Reconnecting

It had been 16 months since I'd seen my parents.

My father-in-law died a week and a half ago. My husband and I had discussed whether or not to invite my parents to the funeral. We both agreed it seemed petty to delete them.

We've been in touch via email for the past few months. I had to take a break from my relationship with them to focus on my own healing. You'd think they would be instrumental in helping me heal from childhood sexual abuse (as they were not the abusers), but they haven't been. They've dragged me down. Infused me with guilt. Defended at least one abuser while maintaining a relationship with him. 

They say one set of things, but their actions tell a different story.

I had wondered how we might reconnect. I thought there would need to be a cathartic movie scene. Crying, yelling, apologies, brilliant insight -- all set to swelling music with the scene ending in a warm embrace.

It wasn't like that at all. I was pleased to see them at the visitation. Grateful that my mother had arranged to bring food for those of us there. Deeply thankful when she led my daughter away to regroup and get some food.

I sat and chatted with my dad. Nothing of importance. I felt myself beginning to slip into the old persona, but I stopped myself. 

After the funeral, they were complimentary of the music choices, my husband's comments, and a reading I had done. (They are professional mourners, as a friend of mine says, so they tend to critique funerals.)

I took a moment to tell them that I appreciated their giving me time to heal. They assured me they only wanted to do what I needed. I believe they mean that. There are just aspects of the situation that they are unwilling or unable to follow to the logical conclusion.

The next day I got an email from them --

We thought everything last night was appropriate and well done. Both you and Alan did your parts extremely well. We were proud of both of you. We hope all goes just as well today.

Here is our itinerary for the trip. We will be home on Saturday, May --, about 7:00 or 7:30, if the plane is on time.

Thank you for your wonderful response to us.

So now I am back in touch with my parents. I don't know what that means. I don't know if I can maintain appropriate boundaries for myself. 

I hope so. 



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FIL and DD

It's April and when I left my father-in-law's house this afternoon it was sleeting. That's the kind of spring we are having, and let me just say, it's not doing a darn thing for my mood. My mood which is bleak already. My mood which my family will tell you has been in the toilet lately. My mood that I can't quite explain.

Just blah. A little tired. A little sad. A little anxious. I can list some pretty good reasons for my down in the dumps attitude. 
-- Blah non-spring weather following a blah non-winter. 
-- My father-in-law is in declining health. It's hard watching someone I care about die. It's harder watching the man I love lose his father -- his last remaining parent. It's hard helping my children understand their dad's moodiness. And I'm a fixer at heart. These things that can't be fixed, no matter what I do, they really undo me. 
-- Add to that my own struggles with past childhood abuse, and April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I'm helping my husband with a presentation on the diagnosis and treatment of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I guess that about sums things up.

So what do you do when the stress keeps building, and there's really not much to be done about it, but get through it? 

I pray . . . a lot.

I write.

I cook.

I breathe.

I make lists.

I beat up on myself mentally. (A really bad habit, that I'm trying to break.)

So I'm writing. I'm sharing about hard things, and hoping I don't get backlash for being a negative Nellie. 

It's just that the reality of this life is beauty and messy and happy and sad and thrilling and awful. And if we only talk about the pretty stuff, we're leaving a lot unsaid. And unsaid things can do a lot of damage.

So I'm saying that right now, in this time and place, it's tough. I believe it will get better. I believe someday I'll look back on this period of my life and see things I need to see that I can't see now. And through it is the only way to get there.

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