Life Cycle recap

I’m a little embarrassed by the responses to yesterday’s post about R and me.  I really and truly didn’t write that so people would think, “Wow, she’s so nice to be there for him.”  I absolutely appreciate those sentiments but I guess what I wish I’d conveyed was ………

I rely on humor to get me through the tough times because even though I couldn’t laugh out loud, my epiphany helped me feel an expansion and lightness within that carried me though the rest of the visit and

it’s relatively (pun intended) easy to stand by someone you’re not related to because there isn’t all that emotional baggage from years and years of miscommunication and hurt feelings, and

if you’re looking for a hero in all this I’d nominate R’s new neighbors who were there when I arrived yesterday; a young woman with her two bright and funny toddlers playing on the other hospital bed (because while Zebu and Wildebeest are happy to deliver groceries or shovel R’s sidewalk, there’s no way they’d agree to visiting him in the hospital and no way I’d ask them to do that), and

even though R had a really bad day yesterday he was calm and relaxed on Tuesday, and I coaxed the ghost of a smile from him.

So the bottom line is that right now he’s clean and safe, and people are keeping an eye on him.  Thank you for all the good wishes you’re sending R’s way. 

Here’s wishing everyone a wonderful weekend.

                     

17 thoughts on “Life Cycle recap

  1. You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you are humble–also admirable!
    Your fabulousness is not in comparison to anyone elses.. we know your heart. So it stands… you are my hero!

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    • You’re too kind, Sarah. And you know what? You’re my hero for raising three kids and being involved in their lives and doing all that FUN stuff with them! Really.

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  2. I’m sorry to hear that R is facing some tough times. I liked hearing about how you coaxed the ghost of a smile from him though. And you’re right, humour can be so important. I think most of us, when we’re backed into a corner, can sound like a teenager at times. It’s hard not to have all the options you want. And sometimes it just feels damn good to “throw a wobbler” as they say in Ireland.
    Take care, Tracy.

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    • Throw a wobbler. I like that! You’re right about that being the best and only option sometimes. Whenever I can see R’s tiny smile it makes me happy, which is one of the reasons I try to get another on his face.
      I didn’t get a chance to write back regarding Billy Bragg but WOW! He has your book! I think you’re very courageous to do that and I bow down to you, Brave C.K.!

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      • I return your bow, noble, Tracy. And wow I was nervous, like ORANGE alert nervous. I think I was speaking in English but at least twice my normal rate. Can’t believe I actually did that!

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      • I think I know what you mean about not being entirely certain which language you’re speaking; you can hear the sounds but aren’t sure what they mean.
        Congrats again!

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  3. I’m sorry to hear that R is facing some tough times. I liked hearing about how you coaxed the ghost of a smile from him though. And you’re right, humour can be so important. I think most of us, when we’re backed into a corner, can sound like a teenager at times. It’s hard not to have all the options you want. And sometimes it just feels damn good to “throw a wobbler” as they say in Ireland.

    Take care, Tracy.

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  4. Throw a wobbler. I like that! You’re right about that being the best and only option sometimes. Whenever I can see R’s tiny smile it makes me happy, which is one of the reasons I try to get another on his face.

    I didn’t get a chance to write back regarding Billy Bragg but WOW! He has your book! I think you’re very courageous to do that and I bow down to you, Brave C.K.!

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  5. I think I know what you mean about not being entirely certain which language you’re speaking; you can hear the sounds but aren’t sure what they mean.

    Congrats again!

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  6. Hey, Tracy. I read your post the day you wrote it and, as my brain is very dense these days, I didn’t respond because I knew I didn’t get what you were trying to say. I left the post up on my computer so that after pondering it while running errands, I would have something thoughtful to say. But I ran out of time, we went away for the weekend – NOT to a funeral, thank goodness! – and finally, I have a response.
    When we enter a new phase of life, a good one or not-so-good, we kick and scream and fight the “purpose” of that phase, be it independence, puberty, first love, inability to walk, pre-death. Just when we settle down and get quiet we are suddenly jolted to the next new phase and we kick and scream again.
    Am I close to understanding your meaning?
    And I do know you’re not one to fish for compliments or admiration, but I think the world of you.
    I hope R keeps getting better.

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    • Hi Jennifer!
      It’s funny that you weren’t quite sure what I was trying to convey in that post because I’m not entirely sure of the intent, either. I know I wanted to convey how funny the whole situation is on a certain level. It took me a while to write what I wrote but even after I posted it, I wasn’t satisfied. Your interpretation is at least partially true about getting jolted onto the next phase. Mostly I think it seemed so ridiculous to me that we can go through so many years on the planet yet end up expressing ourselves in the same, unsophisticated manner that we use as young children and teens. But I’ll also confess I was thinking “arrested development” in terms of R’s method of coping because it seems to me he hasn’t made a whole lot of progress in certain areas of his life. Not a whole lot of self-awareness. But that’s just an assessment from cranky, old me after listening to his ongoing complaints.
      Thank you so much for your kind words for me and the good thoughts for R, Jennifer. They mean a lot.

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  7. Hey, Tracy. I read your post the day you wrote it and, as my brain is very dense these days, I didn’t respond because I knew I didn’t get what you were trying to say. I left the post up on my computer so that after pondering it while running errands, I would have something thoughtful to say. But I ran out of time, we went away for the weekend – NOT to a funeral, thank goodness! – and finally, I have a response.

    When we enter a new phase of life, a good one or not-so-good, we kick and scream and fight the “purpose” of that phase, be it independence, puberty, first love, inability to walk, pre-death. Just when we settle down and get quiet we are suddenly jolted to the next new phase and we kick and scream again.

    Am I close to understanding your meaning?

    And I do know you’re not one to fish for compliments or admiration, but I think the world of you.

    I hope R keeps getting better.

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  8. Hi Jennifer!

    It’s funny that you weren’t quite sure what I was trying to convey in that post because I’m not entirely sure of the intent, either. I know I wanted to convey how funny the whole situation is on a certain level. It took me a while to write what I wrote but even after I posted it, I wasn’t satisfied. Your interpretation is at least partially true about getting jolted onto the next phase. Mostly I think it seemed so ridiculous to me that we can go through so many years on the planet yet end up expressing ourselves in the same, unsophisticated manner that we use as young children and teens. But I’ll also confess I was thinking “arrested development” in terms of R’s method of coping because it seems to me he hasn’t made a whole lot of progress in certain areas of his life. Not a whole lot of self-awareness. But that’s just an assessment from cranky, old me after listening to his ongoing complaints.

    Thank you so much for your kind words for me and the good thoughts for R, Jennifer. They mean a lot.

    Like

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