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. 



linking up with Just Write

The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . May 7, 2013

Outside my window . . . it is partly cloudy with a cold wind. Hopefully the rain is gone and we will see some sunshine today.

I am thinking . . . about trying to get some order around our house.

I am thankful . . . for my bff, Linda, who helped me work on sorting things at my FIL's house yesterday.

In the kitchen . . . chicken and herb tortellini with marinara sauce.

I am wearing . . . my summer weight robe, but I'm wishing I had on something a bit warmer.

I am creating . . . a scarf to give a way, and some prayer beads that were special ordered.

I am going . . . to get my haircut this week or die trying!

I am wondering . . . about the calming effect of my daily Bible devotion. It is amazing to me how much better my days run when I make sure to get those few quiet moments in each morning.

I am reading . . . Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey. Very dark!

I am looking forward to . . . another fun day on Saturday with my besties. I am in need again : )

I am hearing . . . birds chirping. 

Around the house . . . we have a nest of house wren (I think) in a box on the carport. The box had been set outside to breakdown for recycling, but the mama bird found it and built her nest in the back corner. We now have at least 3 baby birds! I saw them begging for food yesterday as I was unloading the car.

I am pondering . . . this idea of normalcy. Perhaps what I'm really craving is routine. I find that the older I get the more I like my routine, and the more it annoys me to have it disturbed.

One of my favorite things . . . is planning new crafting ideas. I have orders for prayer beads waiting in my in box, and I've reached the point in crocheting that I can pick something to make "just because". I love that!

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . working at FIL's house, fighting the chaos in my own home, date night with dh, and a fun day with the besties.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

for more visit The Simple Woman's Daybook

Apple Raisin Oat Crumble Remix

3 large red delicious apples, peeled and sliced

4 ounces raisins

1/2 cup demerara sugar

1 T. cornstarch

1 t. cinnamon

Mix all ingredients well and place in a 8x8 baking dish that has been greased with unsalted butter or sprayed with cooking spray.

1 cup rolled oats

3/4 cup all purpose flour

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

4 oz. unsalted butter, melted

Mix all ingredient until moist, then spread evenly over the top of the fruit mixture. Bake at 375 degrees for 55 minutes or until top is golden brown and fruit is bubbly. Serve with vanilla ice cream. Serves 4-6.

This is my variation on apple cranberry oat crumble from rustic fruit desserts. I had some red delicious apples in need of being baked, but no cranberries, so I substituted raisins and cut the recipe in half. I also simplified the topping basically because I'm a lazy cook! (No photo because the family devoured it)

happy eating!

linking up with Made You Mondays

On Loving Myself When I'm Different

I have a picture of the way I think I am supposed to be. It is based on my family of origin, my upbringing, my experiences, and my environment. Unfortunately most of it is not based in the reality of who I am.

If I had to describe myself, I would say I'm a short, overweight, opinionated, sometimes angry introvert. What I think people want me to be is a slightly taller, slim, pleasant, soft-spoken, kind-hearted extrovert. I can pull off aspects of that persona for brief periods of time, but it is extremely tiring.

I know there are times in life when we all have to adopt certain personas to survive the current situation, but there is a part of me that resents it so much these days. Maybe it's all the digging, fighting, and struggling I have gone through over the past few years to try and unearth my real self. Maybe it's just getting older and being tired of expectations that are placed on me. 

I played the dutiful daughter-in-law last week at my father-in-law's visitation and funeral. A lot of it was genuine and who I truly am. But there were times when I knew in my heart I was playing a role while racking my brain to come up with the right things to say. Smiling as people told stories about Pop, while I'm remembering the rest of the story in my head. Listening while the speakers at the funeral recounted episodes that showed one thing from their perspective, while making me think the complete opposite.

The thing that's bothered me the most through all of this experience (except for the obvious pain my husband and children are feeling in the loss) is my own inability to cry. 

This man who died a week ago Saturday, who I had known since 1983, who had been my father-in-law and the grandfather to my children, and I can't summon up a single tear for him. 

There was a brief shifting in my being when I walked into his home the day he had died. That realization that he wouldn't be there anymore. A dampness on my lashes as I said my own final farewell to him before they closed the casket. Realizing how much had been left unsaid. A momentary catch in my voice as I did a reading at his service. And that's all. 

What kind of person knows another being for 30 years, yet can't shed a tear at his passing?

I talked with my husband about it. He's not bothered by it. His father and I had a rocky start to our relationship. He wasn't particularly impressed by me, and I thought he was arrogant and caustic. Plus he flat out scared me. Over time, we came to a detente, but it never really moved much beyond that.

I tried to fill the matriarcal shoes when my mother-in-law died, but I didn't have the wherewithal to stand up to my father-in-law. So we struggled for years with holidays and family traditions.

Over the past few months, as his health declined, I tried to take care of him by cooking for him, visiting, and doing laundry. He was not an easy man to help, and I often felt rebuffed. So I struggled along, trying to help him as best I could.

Maybe later on the tears will fall, inconsolably. Maybe I've just become too much of realist where relationships are concerned. Maybe I'm just different, and I need to embrace that.

So I'm working on loving myself through this time. Experiencing something new and unexpected. Something I really don't like about myself, but trying to be kind in that recognition. Because maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe it's just who I am.

linking up with a love dare

{this moment}

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Brave

Courage is fear that has said it's prayers.

I've heard it time and time again. You are so brave to tell your story.

I don't feel brave. Most of the time I feel afraid. Even after I tell it. Afraid that this will be the time -- the telling -- that does me in -- that brings disaster on my head.

I tell my story because I have to tell it. I need to tell it.

I tell it to help others. I tell it to make sure I don't fall back into the world of denial. I tell it to remind myself of what I've survived.

Brave leaves me with a picture of a soldier going into battle, and I certainly don't feel like a soldier.

Courage is "mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty". I might be able to apply courage. 

But, brave and courage are synonyms, so I guess I'm stuck with both of them.

linking up with five minute friday

:: right now ::

:: right now I am . . .

:: grateful to have the visitation and funeral for my father-in-law behind us

:: not sure how I'm feeling with all these emotions swirling around in my head

:: glad to have both my kids and husband home for one more day

:: blessed to have had family and friends gather with us to talk, laugh, and cry as we said goodbye

:: marveling at the amount of things to do and stuff to be taken care of!

:: tired and yet unable to get enough rest to feel better

:: looking forward to 4 new beading projects I have lined up over the past weeks

:: trying to decide on my next crochet project -- I keep finding more and more patterns I want to try

:: pleased with the wonderful quartet of men who sang so beautifully at the funeral

:: anticipating finding my rhythm and routine again very soon

:: stunned that somehow it is suddenly May

peace and blessings to you all