Sunday, July 10, 2016

Tough Day

 Tough day. 

I woke up without a headache and we went out to breakfast. That wasn't bad.  We had good rides to and from, and our return trip driver was one of those "coexist" guys.  Interesting. 

I didn't witness to him, mainly because I didn't know where to start, and also because he was very old, and driving at the time.  "We are all one" sounds really good until you die, and discover, to your horror, that hell really exists and no one has ever earned their way to heaven. 

Salvation is a gift, one you only get when you're alive.  Remember that. 

Anyway, I came home, totally depressed (maybe the gluten in my pancakes), and took a nap for a couple of hours.  Torbie joined me at one point. 

I have had more cat activity in my bed since I started sleeping with the fleece blanket gravy used to love.  There's something about cats and blankets.  They love blankets.  My gang really love this cheap fleece blanket.  Who am I to argue? 

I woke up, even more depressed, and did my God Time.  I also did some computer work and then decided it would be a good idea to do something active outside. 

I have a bay tree, in a pot, which was wilted.  I went out and watered it, then trimmed some overhanging branches on the ash tree.  It has big limbs and little "whips" that grow off the limbs.  The whips hang down, sort of like a weeping willow.  They were hitting vehicles in the driveway. As a result, the paratransit vehicles won't pull in like they used to, and the branches smack us in the face. 

I asked Ron to help but he was drinking.  So I went out and did it by myself. 

A little ways into it, he came out to help.  All he did was complain. 

He has gotten a lot more feeble lately, he can't stand up, or, apparently, walk a couple of steps unassisted.  I told him he needs to see a neurologist about his back (preferably before he ends up paralyzed).  I spent more time moving him a few steps here and there than I did doing the actual work. 

If that's his best, and he's seen a professional and they can't help, I have to be OK with that.  But it is very hard for me because I feel 1.  He is abusing himself terribly and 2.  He is refusing to see any medical professionals. 

I did get him to agree to eat more protein, and we got some takeout for him that should help.  But he won't do anything else.  He's just - rotting. 

That's a horrible thing to watch even if I didn't love him. 

I sent him back in the house and finished the rest of the work on my own.  When I came in he was very derogatory and insulting, then switched to "Oh, you're the best, I am so lucky to have you" back to derogatory name calling, then I'm the best again.  It would make me nuts if I was receiving any of it.

I just kind of thought "Yeah-yeah" and didn't hear it.  He was drunk.  Drunk talk is never nice. 

One thing I found pitiful: he kept going on about my family of origin, how he was so much better than them, etc.  I couldn't help but think he is exponentially worse

I remember one time when I was about 14.  My Dad's company had a family picnic at the water park.  Each of us kids could bring a guest.  I brought my boyfriend at the time, a nice guy named Eric. 

We had a good time at the park, but the sun was hot. They also had free beer for the adults.  My Dad got thirsty from all the sun, drank a lot of beer, and got drunk. 

I remember my shame and mortification when Eric told me my Dad was drunk.  That was the first time I had ever seen Dad drunk. 

Can you imagine the memories my kids would have, if I'd had them?  Eric, by the way, last I heard was a captain in the Air Force and doing quite well for himself.  I am very happy for him. 

John, my other high school boyfriend, just kind of magnified his inner child and is a far-leftie.  Last I heard John works food service. 

So Ron's pretty squarely between the two from a breadwinner standpoint. 

He didn't c- I was going to say he didn't call me names today, but he did.  Alcohol just makes him an awful person. 

I can see why bars have so many fights. 

No wonder I'm so depressed. 


Anonymous said...

My dad is "rotting" too.
I know never to call him after 6 because all he does is argue.
Look up alcoholic dementia.

Anonymous said...

You have to wonder how the devil a supposedly created being by god could sin in the first place. And if the devil can sin in heaven, then I guess that anyone in heaven would be able to sin also. Ask your pastor about that.

Spankadoo Hardcastle said...

It is a huge relief to know you " dont receive" it and know those words are nothing but the rot coming out. He needs to find compassion for himself. Would it be sad if whatever is keeping him down is something there could be help for. I feel your pain many huge hugs!

Good news about the van

Several years ago, #6 bought a 13 passenger van.  Now, the mother drives a minivan and the father drivers a pickup truck.  They occupied the...