You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I was commenting at bg's little sis's blog a few days ago, I found myself writing this:

I need to work on not feeling like a victim of my own life and focus on the many good things that are going on amongst the bad.

I actually feel like I do a decent job of focusing on the good stuff. But I have a confession to make: sometimes I'm living an Al-Anon slogan and totally doing the "fake it 'til you make it" routine.

The past few weeks have been one of those times.

I have been feeling like a victim of my own life. I started the year off sick. GH's cancer treatments weren't going well. I was taking my fear about that out on him. I have been behind at work, due to my own unwillingness to focus. The babies have colds. Riley has been getting teeth and not sleeping well. I have been doing the lion's share of housework and baby care while GH has been feeling under the weather. I am behind on personal projects. My mother-in-law is visiting for two weeks, which is a stressor for me. I have been generally crabby. I have just felt tired and lonely and scared and, well, depressed.

I have lots I want to blog about--a job interview, Maddie's physical therapy, my mother-in-law's visit, Peace Corps, Al-Anon, cancer. But rather than do any serious blogging, I've needed to spend some time thinking about how I can feel better mentally.

I don't have any magic bullet answers. I've thought a lot about what Al-Anon can offer me, and what I keep coming back to is that I am the one who needs to change. I need to adjust my attitude. I can't change people and I can't (for the most part) change circumstances. I can only change me.

I feel a lot of resentment about that. I don't want to change! I carry so much weight already. Why am I always the one who has to do all the work? At the same time, I know it's true that I have to be open to the idea that, with so many other things out of my control, I need to focus on what is in my control: myself. I need to remember that I don't have to do this on my own. I can ask for help from friends, family, and professionals. I can keep blogging, because the act of writing helps me see things more clearly and the community keeps me supported.

I felt a kind of epiphany about this as I drove home from work tonight. I had a great conversation with my father, an alcoholic with 15+ years of sobriety under his belt and a lot of program wisdom to share. When I got home, I tried to be more aware of my actions and my reactions. It was hard, but I was able not to snap at my mother-in-law over every little thing she does that drives me nuts. I was able to give my tired, treatment-weary husband a hug rather than harping on him about all the work I had to do today and how hard my life is. I was able to just be in the moment while playing with Maddie and Riley. It wasn't perfect and it's hard work, but it does work.

I'm sick of the fear, I'm sick of feeling blue. I'm ready to work on it. Or at least try.

Happy Birthday, Mom

It's my mom's 63rd birthday today. I can't believe my mom is 63. I can't believe that I'm 34. I can't believe that the twins are five months. Crazy.

My mom and I have a great relationship. Every day I spend living so far away from her (and my stepdad and my dad) makes me long more and more to move back to Oregon. Someday. It's not in the cards for me right now, but someday. Especially now that the twins are here, being away from Mom is very, very difficult. Not only do I miss her emotional support, her optimism, her amazing way with babies, her practicality, and her cooking (among other things), but I just wish that she could be a daily part of Maddie and Riley's lives. I want them to know her. I want their faces to light up when they see her. I want them to feel the love she has for them more frequently than a few times a year. I make a point of talking about her a lot, but it's not the same as having her here to hold them and say "I love you" herself.

My mom's relationship with her mom was rocky. My maternal grandmother was a difficult woman. She was an alcoholic, an agoraphobiac, and a bitter, sad person who saw her young son get run over by a milk truck. She didn't like my dad, and actually said "I told you so" when my mom and dad divorced. Because she didn't like my dad, she didn't care much for me, either. When she sent the grandkids money for birthdays or Christmas, I always got $5 less than everyone else. I was always rather glad that she lived far away from us, in Kansas, so we didn't see her very often.

I know that my mom wanted her relationship with me to be different than her relationship with her own mother. And in many ways it is. And I know she wants to have a very different grandmother relationship with my kids than I did with her mother. And she will. It will be more loving for sure. I just wish it could be more frequent.

Someday I'll write more about my mom and my grandmother and about all of the adult child of an alcoholic behaviors I learned from my mom, the child of two alcoholics herself. My mom didn't have an easy childhood, despite living a financially priviliged life in an idyllic American suburb. But she is one of the strongest, most loving people I know today. The older I get, the more I appreciate what she did for me when I was younger and how hard she worked to give me the emotional stability and loving environment that she didn't get when she was growing up.

This year, when my stepdad and I asked my mom what she wanted for her birthday, her reply was, "All I want is a trip to Boston to see the twins." And so that's what she got. She'll be here next Thursday for a five-day visit.

I can't wait.

Love you, Mooti. Happy 63rd.