As it is now in my life, sleep is just a brief passing during the night. I fall asleep but then awake between 1:30 and 2:00 a.m., fall asleep sometime after four a.m., and wake again before dawn. Rather than toss and turn and possibly ruin my husband’s sleep, I get up and gather myself to face my family, albeit over the phone.
Since Mom lives the furthest and is three hours ahead, and it is just after 6 a.m., I call her first. I thought for sure she would answer, so I left her a voice mail. Now what? Then, my phone buzzes; she is returning my call.
We discuss The Lump, how I am coping, my doctors, and all that. My husband, how is he? The kids, does the oldest know? She has to ask this as our oldest is not speaking with us. He has deemed us the root of all evil in his life or something to that effect. He is lost and hurt and lashing out. Something he should have done in his 20’s but waited until his 30’s to start. My mother thinks this is something we should fix, or at least she used to tell me we had to fix this; we’re the adults. I think she now realizes, we cannot fix this, this is something our adult son needs to come to terms with in his own life. No parent is perfect. We all make mistakes. Some are bigger than others, and kids don’t come with an owner’s manual.
We all go into parenthood determined not to be like our parents or not to make the mistakes our parents made. However, I quickly learned that we make our own. Nothing prepares you for all the things your children will do, the mistakes they will make, and how you will react. Nothing prepares you for the fear that comes up when your child walks to school on their own for the first time or goes off on their bicycle beyond your vision, and so many other instances where your brain can just imagine all the bad things that can happen. It’s hard to let them go, to let them make mistakes, be hurt, learn, grow. Moreover, each one is different. Each one finds new ways to illicit that fear response, to push your buttons, and to bring on the anger and frustration.
As our children grew up, we told them we were not perfect. We apologized for the times we reacted instead of acted, for the times we were wrong. We told them that as parents, it was our job to find new ways to emotionally traumatize them from how our parents emotionally traumatized us. It would be their jobs as adults to get off the cross, build a bridge, and get over it.
The oldest has been hurt by so many little traumas in his life. Some were caused by me specifically, some by us, his stepfather and I; we were just trying to do our best with what we had. In addition, his biological father has contributed to those hurts too. His siblings do not understand how he can lash out at us in this way to turn his back on his family and walk away. I understand he’s taking out his hurts on those he knows in the deepest recesses of his heart, who will still love him when he learns how to deal with his traumas and starts to heal.
So, yes, I have told the oldest what has been happening. I do have a way to communicate with him if necessary. I cannot make him respond, though. His responses to date have been almost nothing. Just an acknowledgment that he has seen my communication. My mother is angry with him for this. She wants to call him and give him a “talking to. ” I ask her not to do that. She is his grandmother. Her job is just to love him unconditionally, no matter what difficulties there are between us. She asks me if I am mad at him for such callous behavior. I tell her, no; I am not mad at him. I hurt for him. This is not something I can fix for him, and I know as much as he says his life is good and he is happy with those he has chosen to surround himself with, I know he is masking the pains that he doesn’t want to face. Until he does, this cannot be fixed. And he will continue to hurt and continue to be alone among all his friends and lovers.
We move on, talk about other realities, and after a while, we say our goodbyes.
I text my cousin, she is more than my cousin, she is my sister. Having grown up in a house with four brothers, having my cousin as my “sister” was nice. I know she and her husband are spending a weekend away, and they are busy doing their fun things without their kids. I tell her to call me when she has the chance, I am ready to talk.
My husband is now up, so I should finish getting ready for my day. I need to run some errands, shop, and go to the bank, and take a nap. Our plan is to go to Disneyland to see the Halloween decorations and possibly watch the fireworks.
Before I leave, I call my dad. They are at the club, getting their exercise, and they will call me back later.
While running the errands, my parents call. We discuss what has been diagnosed and then my dad tells me his sister, my aunt, when he was telling her, that she said it sounds just like what she had almost 10 years ago. She just told him about it! Wow, I am totally blown away. I cannot imagine not telling my siblings about a cancer diagnosis, going through with chemo, surgery, and everything, and not even telling them. Well, now I need to go back and update all my medical histories. Good to know.
I finished shopping, got home, put it all away, and laid down for a nap before we headed to the park. My husband decided I needed sleep, so he didn’t wake me when the time approached for our intended departure. I slept until almost 5 pm. We went anyway. As we approached the parking structure on Disneyland Drive, it was blocked by cones and a police car. Traffic was horrid; everyone was being redirected to downtown Disney parking. We looked at each other and decided we didn’t want to deal with that traffic, nor the crowds, if it was that crowded in the parks. My husband asked me if I wanted to do something else, of course! We’re in the area; let’s go eat dinner at our favorite restaurant.
Away we went. About 20 minutes later, we arrived only to find my boss and his family already seated and having dinner, too. Then we ended up being seated next to them. Good taste! We discussed The Lump and the numerous possibilities that loom ahead of us. He reminded me that I still need to write a bucket list.
We go home afterward, and I feed the stray cat that adopted us years ago. He doesn’t really come into the house, but the backyard is all his. I call him the Toothless Wonder Cat. He’s lost all his teeth but still catches the occasional rodent and leaves it as a present for us.
We have a recliner in the back, and that is where the cat prefers to eat, on the recliner and then in our laps. I fell asleep out there. Thankfully, my husband woke us up so I could go to bed. Maybe I will sleep the whole night again.
Life is craving sleep