clevermanka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clevermanka) wrote2014-10-14 01:27 pm
clevermanka) wrote2014-10-14 01:27 pm
Inside you the time moves and she don't fade
Camp Nerd Fitness. The idea of camping horrifies me, but I can't deny everyone there seems to be having an awesome time.
I kind of want everything on this page by Katy Bowman, director of the Restorative Exercise Institute.
Today's Tumblr collection is Tuesday, October 14: Ghosts.
Okay, so family stories.
Nana is not doing well. She's starting to check out, in my opinion, and understandably. She's pretty much immobile, and relies on my parents to help her with everything. She can't help in the kitchen, go to the grocery store, take herself for a pedicure--nothing. She can't even go to the bathroom by herself, so there has to be someone with her every hour of the day. When Mommy and Daddy are both out of the house, even for a couple hours, they pay a home care nurse to stay with her. Every moment of the day there is someone there with her. She is never alone except when she's sleeping. Can you imagine that? I can't.
Daddy is still depressed (suspected side-effect from his heart-failure episode a couple years ago), and as far as I can tell, is doing nothing about it. According to Mommy, when she's brought it up, he's been either dismissive or defensive about it. Denial is a great way to overcome a mental illness, so I imagine that's going to go real well for him. He rarely engaged me (or anyone) in conversation. Most of the time he sat in his office and did...stuff? During meals, he hunched over his plate and didn't talk much. I wonder if part of that was due to last time I visited, I pointed out his unfortunate habit of talking with his mouth full (like, he would take a big bite of food in the middle of a sentence and then kept talking through it--so gross). Or maybe he's just not interested in talking with me because there's nothing in his life except GOD and CHURCH and I'm not going to talk with him about that?
This man used to be a motivational speaker. He could talk to anyone. I remember him telling stories about his baseball-playing days and everyone, including him, laughing until we had tears in our eyes. Instead, I have a whole host of sad dad stories from this trip.
Sad Dad Story One: He said he wasn't hungry before we left for our trips to the museum and apple orchard, but at the orchard he bought a caramel apple and then complained that his tooth was hurting because of a bad crown. When I mentioned that if he had dental issues, a caramel apple probably wasn't his best option, he said, "Well, it was that or the caramel corn." Mommy (good for her) said "You could have had just a regular apple." Or, you know, (I thought) returned from those precious errands in time to eat lunch with the rest of us before we left for the museum.
Sad Dad Story Two: On our way back from the orchard, I offered to drive so he could eat his caramel apple without driving at the same time (never mind that he finished the apple before we even pulled out of the parking lot--I don't think he chews his food). But it's okay because his driving is nothing short of terrifying. He drifts in and out of his lane with some regularity. Anyway, I was driving back home, had to brake on the highway, and the car started shuddering horribly. I had problems keeping control of the steering. I asked him how long that'd been happening and he said since the last time he had it aligned. I asked him why he didn't take the car back and he said they don't go to that shop anymore. So that's the only alignment place in the city of Indianapolis? I told him to call first thing on Monday to get that taken care of and I was not getting back in this car to go to the airport (and I didn't, we took Mommy's car). It's not like he can't afford to get his car fixed. It's not like he's practically self-employed and doesn't have the time to get his car fixed. So why would he keep driving around in an unsafe vehicle (which he must know isn't running right, else why would they have stopped going to that repair place)? It just smells like apathy in the worst way to me.
Sad Dad Story Three: When he dropped me off at the airport, he handed me some money to cover the fee for airport parking (normal) along with a book (not normal). He said that he hadn't read the book yet (?) but had two copies (?) and would appreciate someone who'd read it and give him an honest critique (?). This was the book. He handed me these things just as he was getting out of the car to open the trunk so I had a moment to look at it and have a What The Fucking Fuck moment. This is the third time my father has attempted to evangelize/prosthelytize to me, but this time he did it with money. I have no idea if he intended that or if he had any idea how incredibly gross that was. As I took my suitcase, I told him that I barely have time to read things I really want to read, and I was not going to read that book. Then I handed it back to him and pocketed the money. Petty? Passive Aggressive? Maybe, but OH WELL. I was angry and insulted and just...baffled...by this person whom I used to respect and whose company I used to enjoy. Now he works for a rich church that he claims would probably fire him if they knew he voted for Obama, which just seems horrible. I mean, why do that? Why not find a position at a church where you don't have to keep your beliefs secret? That's just repulsive. I don't get it. I don't get a lot of things about my dad these days.
And finally, my mom. Oh, Mommy. She's a simple person, and I don't mean that disparagingly. She just has a small, sheltered view of the world and honestly I'm not sure she has the capacity to expand it at this point. She does read my Facebook, though, and claims to enjoy watching me smack down the asshats who come crawling around with their Not All Men shit. That's not to say she's easy, though. Mommy has never been an easy person to like. We're kind of similar in that regard. We can both be prickly, although she's softening as she ages while I think my thorns are getting longer and stronger. Overall, though, seeing Mommy is definitely the best part of my trips to Indy. We enjoy our time thrifting together (I scored eight cashmere sweaters this trip AW YISS), and we can talk about things like Nana's issues with dying. She also let me buy her some self-myofascial release toys (a foam roller and a couple therapy balls) and I think she'll use them, at least occasionally. I told her even if she only does it for a few minutes once a week, that's better than nothing. She acknowledged that she felt better after just one (very short) session. I think she's terrified of suffering the same immobile fate as her mother. I don't blame her. NGL, I look to my mother and nana as a source of inspiration for what I don't want to happen to me.
So that was my Fall 2014 trip to visit my family. Certainly better than![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mckitterick's same-weekend visit to his family, which included his mom's funeral. That was a little weird. And awkward. I'm glad we have such a good relationship that he was able to let me go on my scheduled trip and not feel abandoned or neglected by my not accompanying him. We both felt it was best to get our separate Familial Obligations wrapped up in one weekend.
Oh, so yeah, that local hippie craft sale thing is this Sunday at Frank's North Star Tavern from 4pm to 8pm. The past couple of these I've attended have been cool, and there's a wide assortment of cool stuff: homemade jams (which I'm told are delicious and the woman who makes them is a doll), funky terrariums, outsider art, beaded jewelry (of course) and a whole assortment of crafty stuff that was made with love by probably very high people. Come join us!
I kind of want everything on this page by Katy Bowman, director of the Restorative Exercise Institute.
Today's Tumblr collection is Tuesday, October 14: Ghosts.
Okay, so family stories.
Nana is not doing well. She's starting to check out, in my opinion, and understandably. She's pretty much immobile, and relies on my parents to help her with everything. She can't help in the kitchen, go to the grocery store, take herself for a pedicure--nothing. She can't even go to the bathroom by herself, so there has to be someone with her every hour of the day. When Mommy and Daddy are both out of the house, even for a couple hours, they pay a home care nurse to stay with her. Every moment of the day there is someone there with her. She is never alone except when she's sleeping. Can you imagine that? I can't.
Daddy is still depressed (suspected side-effect from his heart-failure episode a couple years ago), and as far as I can tell, is doing nothing about it. According to Mommy, when she's brought it up, he's been either dismissive or defensive about it. Denial is a great way to overcome a mental illness, so I imagine that's going to go real well for him. He rarely engaged me (or anyone) in conversation. Most of the time he sat in his office and did...stuff? During meals, he hunched over his plate and didn't talk much. I wonder if part of that was due to last time I visited, I pointed out his unfortunate habit of talking with his mouth full (like, he would take a big bite of food in the middle of a sentence and then kept talking through it--so gross). Or maybe he's just not interested in talking with me because there's nothing in his life except GOD and CHURCH and I'm not going to talk with him about that?
This man used to be a motivational speaker. He could talk to anyone. I remember him telling stories about his baseball-playing days and everyone, including him, laughing until we had tears in our eyes. Instead, I have a whole host of sad dad stories from this trip.
Sad Dad Story One: He said he wasn't hungry before we left for our trips to the museum and apple orchard, but at the orchard he bought a caramel apple and then complained that his tooth was hurting because of a bad crown. When I mentioned that if he had dental issues, a caramel apple probably wasn't his best option, he said, "Well, it was that or the caramel corn." Mommy (good for her) said "You could have had just a regular apple." Or, you know, (I thought) returned from those precious errands in time to eat lunch with the rest of us before we left for the museum.
Sad Dad Story Two: On our way back from the orchard, I offered to drive so he could eat his caramel apple without driving at the same time (never mind that he finished the apple before we even pulled out of the parking lot--I don't think he chews his food). But it's okay because his driving is nothing short of terrifying. He drifts in and out of his lane with some regularity. Anyway, I was driving back home, had to brake on the highway, and the car started shuddering horribly. I had problems keeping control of the steering. I asked him how long that'd been happening and he said since the last time he had it aligned. I asked him why he didn't take the car back and he said they don't go to that shop anymore. So that's the only alignment place in the city of Indianapolis? I told him to call first thing on Monday to get that taken care of and I was not getting back in this car to go to the airport (and I didn't, we took Mommy's car). It's not like he can't afford to get his car fixed. It's not like he's practically self-employed and doesn't have the time to get his car fixed. So why would he keep driving around in an unsafe vehicle (which he must know isn't running right, else why would they have stopped going to that repair place)? It just smells like apathy in the worst way to me.
Sad Dad Story Three: When he dropped me off at the airport, he handed me some money to cover the fee for airport parking (normal) along with a book (not normal). He said that he hadn't read the book yet (?) but had two copies (?) and would appreciate someone who'd read it and give him an honest critique (?). This was the book. He handed me these things just as he was getting out of the car to open the trunk so I had a moment to look at it and have a What The Fucking Fuck moment. This is the third time my father has attempted to evangelize/prosthelytize to me, but this time he did it with money. I have no idea if he intended that or if he had any idea how incredibly gross that was. As I took my suitcase, I told him that I barely have time to read things I really want to read, and I was not going to read that book. Then I handed it back to him and pocketed the money. Petty? Passive Aggressive? Maybe, but OH WELL. I was angry and insulted and just...baffled...by this person whom I used to respect and whose company I used to enjoy. Now he works for a rich church that he claims would probably fire him if they knew he voted for Obama, which just seems horrible. I mean, why do that? Why not find a position at a church where you don't have to keep your beliefs secret? That's just repulsive. I don't get it. I don't get a lot of things about my dad these days.
And finally, my mom. Oh, Mommy. She's a simple person, and I don't mean that disparagingly. She just has a small, sheltered view of the world and honestly I'm not sure she has the capacity to expand it at this point. She does read my Facebook, though, and claims to enjoy watching me smack down the asshats who come crawling around with their Not All Men shit. That's not to say she's easy, though. Mommy has never been an easy person to like. We're kind of similar in that regard. We can both be prickly, although she's softening as she ages while I think my thorns are getting longer and stronger. Overall, though, seeing Mommy is definitely the best part of my trips to Indy. We enjoy our time thrifting together (I scored eight cashmere sweaters this trip AW YISS), and we can talk about things like Nana's issues with dying. She also let me buy her some self-myofascial release toys (a foam roller and a couple therapy balls) and I think she'll use them, at least occasionally. I told her even if she only does it for a few minutes once a week, that's better than nothing. She acknowledged that she felt better after just one (very short) session. I think she's terrified of suffering the same immobile fate as her mother. I don't blame her. NGL, I look to my mother and nana as a source of inspiration for what I don't want to happen to me.
So that was my Fall 2014 trip to visit my family. Certainly better than
mckitterick's same-weekend visit to his family, which included his mom's funeral. That was a little weird. And awkward. I'm glad we have such a good relationship that he was able to let me go on my scheduled trip and not feel abandoned or neglected by my not accompanying him. We both felt it was best to get our separate Familial Obligations wrapped up in one weekend.Oh, so yeah, that local hippie craft sale thing is this Sunday at Frank's North Star Tavern from 4pm to 8pm. The past couple of these I've attended have been cool, and there's a wide assortment of cool stuff: homemade jams (which I'm told are delicious and the woman who makes them is a doll), funky terrariums, outsider art, beaded jewelry (of course) and a whole assortment of crafty stuff that was made with love by probably very high people. Come join us!
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