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Post by WindSister on Dec 27, 2017 11:07:07 GMT -5
I forgot about this quote by Pema and I feel it is one I must always remember. Been a good year since I read it and my Dory Mind needs constant reminders.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2017 23:08:50 GMT -5
WindSister, thanks for all of this. I love your writing. I burried a woman much like the one you describe two years ago. She wasn't an alcoholic when we were kids, but she sure became one for the 9 years between my dad dying and her passing. She was also a clinical pharmacist, so I believe she self-medicated like crazy, maybe as far back as when we were kids. My brother and I were golden boys, so for Mom, we walked on water. We also both moved far away upon graduating from high school. My poor sister -- the youngest -- took the brunt of the nastiness. She also moved away, but eventually moved back after she married. Folks used to ask me why I was my mother's primary care provider from 300 miles away when my sister lived in her city. The ones that knew mom didn't ask that. I was asking a friend the other day if proper preparation now at our ages (mid-50s) could prevent us from turning into these bitter monsters or foolish boneheads in 20 years when were in our 70s. I've read some books regarding aging and end of life decisions. And studied some about compression of morbidity. But I wonder. I've come to the conclusion that there are a few things we CAN do. And there were elements of that generation that were predisposed to this special brand of monkey business. My mother was brilliant and we'll educated. Musically very tallented -- a real 60s beatnik. But she was totally philosophically and theologically lazy. But way too arrogant to even consider that it mattered. And I'm convinced that with my mother, the evil was always there. It was normally well concealed with a thin veneer of decorum. But sharp edges came out every once in a while. And I saw it in my maternal grandmother as well. But in her 60s and 70s, without the buffering hope and leadership provided by my father, it just all came out. Sometimes, I just assumed she was possessed. Thanks for sharing.
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Post by M2G on Dec 31, 2017 10:36:35 GMT -5
WindSister , thanks for all of this. I love your writing. I burried a woman much like the one you describe two years ago. She wasn't an alcoholic when we were kids, but she sure became one for the 9 years between my dad dying and her passing. She was also a clinical pharmacist, so I believe she self-medicated like crazy, maybe as far back as when we were kids. My brother and I were golden boys, so for Mom, we walked on water. We also both moved far away upon graduating from high school. My poor sister -- the youngest -- took the brunt of the nastiness. She also moved away, but eventually moved back after she married. Folks used to ask me why I was my mother's primary care provider from 300 miles away when my sister lived in her city. The ones that knew mom didn't ask that. I was asking a friend the other day if proper preparation now at our ages (mid-50s) could prevent us from turning into these bitter monsters or foolish boneheads in 20 years when were in our 70s. I've read some books regarding aging and end of life decisions. And studied some about compression of morbidity. But I wonder. I've come to the conclusion that there are a few things we CAN do. And there were elements of that generation that were predisposed to this special brand of monkey business. My mother was brilliant and we'll educated. Musically very tallented -- a real 60s beatnik. But she was totally philosophically and theologically lazy. But way too arrogant to even consider that it mattered. And I'm convinced that with my mother, the evil was always there. It was normally well concealed with a thin veneer of decorum. But sharp edges came out every once in a while. And I saw it in my maternal grandmother as well. But in her 60s and 70s, without the buffering hope and leadership provided by my father, it just all came out. Sometimes, I just assumed she was possessed. Thanks for sharing. What I've noticed too, is that these personality disorders (for lack of a better catch-all) seem to rear their ugly heads more and more as the person grows older. My W's adopted mother went wild. While de-hoarding her house after she passed away, My W found a "Tickle me Elmo" doll that "mother" bitched & screamed she had to have it & W got the thing for her. It was laying in a pile of junk, voice-box ripped out and a screwdriver shoved up it's "rectum." W imagined she was using the thing like a perverse voodoo doll. A truly twisted woman if ever I'd encountered one. Other hand, my Grandmother - one of the most clearheaded, compassionate people I've ever known, seemed to get more and more kind as the years passed, drunk or no, right up to the very end. Likewise her husband. Guess it's best to relish the good people in life and, where it's possible - cut ties with the poison. |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2017 15:40:02 GMT -5
What I've noticed too, is that these personality disorders (for lack of a better catch-all) seem to rear their ugly heads more and more as the person grows older. My W's adopted mother went wild. While de-hoarding her house after she passed away, My W found a "Tickle me Elmo" doll that "mother" bitched & screamed she had to have it & W got the thing for her. It was laying in a pile of junk, voice-box ripped out and a screwdriver shoved up it's "rectum." W imagined she was using the thing like a perverse voodoo doll. A truly twisted woman if ever I'd encountered one. Other hand, my Grandmother - one of the most clearheaded, compassionate people I've ever known, seemed to get more and more kind as the years passed, drunk or no, right up to the very end. Likewise her husband. Guess it's best to relish the good people in life and, where it's possible - cut ties with the poison. Yup. My last job during my high school years was as an orderly in a nursing home. The residents (inmates?) were mostly extremely polarized. Sweet and very loving, or diabolical. When I say "Sweet", I mean as a 18 year old jerk of a boy, I would sit with them and just listen to them tell me stories and give me advice. I remember an old Italian man (Pacifico Nardi -- I even recall his name), telling me that the world is such a beautiful place, and he'd miss it if he weren't going to be with his Savior. And when I say "Diabolical", I mean an old woman hissing at the nurse's aid next to me "You Cock Sucker" while she tried to clean her up. I cannot remember this woman's name, but I recall thinking she must have been quite a looker in her day. All her "kids" (apparently in their 40s and 50s at that time) were extremely well preserved and attractive, even to a 17/18 year old. Following one of her satanic sprees (always directed at the women -- nurses and aids -- never at one of us orderlies), one of her daughters mentioned "I have no idea what has gotten into mom. She was never like this". I was skeptical. My theory is that under stress or when inhibitions are reduced (due to age, senility, sickness, drugs or alcohol, or whatever can reduce inhibitions), the "TRUE" person comes out. Nasty people become Nasty Drunks. Pleasant people become Happy Drunks. An asshole will get really assholish under stress or in their senility. People always go back to what they know best. What they are. So, when I hear someone apologize after a tirade where they've hurt or insulted folks, and say "That wasn't me, I was only 'Venting'.", I throw up the BS flag. Whats inside of us is what comes out. If filth is coming out, there is filth inside. |
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