Sometimes I feel disloyal blogging about all the problems I have with my family’s various infirmities, whether physical or mental, as if I am betraying them, my father and brother especially. And yet, these problems are the same ones other people are struggling with — aged parents and dysfunctional siblings or offspring. It’s in talking of these matters that we discover how un-unusual the problems are — we all have seem to have the care of someone thrust on us, disrupting our lives.
Some people have to deal with various other problems, of course, such as caring for a spouse’s infirmities, but I don’t have much to say about such matters since my coupled days are behind me.
While my life mate/soul mate was dying, I seldom talked privately and never publicly about his decline or the problems it caused me — that truly would have felt like a betrayal, as if I were exposing him or as if I were talking about matters that did not belong to me. To cope, I simply drew within and continued to live as best as I could. His death catapulted me out of that state, ena
bling me to launch my angst-ridden cry into cyberspace. I’m not sure he would have approved of my being so open about my feelings, but by then, he no longer had a say in my life. Besides, my grief belonged to me alone.
I doubt I will ever feel that intense loyalty again, which is good. I no longer want or am able to live in the empty spaces in my soul.
Last night I blogged out my frustration with my father’s panic attack and the mindlessly mean way he acted. It enabled me to sleep peacefully (well, sort of) last night and wake up encouraged enough to go on.
The time is coming, perhaps soon, when my father can no longer be allowed to have his way about staying alone when I am out of the house, but despite the minor emergency last night, I’m inclined to let things remain as they are awhile longer. He is terrified of losing control, and he is someone who has always had to have steely control — of himself, his family, his surroundings. (You’d think I’d take delight in this gradual erosion of his control, considering how domineering he was in my youth, but I find no joy in watching his decline.)
Still, disloyal or not, I will need to continue blogging about my problems as life and death persist with their game of tug of war. It’s a matter of my survival.
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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, andDaughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.
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September 20, 2014 at 8:09 pm
I so totally agree how necessary it is to blog about your situation. I blogged about the difficulties of caring for my husband during his long illness. I didn’t feel at all bad about it. And I continue to blog about my grief and I am postitive Richard would encourage me in doing whatever helps me with this pain. I can totally understand where your dad is coming from being a bit of a control freak myself. It must be horrible to spend 90+ years being in control and then feel it slipping away.
September 21, 2014 at 2:52 am
There have been times in my life when I have had to blog for my own survival, too. Sometimes just to survive the dark night of the soul. Not one to write in diaries in my youth (embarrassed by the one time I did keep one), I also find that I privatize certain posts after I’ve moved on from the feeling. But that is just me. I admire your candidness and I understand some of the discomfort that comes with it. These days (in my new songwriting phase of life), I’m putting most of my feelings into my lyrics and blog about some of the songs that touch me the most. I’m more comfortable with expression through lyrics.
September 21, 2014 at 4:34 pm
I probably wouldn’t blog about the situation here so much if I hadn’t decided to blog every day. I sometimes think of stopping, but it’s the only writing I do, and it forms a focus for my days.
Expressing through lyrics is good! It’s wonderful you can do it.
September 21, 2014 at 2:03 pm
I might suggest two things. Firstly, talk with the Dr. and tell him about it. Ask him for some kind of drug that would ease your father’s fears. Work the medication into his food somehow so he doesn’t have a hissy fit. Secondly, flatly tell him “no.” Bring someone in to stay with him. That will ease your mind. I tried something similar to this with Mom (but on a different topic). She ranted and raved and screamed for three months, but it finally stopped. Hoping it might do the same for you. Blessings. Deb
September 21, 2014 at 4:31 pm
Actually, he is already taking some sort of anti-anxiety medication, and I do have an emergency stash of a different one. Thanks for reminding me. Normally, he is as relaxed as can be, it’s just that when something goes wrong, he panics. Luckily, I keep things running smoothly most of the time.