December 12,2010

December 12, 2010

It was awfully quiet out in the living room/ kitchen, so I started out there to see what dad was up to, if everything was OK (does this sound like role reversal or what?!). I can hear Frank Sinatra singing in the background, as he’s been listening to the All Frank station on his XM radio for the last few hours. (Which is SO much better than the blare of the TV.) That’s something that my dad and I both like - music from the 40‘s and 50‘s.

In the hall, before I got to the kitchen, I could see the walker first, then dad. He was dancing in his walker. He didn’t see me, and I ducked back, catching his reflection in the glass doors across from me in the living room. I stood there, watching him, mesmerized, feeling all the hostility, frustration, and anger that I have been feeling these last few weeks just melt, being replaced with such a tenderness and awe for him, with a glimpse into the young man that he was at one time (and clearly, in some way, still is), that I went back into my room and cried.

The past several weeks have been really trying. For some reason, I just could not stand to be around my dad, hated being in his house, and couldn’t get out of my own way for all of the rage, injustice, resentment, you Name it, that I was feeling. I tried praying my way through it, exercising, writing, meditating my through it, and temporarily, it all helped. But the underlying feeling was still there, and it has, in the last few days, reared its vicious, ugly head, and sent me spiraling downward with blinding speed and intensity. Nothing I told myself seemed to help, my faith in a higher power was shaky, and I was turning all the rage to myself. YIKES!!!!! At that point, I just decided to go with it, jump on the bandwagon, and give myself and all the powers that Be a good lashing out, reading of the riot act. Astonishingly, IT HELPED! I started feeling a lot better, and the throbbing in my head began to ease.


Rather than go back to the house (I was in my car going from point A to point B at this cathartic juncture!), I got a hotel room in town, took what I had with me, and “checked myself in” for the night. It took me a few hours to come back to a normal heart rate and level of awareness. All I could do for the first hour was just lie on the bed in a stupor and cry. It dawned on me then that I was REALLY tired
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After coming to, I watched an episode of The Office, the tail end of a couple of movies, and half of a cartoon, then finally pulled out my notebook and started writing. Whatever came. Some of it seemed relevant, some just junk and gibberish. Some of it made me laugh, some of it made me cry, some of it made me wonder where it was coming from! Wrote, ate, konked out. G’nite.

Having the (next) morning to myself with no noise of any kind and a place to just be alone was powerful. Man! I have missed that so much!!!!!!!!!!! I used it to the fullest. Ate, walked, meditated, wrote some more, cried, stretched, worked on the computer, and got my thoughts organized. Before I left the hotel at noon, my whole demeanor, outlook, heart rate, self compassion, and hopefulness had changed dramatically. A few minor miracles happened before I even checked out; miracles that I know were a sign from all Those that I had yelled at vehemently the day before, charging them with abandonment and feigned support! I think that they needed to know I’m serious about making life better and loving, as much as I needed to know that they were there to help me with that goal! It’s all so mysterious and magical sometimes, I wonder if I just create these wound-up scenarios to test them (and me). If that’s the case, then once again, They (and I!) pass, as I am reminded of how much I am loved, supported, and protected by some power much bigger and compassionate (not to mention creative and abundant!) than my ego. And for that, I am grateful.

As I am for my dancing 86-year-old dad.