heart to be true and let God do what He does best and pray that He forgives me when my ego gets the better of me.

I've also been battling a lot of negative thoughts about myself and my relationships. I find myself laughing with others who laugh at me and walking away feeling so demoralized and wondering why so many of the people I love with my whole soul find it so amusing to point out my flaws or imply that I'm an idiot. I mean, I do a lot of idiotic things. My mouth gets away from my brain sometimes and I say stupid stuff. Or my anxiety gets the better of me and suddenly I'm a bull in a china shop making a mess. But shouldn't the people you love love you through those things instead of pointing and laughing? Or maybe I'm just overly sensative because I'm soooooo aware of how dumb I can be. I find myself leaving so many conversations or interactions feeling like shit, though. I try so hard and pray so much to speak and behave with kindness because I know I can be harsh. And I pray so hard to speak with wisdom and thoughtfullness because I know I can be careless. Even when I feel I've done a decent job of accomplishing those things I often still find myself confronted with ridicule under the guise of joking or teasing and I do my best to just laugh with them but inside I'm so filled with hurt and anger that it gets harder and harder to chose to interact with anyone. And when I'm unable to just laugh along and I snap I carry guilt over it forever. I hate that part of myself so much and yet I hate laughing along, too. I just want to feel loved and accepted stupidity, bull in a china shop, and all. A hopeless endeavor.

I realize, of course, that I do need therapy. If only I could afford it.

And then there's Milo. He's 18, skeletally thin, incontent, and growing more and more feeble by the day and I have no idea how to know when it's time to let him go. He has his moments of confusion like Libby did when she developed cognative disfunction. And his eyesight is failing. But he's still himself for the most part. He still eats normally. He still gives me little kisses when I ask. He still gets in my lap to nap in the evenings. He still makes all his funny Milo noises. But he doesn't play anymore. And if I'm not in my chair with him he doesn't rest. He doesn't go outside and roll around in the grass anymore. He doesn't carry his toy around. He doesn't beg for or get excited about treats anymore. I'm torn between knowing the time is approaching and fearing I will make the decision too quickly. With Libby, when it was time to let her go, I knew it in my heart. She and I were so connected that I just knew she was ready to go. And it pained me too much to see her struggle so much. She wasn't herself anymore at all. It still hurt like hell to let her go but I was at peace with it because I knew it was best for her.

Part of me fears I'm rushing to conclusions with Milo because I'm tired of being a caretaker. I've been taking care of elderly dogs and sick/elderly people for the past six years and my body and soul are just exhausted. I don't regret or resent it at all. I wouldn't trade that time spent with Libby or my parents for anything. Anyone who has been a caretaker in any capacity can tell you about the mental, spiritual, and physical toll it takes on a person. You wouldn't think that taking care of an elderly dog would cause the same level of exhaustion as taking care of a sick/elderly person but it does. The mental and emotional toll of it, especially. And I am so afraid that the exhaustion will push me to make a decison that isn't right. I love Milo so much and want to do right by him. He's been through so much, too, losing Mama and Daddy and the upheaval of moving him into my home and adjusting to a whole new reality. And having him really did/has helped me so much in my grief of losing Mama, Libby, and Daddy. I don't want to wait too long and have him be miserable but I don't want to cut his life short either. Everyone tells me I'll know like I did with Libby but I can't help but worry. 

Sigh

I am a hot mess.