Complicated grief is NOT about a bad marriage or not getting a super job to have a big house and 3 cars etc.
Doing this weeks exercise listening to the 3rd audio tape, learning to say what I see, not editorialize around the point and avoid discussing the issues at hand (sound familiar? some times we ourselves dont do it, but other family members may do this to avoid confrontations with us because our 'tape' plays the same circular thinking over and over)--
I've spent a lifetime trying to do what my father taught me, your word is your bond-what you say you must do-of course most of his life was not lived that way, with the alcoholism, isolation from his own family, betrayals by my mother; he grieved over so many things and spent the last few years of his life grieving over the percipice he saw his daughters standing on and he had no way to pull us off the edge and to safety.
Even as a child, his torment was so palpable I felt it and aligned my life with his. At times I hated him for tormenting my beautiful mother until realizing he was reacting to her unacceptable behavior-and in the face of his very real threats to kill lovers, hang them by their ankles out windows or to shoot my mother, most responses met his threats with a shrug...a weakened old man, threatening to kill a man half his age to keep a woman he had no right to anyway, sad if not so funny.
So he was betrayed and then insulted for defending what was his, a wife he paid for by a settlement giving all he had earned to his first wife. No matter where he turned there was no one on his side, no family to support him or straighten his young wife out.
Listening to the tape each day, much like peeling an onion, I can hear points that come out at me. And this week involved viewing the death certificate
My 4th audio tape consists of standing in the doorway of the bedroom where my father lay dead and describing exactly what I see. We did this 3 times, and while the event details were the same, each telling revealed more forgotten visuals.
We agreed coincidentally(we both had the idea separately!) that a daily walk to a specific location would be helpful-I have agoraphobia and its become worse lately...hmm. I usually cannot leave the house without a specific goal, be it market, laundry, I'm not one to wander. Reading Kazin's A Walker in the City was breathtaking for me, something unimaginable.
However, here its safe and friendly and so rich with places, museums, libraries I dont want to lose such a chance to take advantage of these things-they're right near me. In NY everything meant subway travel, staircases. Its still hard to walk for long periods, but I have to both walk and get out of the house without feeling like there's a gun to my back (held by me to get me outside). So therapist had a printout of local library, how to get there and instructions to come back with a library card!
I was asked what my 'aspirational goal' would be...this is something I've not mentioned before. This is a goal that is only something for me, that enriches my life, is something I've wanted but never could do for whatever reason.
I never thought to tell anyone this, but I've always wanted to learn to play the cello. I cant imagine dragging a cello case now since I can barely drag myself about, but maybe a smaller stringed instrument would be possible. I took one cello lesson as a child, but since i was already studying piano and expected to go a serious music academy, old Russian piano teacher banned string instruments. I haven't had a piano in 40 years...I dont even think these old floors could hold a small upright...but that would really be something, to be able to play piano again...G-d I'm getting teary. I love classical music and studied for so long, but under so much nastiness by my mother and tension from my father tapping like a metronome when I practiced.
Mr. B has to see the vet next week. In the meantime he's regressed to kittenhood and bringing toys to my bed. I find them when I wake in the morning, once a ribbon that he loves, another time a spongy ball...and all thee head butts...he's a happy camper for now.
B2 has been pouting because the oat grass doesnt sprout fast enough for him to nibble like a little goat. But his stomach is half the size it was before all this roughage. He also likes "Greenies".
Mr. B doesnt touch any of this stuff.
p.s. Got my new library card, reading a bio on Kafka and the 1930s. They have audio books, all I need supply is a head set and AAA battery!! Asked daughter to print out cello application...decided as much as I would prefer a piano the hassle of getting one in this tiny apt getting it out if moving becomes necessary, just isnt worth it.
Doing this weeks exercise listening to the 3rd audio tape, learning to say what I see, not editorialize around the point and avoid discussing the issues at hand (sound familiar? some times we ourselves dont do it, but other family members may do this to avoid confrontations with us because our 'tape' plays the same circular thinking over and over)--
I've spent a lifetime trying to do what my father taught me, your word is your bond-what you say you must do-of course most of his life was not lived that way, with the alcoholism, isolation from his own family, betrayals by my mother; he grieved over so many things and spent the last few years of his life grieving over the percipice he saw his daughters standing on and he had no way to pull us off the edge and to safety.
Even as a child, his torment was so palpable I felt it and aligned my life with his. At times I hated him for tormenting my beautiful mother until realizing he was reacting to her unacceptable behavior-and in the face of his very real threats to kill lovers, hang them by their ankles out windows or to shoot my mother, most responses met his threats with a shrug...a weakened old man, threatening to kill a man half his age to keep a woman he had no right to anyway, sad if not so funny.
So he was betrayed and then insulted for defending what was his, a wife he paid for by a settlement giving all he had earned to his first wife. No matter where he turned there was no one on his side, no family to support him or straighten his young wife out.
Listening to the tape each day, much like peeling an onion, I can hear points that come out at me. And this week involved viewing the death certificate
My 4th audio tape consists of standing in the doorway of the bedroom where my father lay dead and describing exactly what I see. We did this 3 times, and while the event details were the same, each telling revealed more forgotten visuals.
We agreed coincidentally(we both had the idea separately!) that a daily walk to a specific location would be helpful-I have agoraphobia and its become worse lately...hmm. I usually cannot leave the house without a specific goal, be it market, laundry, I'm not one to wander. Reading Kazin's A Walker in the City was breathtaking for me, something unimaginable.
However, here its safe and friendly and so rich with places, museums, libraries I dont want to lose such a chance to take advantage of these things-they're right near me. In NY everything meant subway travel, staircases. Its still hard to walk for long periods, but I have to both walk and get out of the house without feeling like there's a gun to my back (held by me to get me outside). So therapist had a printout of local library, how to get there and instructions to come back with a library card!
I was asked what my 'aspirational goal' would be...this is something I've not mentioned before. This is a goal that is only something for me, that enriches my life, is something I've wanted but never could do for whatever reason.
I never thought to tell anyone this, but I've always wanted to learn to play the cello. I cant imagine dragging a cello case now since I can barely drag myself about, but maybe a smaller stringed instrument would be possible. I took one cello lesson as a child, but since i was already studying piano and expected to go a serious music academy, old Russian piano teacher banned string instruments. I haven't had a piano in 40 years...I dont even think these old floors could hold a small upright...but that would really be something, to be able to play piano again...G-d I'm getting teary. I love classical music and studied for so long, but under so much nastiness by my mother and tension from my father tapping like a metronome when I practiced.
Mr. B has to see the vet next week. In the meantime he's regressed to kittenhood and bringing toys to my bed. I find them when I wake in the morning, once a ribbon that he loves, another time a spongy ball...and all thee head butts...he's a happy camper for now.
B2 has been pouting because the oat grass doesnt sprout fast enough for him to nibble like a little goat. But his stomach is half the size it was before all this roughage. He also likes "Greenies".
Mr. B doesnt touch any of this stuff.
p.s. Got my new library card, reading a bio on Kafka and the 1930s. They have audio books, all I need supply is a head set and AAA battery!! Asked daughter to print out cello application...decided as much as I would prefer a piano the hassle of getting one in this tiny apt getting it out if moving becomes necessary, just isnt worth it.
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