I’m Too Old For This

Ok so I live with my daughter (who is a hoarder) and my 9 year old grandson (who is a hoarder in training).  They moved in with me when I left my soon to be divorced husband who wouldn’t move out or take them in and who was threatening violence over the incident of the skunk in the yard.  I smelled a skunk but apparently his nose had shut down because he couldn’t smell it so he let the barking dog out because it’s always a good idea to let a barking dog out when a skunk is around.  Anyway he let the dog out and I smelled the skunk and asked why he let the dog out when it was in the yard and he said there was no skunk and only then did I realize why he could never tell when I was making dinner.  He couldn’t smell it.  So I shut the patio door and he came storming into the house and said that if I shut that door he was going to take it off its hinges!  He stormed back out and I shut the door – the smell of skunk was still heavy in the air.  He came storming back into the house and went into the garage to get a tool to take the door off the hinges.  I told him I was going to call the police if he did that and he said he could do a lot of damage (to me) before the police got there and I asked him if he thought that was a good idea considering we were going to court soon.  He left and I closed the door.

Apparently he loved drama or he would have just gone about his business and let me close the door.

That was over 7 years ago and at the same time my daughter had bigger problems.  She had a 2 year-old and her husband OD’d on prescription drugs – took them one day and died the next.  They were from the doctor and were for pain and he took them and died right on the couch with the little guy jumping on daddy and her sitting in the chair watching him.  She called me, hysterical, and that’s when the whole thing started.  I was 61 years-old and too old for this but I left my home under the threat of violence and moved into a big house that would hold the 3 of us and a yard for the little guy to play in and all hell broke loose from the moment I made that decision to have them move in with me.  They say having children around keeps you young.  I say that having children around keeps you from realizing how fast time is flying because all your attention is on them and before you know it you’re too old to do anything.

So here it is – 7 years later going on 8 and I am still saying “I’m too old for this” even though they’re still here and it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere anytime soon.  The now 9 year-old is threatening to become a surly teenager and I’m wondering how I’m going to handle THAT when I’m in my 70’s if he’s not out of the house and I have to live with that.  I keep telling Ian that I’m too old for his screaming and growling and mumbling like a lot of kids that are spoiled and ornery do when you think they may not be raised right but I know he has been cuz I’ve been around to see it.  His mom doesn’t let him be a brat and he and I generally have a pretty decent relationship so long as he isn’t a smart ass which he can be at times.

But it’s hard sometimes.  It truly is.  My patience wears thin and I think I can’t do it much longer and then I think if it wasn’t supposed to be this way then it would be different.  But there are times when all I can think is that – I’m too old for this. Comes a time when I won’t want to do it anymore and then things will change – I know.  I’m reaching that point even though my daughter thinks she can’t do it on her own.  But other moms have and she will too.  There’ll come a day when she’s gonna have to realize that her mom is just too old for this.

She has a problem when I bring home a date.  I say it’s her problem and not mine – this IS my house too!  She doesn’t bring dates home for good reason but her reasons are not mine.  Of course Ian is bright enough to know these dates aren’t sleeping in their cars and he starts asking questions to which I tell him it’s none of his business and he gets the look on his face that makes him seem older than he is.  What does he know about it?  When he’s sure about what dating is like he won’t ask those questions of his grandma.  And rightly so.  But I deserve a life and I’ll have it whether he’s here or not and it is still my house and if no one likes it that’s their problem not mine.  I’m too freaking old for this!!

 

 

Mirroring Abuse – Surviving Abusive Relationships

 

Life. It’s all about perception and attitude.  My attitude about a lot of things differs from others in that if something comes at you, deal with it and move on.  Much of it is karma so you’re best off if you become a “karma chameleon” and change with the colors that you’re confronted with.

I’ve been married twice.  When people ask why, instead of going into all the excuses of misery shared, I just tell them I like to change men once every 20 years or so to keep things interesting.

Wisdom comes with age and as you age you begin to realize many things about people and perceptions. I realized that I wasn’t the person that I was perceived to be. The perceptions about me didn’t match who I was so I didn’t feel I had to be directly responsible for giving in to what was expected of me by those doing the perceiving. I’m talking about living in abuse. A person’s distortions of perception manifest oftentimes as abuse. In making that break, I became the person I truly am and those people are no longer in my life. I lived for 20 years in abuse. I guess I’m an expert on it. I’d like to share just a little about how I handled it.

Throughout my fair existence on this beloved Earth I have learned how to manifest my desires and be at peace within myself. In my relationships, my marriages of which there were two, there were times when I faced violence by becoming the mirror and reflecting back what was directed toward me, successfully and peacefully. I mirrored back the pain and anger and turned it around each time. I didn’t re-Act to the person. Arguments, for me, are a waste of energy so I don’t participate. Instead I responded in a responsible way and was never harmed.

I’ll explain. My first marriage was turbulent to say the least. It started as a war zone – one trying to establish dominance when that person had no idea who he was – or that he was married to a free spirit. You can’t cage a free spirit in any way. He tried and failed miserably. I never saw that side of him til after the wedding vows. When I asked about the abrupt turn-about he said, “it’s because I’ve got you now.” Number one mistake was that he thought I would never file for divorce.  For me, courage comes from a deep resolve to not live a life you don’t choose. If a life you’re living is not one you choose to live, then change it. My idea of home was always happy and full of fun. To have it full of violence and arguments was not of my choosing. A home should be a sacred place where you feel safe and where you can retreat from what is happening on the outside.  Someone once said that courage is just the other side of fear. My fear of living in a violent home was stronger than my fear of dying. I’d rather die than live a life of fear.

I stood my ground when he threatened to hit me. He was much bigger than I was and I knew I’d never be able to beat him physically. All I had were words. So I told him if he were going to hit me that he’d better kill me, because if he didn’t I’d make him wish he had. That made him stop and think. When he stopped I used more words. I told him he liked to sleep too much and I was really good with a baseball bat. That made him think some more. Then I threatened his “stuff” like his motorcycle. I told him he wouldn’t recognize it if he let me get up after he hit me so he may as well kill me right now, this fucking minute.

I mirrored his violence back at him and he didn’t like it at all. He never did hit me. Not ever in the 20 years we were together. He used other means to try to tear me down – emotionally. It worked for awhile. He had me wondering in the beginning if it was me that was nuts. But somewhere into the early years I figured out that it wasn’t me at all. He would call me names and I even mirrored that back when I said to him, “well, if I’m all those things it sure doesn’t say much for your taste in women.” He stopped calling me names after that. Another time, after I was sick of listening to his foul language, I began talking like he talked. One day he looked at me and said, “That language sounds terrible coming from you!” I simply said, “If I have to listen to it motherfucker so do you!” After that he stopped swearing so much. I was getting pretty good at this mirroring thing. I responded without judgement toward him and I didn’t judge myself. It occurred to me that judgment is a waste of time and only weakens the spirit so why do it? Since I gave up judging myself and others life has been so much freer and better.

He walked a fine line between sanity and insanity and it wasn’t my cross to bear. I let him go early on but stayed because I never had the desire to start again. Until someone came along after awhile and showed me how good life could be.

I knew I’d never sacrifice my life or sanity to another man again. That was the gift given to me by my first marriage and I took that away with me and lived happily for awhile until my second husband did an about face when he stopped drinking. Alcohol was his curse. Or was it a lack of alcohol? I get confused. But that’s another story.