Today I am up early. I woke up early, and despite needing to rest, I could not get back to sleep. So, I got up. And here I am. Thinking about Thanksgiving and the lessons I’ve learned from the whole experience. It’s just experience, after all.
Thankfully, the mechanic came through, yesterday. Woot. They finished up the repairs to the disabled van yesterday afternoon, and now we’re good to go for the return trip home. I don’t have to renegotiate my vacation plans with work. I don’t have to explain an unfortunate adventure to my parents, and shift the times when we were planning to see aging relatives. I don’t have to calm down my spouse over every little thing that comes along. They can relax, now.
Well, supposedly. On this trip, they have been on edge for much of the time. Their cognitive impairment and behavioral problems are really standing out, their anxiety really running the show.They’ve yelled and cried and harangued and exaggerated and done a very poor imitation of someone who is 100% functional.
And their side of the family, ironically, are the ones who are having the most trouble dealing with their behavior. My side of the family practically oozes compassion for the needy and marginalized, and my spouse is acting very much “out of bounds” of respectable behavior. With my parents, my spouse’s difference are not as pronounced and extreme. But at my in-laws’ place, their behavioral issues really stand out. And it frustrates and angers them.
I don’t think my spouse’s family realize that there’s some cognitive impairment going on, and I’m not comfortable telling them, because they just don’t handle that stuff well. They’re very mainstream — different from my parents — and they don’t have a lot of diversity where they live. People who are cognitively impaired are “retarded”… or deserving of pity, rather than respect. There’s a lot of superstition here around the brain, which just makes things harder. Plus, they have very aggressive, mainstream ways of dealing with things — basically, take a pill, have a drink, follow along with what everyone else is doing, and don’t question too closely how things are done. If a pill or a drink won’t fix things, they sometimes believe a gun will. And they don’t have a lot of patience for all the gray areas that surround brain injury and cognitive impairment. Plus, they do not know anything about my spouse’s cognitive issues. We’ve never told them, and I doubt I ever will. Unless I have to. They just aren’t much help, when it comes to that stuff.
Maybe they would be, if I told them and they learned, but I just don’t have the patience or the fortitude to manage their adjustment along with everything else.
So, it’s a multi-source challenge, coming here. First, I have to deal with my spouse. And then I have to deal with my in-laws. And I have also had to deal with the broken-down van, negotiating social situations where I cannot understand what people are saying to me — because of their accent, and also their pacing. I’m not hearing clearly. And I’m tired. I’m slowed down, and it makes me nuts.
All the while… I do my best to keep calm. I hold firm and don’t let my head run away with me. It’s not easy. And it’s not verbal. When I’m pressed to use words, everything gets scrambled up, and I get angry. Enraged in passing moments. Because when everything is hitting the fan, and I’m pressed to verbalize, the solutions I can see in my head start to dissolve. And I lose my way.
I hate losing my way. Especially when things are tough.
But of course… It could have been worse.
The van repairs could have cost me three times as much — essentially draining my bank account.
The work could have take three days, instead of the better part of one day.
The one repair could have created even more problems that rendered the vehicle undriveable.
And all the while, my spouse could have had a nervous breakdown, as they have done several times in the past, while visiting this area, so full of unresolved issues, so full of pain and excruciating family memories.
But none of that happened. And now I don’t have to carry that with me, anymore.
Of course, the residue is still there. I am tired out, worn out, wrung out. I’ve been tired ever since the start of this trip… but I’m not sleeping well. Oh, the pain. Holy crap – if I don’t move regularly throughout the days, I am in so much pain. And people here don’t move. They sit in front of televisions. They sit in their cars. They sit in front of computers. They don’t move around, except to move from one seat to another. And my left hip and back are killing me. Plus, the mattress… Good lord.
I’m dizzy and slowed down, with a reaction time about half of what it usually is. I’m not hearing very well, but I am extremely sensitive to noise. It’s like I’m walking around in a bubble of static, floating 6 inches above the earth in a jittery envelope of electro-charged plasma. Light sensitivity is less of a problem for me, right now, but the whole spoken word thing is a real challenge. And when I stop talking, everybody gets nervous. Because that’s how they allay their fears — by talking. And I’m not doing that.
Also, when I get quiet, they seem to think I’m going to blow up. Because in this family, the signal that someone is going to fly off the handle, is when they get very, very quiet and don’t say more than a few words at a time.
I’ll get some relief today when we drive back to my family, but that’s not much solace. My side of the family are the polar opposite of this family here — in constant motion, constantly thinking, constantly interacting, no television, just a lot of heady talk. Most of it about God.
Oh, great pain and suffering… great wailing and gnashing of teeth!
Then again… Ha. I just have to laugh. It’s kind of ridiculous, this whole thing, and what I really need is to keep my sense of humor about me…. And get myself out of my foggy head.
Good Lord. Everything gets so heavy, here. And when we leave, I’m sure the tongues will wag about all the things that are wrong with both me and my spouse. It’s recreational, the fault-finding and judgment. It makes people feel better about themselves and their lives. So, in that respect, it serves a purpose. For them, anyway.
It really has nothing to do with me. My life will go on, regardless of what others think and say. They’ve been talking about me — and my spouse — and both of us together — for as long as we’ve been together, and that has never kept me from living my life. Not one bit
Am I rambling? I feel as though I am. The sun is rising over the mountains to the east, and I’m completely out of it. But life goes on. I know to be careful. I know to take my time. I haven’t felt this bad in a long time, so that’s something to be grateful for.
There’s a lot to be grateful for. And in the end, it’s really just a matter of where you put your attention — on the good, or on the bad. Bad will always happen. It can’t help BUT happen. If nothing else, I’ve got a hell of a story to tell.