Sunday, February 27, 2011

Dirty Laundry

I have written 50 blog posts I can't publish.

I can write about being a mom, I can write about CF, about Froggy, about being a writer, about Los Angeles, about a million things. But I can't write about the big D. How could I write about that without hanging our dirty laundry on the cyberspace line?

And yet it encompasses so much of our lives. It is our everyday, our new life, yet it mostly remains private. We have to keep up appearances and pretend that a family didn't really break up, that everyone is still whole. That a child isn't in the middle. Because that would be embarrassing. So we'll smile and nod and just hop over that great chasm that is... well you know.

I can say that I'm tired, disheartened, frustrated, over-worked and angry.

The other day I heard a quote that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up:

"Anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."

Every day I drink this poison, when I come home to dirty dishes, a list of calls, a stack of bills, a dusty house and there is no partner, no one at 9pm when the dog needs to go out and the clothes are in the machine downstairs, and I still have nebulizers to boil, meds to prepare, and all I want to do is say, "Someone else do it!"

Someone else get up in the middle of the night, someone else wake up to the dog and the cats and the kid, just for one day." And when I do ask for help, there is instant regret. Because the repercussions of entitlement, apathy, or passive aggressiveness are worse than just doing it myself. Okay, maybe a little dirty laundry. Just a bra or sock. What do you expect?

When I ask for help it's what a mom must feel like when she asks her teenager to clean her room. Clothes shoved under the rug, a naked mattress, and a moldy cheese sandwich in the closet. The bare minimum, just enough to say, "I did what you asked, geeeeez." But it never resembles actual help. And ultimately, I come in, rake the clothes out from under the rug, put the sheets on the mattress, and throw away the moldy cheese sandwich.

And then I find myself chugging poison like it's red kool-aid in a South American cult. Because asking for help and getting half-ass is worse than nothing. It looks like help, it smells like help. But it isn't help. It's the cardboard cut-out of help.

Every night I go to bed with the weight of the world on my shoulders. Ultimately, realistically I am responsible for Froggy. What doctors she sees, what school she attends, if her clothes are clean, if she's had her meds, if her bed is made, prescriptions called in, if her teeth are brushed. It's up to me. And it's tough and it's even tougher keeping it to myself. So I'm sorry if I threw in a sheet or two, a towel from the hamper. But you should've seen the other 50 posts.


Casey said...

I so totally get where you are coming from. For every one post I posted in the early days, there were a million more I had written in my head that I didn't post.

The weight of the world indeed.


PicklePits said...

You are not alone in your dirty laundry. We all have it, every single one of us. Those who say they don't or act as if it's all perfectly folded and stain free are just full of crap - and more often than not are the ones walking around town with skid marks in their panties.

Get it out there. Air it out. At least in doing so you'll be ready for the next load.


Mimi said...

hugs and kisses.....I want to say it will get better but I don't know.....

Lydia Russell said...

I totally get you. No matter how much we try to make sure everything looks picture perfect to the outside world, it just isn't to be. And probably never will.

Been thinking about you and Froggy. Azer too. He told me something the other day he wanted to tell Froggy something, but I don't remember what it was. I'm sure he'll tell me tomorrow!

Aroundthewaygirl said...

I say air it when you're ready. You never know who your words could help. One thing I hadn't realized before was how far a D reaches. My sister and her husband divorced a few years ago and my mom lost 20 pounds and looked like she'd aged 5. I guess it's just as hard to watch your daughter get her heart broken at 30 as it is at 15. I know I cried more than a few tears for her too. So, talk about it, if it'll help take off some of the load.

fleetfeet said...

It's good to hear from you. I wondered why there were no postings lately...I am glad to hear that you were blogging, even if you did not post them. I wish I had something to say or do to make it all better for you...we all know that's impossible. Just know you are loved.

Lydia Russell said...

Ok, Azer typed the following himself. The word there that doesn't look right is "mickey-button". Lol. He wanted to tell Froggy this because of the post a while ago that said Froggy wanted a "plain body". If you can't figure it out, let me know. They teach them to write by sounding out letters, not spelling.

haveing a mecybutin is not that bad to me. haveing a mecybutin is good becus they do not mace a big deal about food.

Ratatosk said...

It helps to get those feelings out. Even if it’s on blogs or in journals that nobody will ever see. I find it comforting to write things down in an effort to come up with a solution or at least another way of dealing with difficult people or situations. Sometimes I’m so busy rushing around trying to get organized for the next day, making supper, returning phone calls, paying bills that I need to take a step back and just breathe.

Taking the time to listen to one of Max’s wild tales of mummies and aliens or watch him battle bad guys on one of his many xbox lego games while he’s vesting, helps to put things in perspective. I’d much rather be hanging out with him than worrying about the giant dust bunnies that are taking over the knick knack shelves in the living room.

You’re a wonderful Mama to froggy and a wonderful person. Seeing photos of froggy in her element, looking happy is proof of that.

Froggymama said...

Thank you everyone!

And Kelly, is it bad that the phrase 'skid mark' still sends me into jr. high hysterics?

Anonymous said...

...hang in there...hugs jcn

iColossus / Monster said...

You rock. That is all.

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The DutchMac Tribe said...

This is your little corner of cyberspace to do and say whatever the H you feel like. And it's your laundry to hang wherever and whenever you feel like. If the spirit so moves you, hang away. The rest of us out here with you would love to be the fresh air to help you breathe new life.

Ok, that's enough euphemisms for one day. You understand what I mean. xoxoxoxoxo

Anonymous said...

As usual, exquisite writing. Every single mother needs a wife. We need the compound! I am here any time you need me.

The pain will continue as long as you keep hoping he will rise to the occasion, that he will do the right thing and take the initiative. I still fall into that trap - but as the disappointments continue, you learn to do it less.

Write. Write. Write. Write your way out of here. You can do it.


Anonymous said...

I like the quote: "Anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." I'll remember that. I can really use that. =-)