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Post by cflanders on May 30, 2006 10:34:05 GMT -5
I'm sorry to hear about your father ... seems when people are terminal they often become the best version of themselves! My father was literally soaking everything up in his last days.
Glad to hear from you again, what a dream that was! I'm guessing it has to do with your father, and feeling scared of his passing, of being without him.
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Post by creole on May 31, 2006 14:35:30 GMT -5
Got a call yesterday as I was leaving the office that Dad had taken a turn for the worse so I drove over to be with him. I called the house and left a message on the answering machine so that H would know what was going on. Dad's condition has really deteriorated since I saw him on Saturday. I massaged his scalp, his temples, his head and neck and also his hands and wrists. He did know me, but did not know others who were at the house, and during my visit he was confused and, at times, could hardly talk coherently. The the tumor is shutting down his essential body functions and he is now on morpine. . . . . I held his hands, talked with him, told him how grateful I was that he was my Daddy, and that he had shown us the way and how much I love him. He hugged me and kissed my eyelids and told me not to cry. . .that all would be ok, and that I'd be ok. I acknowledge that Daddy and I are both about to face another of life's transitions; for me, the loss of a parent, and for him, his passing from this time world and life. Another milestone, another opportunity. My tears are an honest declaration of the love I feel for my Dad and I am not ashamed for anyone to see them.
When I arrived home last night, H and his buddy had been playing in the studio. H was so stoned he could barely have a coherent conversation with me. I just looked at him and felt disgust, pure disgust. Hell, I couldn't even get angry at him. His friend and I were talking on the porch and H came out, excused himeslf and went to bed; T and I visited for another 15 minutes or so and then he left. I went in and H was snoring away. . .I couldn't crawl in that bed and sleep with him so I went to the couch and let my inner child grieve and cry as I remembered how I felt the first time that I really knew when someone close to me died. Yeah, H told me he was gonna be supportive of me, that he'd be there for me. I don't want a stoned SA SOB supporting me. Will try to "share" with him this pm, although I'm wondering why I even make the effort when all I get from him is deflection, projection and rationalizations. H told me that he wanted me to accept him as he is.. . .in my heart, I feel that I'm at the end of my rope, my patience, my tolerance. Last night, I felt so lonely. Married, but so alone. . . .
After I finish trying to explain to H how I feel about last night's behavior, I will be off to Dad's again and will be staying the night.
I am strong. . . .
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Post by creole on Jun 7, 2006 10:04:59 GMT -5
Today, at this moment, I am strong. My Dad went Home on Wednesday night. I don't know that I would have made it thru the last week without all the self-examination and work that I've done over the last year.
Such an outpouring of love which affirmed the kind of person my Dad really was. I wrote my Dad's obituary, my last tribute to a man who loved God, his family and his country. Dad had served in the Army during the Korean War and was injured at Inchon, Korea. For his service, he was awarded the Purple Heart and for that reason, military honors were performed at the cemetery. His funeral was an affirmation of Dad's life and his love of life, of family and friends, and his country as well as his strong faith. The hardest moment of all for me was sitting in front of his flag draped casket at the cemetery and hearing Taps. The finality. . . .
Our traditional family reunion is always scheduled for the first weekend in June; earlier this year, Daddy and one of his cousins and I had a long discussion about this year's reunion. My Dad was adamant that we not have it this year because our location was being used for church services when Dad's church burned in December; we discussed moving it to alternate locations but he wouldn't hear of it. Daddy went Home Wednesday night, and we had the most wonderful family reunion on Saturday when everyone was at his funeral. I know he was smiling!
Working as a probate paralegal for over 13 years had prepared me for the inevitable emotional disharmony which ensues after the death of a loved one. Although it was not terrible, my mother was most unhappy because of the fact that in the obituary, I had included my step-mother's children as my Dad's children. My parents divorced after 24 years of marriage and when Dad remarried, he considered S's children as his children; he and S had been married over 22 years and as a blended family, I felt they needed to be included as his children. Whoa, my mother and one of my brothers were extremely pissed at me about including them as his children. I did what my Dad would have wanted; I am at peace and I refused to buy that "guilt ticket". Oh well. . .it is done and it was done in the way that my Dad would have wanted. He accepted everyone, loved them, and shared his love for them.
I have my moments when tears come and I let them. My H was supportive, has been supportive, but as of now, I don't feel that old co-dep neediness, nor do I feel that I have to make everything right for someone else. I can show my compassion and love for others who are also grieving my father's death; I also accept the expressions of condolences, caring and love from my friends and others.
My Dad gave me so much. . .not material things, but the best things--a basic strong moral compass, a love of the beauty of nature, and respect and tolerance for others. He showed me the way. . .
Peace and blessings,
Creole
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Post by joyfulneurotic on Jun 7, 2006 10:11:08 GMT -5
Creole, you don't need me to tell you this, but you did the right thing, including the step children in his obituary. They were an integral part of his new family for years and will grieve as any other family member would. You honored your father and his commitment to that family. You honored them as well. I can't imagine how hurt they would have been if they hadn't been mentioned as family - as if remarriage and the new bonds were invalid.
I am so proud of you for doing that.
Take care of yourself, sweetie.
jn
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Post by C2M on Jun 7, 2006 18:11:34 GMT -5
Creole I am sorry to hear about your father, I lost mine recently too and being the eldest their is a lot of burden to perform for the mourners.
Peace and love.
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Post by creole on Jun 8, 2006 9:42:14 GMT -5
Thanks JN & Cry2me for your positive thoughts. They mean so much to me right now!
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Post by creole on Jun 8, 2006 9:48:46 GMT -5
Lyrics to an Enya song, which speaks to my heart:
Enya Pilgrim
Pilgrim, how you journey On the road you chose To find out why the winds die And where the stories go.
All days come from one day That much you must know, You cannot change what's over But only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds, One way leads to gold, Another leads you only To everything you're told.
In your heart you wonder Which of these is true; The road that leads to nowhere, The road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer In all you say and do? Will you find the answer In you?
Each heart is a pilgrim, Each one wants to know The reason why the winds die And where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey You may travel far, For pilgrim it's a long way To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way To find out who you are...
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Post by cflanders on Jun 8, 2006 10:44:19 GMT -5
Creole, this is just beautiful. It will bring you so much peace in the weeks/months/years to come to know you were there for your father, comforted him and that he comforted you also.
Enya music speaks to me too. The morning my father died I went for a drive in his car. It was a beautiful midwestern fall day and an Enya CD was playing. I'll never forget the whole experience of that day, the colors were vibrant and sensual - life goes on for those left behind.
Tough sh!t.
That brought tears to my eyes...memories of Friend L's (my now-landlady) H's military funeral...plus feeling your pain and loss.
How is H ... is he being more "present" for you?? Accepting him as he is? Stoned and indifferent? Wroooooooong!
Keep taking good care of you.
(((((((((((((( BIG HUGS ))))))))))))))
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Post by cflanders on Jun 22, 2006 16:46:07 GMT -5
Tap, tap, tap.
Where are you? How are you?
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Post by creole on Jun 23, 2006 10:05:55 GMT -5
Thanks for the "ping" Karen! Being on the road makes it difficult for me to get here but I find that its good that I not come to the Board so much; pretty much focus on journals. . .too much negativity, anger, incriminations and toxicity to be helpful to my recovery! Just my perspective.
Since my last post, I've had to deal with some difficult situations. My oldest daughter (the crack cocaine addict) was arrested for outstanding traffic tickets/warrents and deported to a correctional facility in an adjacent parish. She called me all hysterical, etc. but I told her that I couldn't do squat for her--I wasn't gonna post her bond, she would have to learn to deal with the consequences of bad decisions. Her reaction (you can truly imagine) was to cuss me a blue streak and hang up. Oh well. . . .subsequently, she phoned to let me know that she has a new cell phone with 1500 minutes, etc. My question is: how the hell is she gonna pay for that? I just had to let it go. . . .turned it over. Can't control her, can't control what she does, can't control anybody or anything but me.
Last Wednesday, I received a call from one of my dearest friends--her Dad lost his battle with colon cancer. She asked me to speak at his funeral, and I told her that I just didn't feel that I could do it. I phoned another mutual, close friend who drove in from another state and the two of us went to the funeral. I was afraid of how I would be, but I only lost it one time. . .when the minister read "Crossing the Bar". I'm glad I went though; we were the only two of her friends who were at the service. Such a difference from my father's service two weeks earlier.
That morning, my H woke up in the depression funk. He was rude, grouchy, slamming doors, etc. I just went on about my business and left his ass alone. Who wants to try to have a conversation with a selfish, pouty 55 year old child? Not me. . . .on Sunday, I had to pack up for a 4.5 hour drive to the town where I was scheduled to audit. He did tell me that he was confused, that he really wasn't sure about his sexuality, how to integrate healthy sexuality back into his life, that his ba##@ hurt, that he wanted me to go back to counseling. I told him that I couldn't help him with his questions about his sexuality--that was part of his recovery. As to his ba##@ hurting, he could either MB or not, but if he did, I wasn't gonna tolerate that. He said that his depression wasn't because he acted out; don't know if its true or not. At this point, I feel it really doesn't matter too much--either he's gonna move forward or he isn't. I told him that I had already planned to see the counselor but it didn't matter how much I recovered if he didn't make the same effort. Sigh, he still equates abstinence with recovery. He has made some improvements, but until he rips the scab off all the wounds in his heart and figures out what his triggers are and heals those wounds, he can't recover. Its kinda like going to church, and believing, but not practicing the Word.
I try to be the best Creole I can be each day; its easier to live in reality, name and address the fears, listen to my heart. In his journal, CV wrote a great description of recovery; I'm gonna go copy it and save it here, for reference. Thanks CV!
I try to find my own quiet time to breathe, listen to the sounds of birds, rain, crickets and tree frogs. We only live in this time world once. . .we must appreciate our time here.
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Post by creole on Jun 23, 2006 10:10:04 GMT -5
Quote from CV's journal regarding recovery: "I bet you think this song is about you. . . you're so vain! . . . A legend is only a lonely boy when he goes home alone."
Letting go is hard to do. Can you see that in recent posts here? Letting go of that need to be right, to defend ones Self, to have the last word. Can you see it? Can you feel the pain and the hurt, the rage and the darkest emotions swirling in the midst of all those letters on the screen?
We want recovery. Yet we are afraid to be vunerable even here in cyberspace. Why is that I wonder. Why can't we of all places be open here? Why this unquenched lust for getting the upper hand in arguements pro or con?
How does reading and posting here fit into my recovery? Well, it was on thise board and another that I first got to experience the feelings that my own wife would NOT or could NOT share with me. I was open to hearing and sensing those feelings and that is why here is where I learned to cry for my own sins.
That pain and those feelings of betrayal, disgust, loss of self-esteem that SOs shared ands still share, those things showed me, instructed me where I would otherwise have remained in the dark and ignorant of the feelings of my own gentle partner.
Because I was open, because I was willing to hear and then feel, my wife and I finally got to a place where we could talk together. God I am grateful for that!
It has not been easy, learning to let go. I see I am not alone and for some letting go may never happen. That is sad. How can I express how grateful I am for the gift of being open and vunerable--oh, not me though. No, it was the vunerability and openeness of the "old" SOs, many of whom are gone from here. They shared here what they may or may not have been able to with their partners. Some of them let go, some didn't. I love them all. How could it be otherwise?
There is NO safe place on these kinds of boards, there never was. Hell, one of addictions big components is the addict's need to feel safe. We try so hard to protect our inner addicts, make excuses, deny the truth, and all the while our other face tries to look for recovery.
I see you. I know who you are. I know what you are. I have looked into the mirror and you could not hide from me. There you are. I see you. God sees you. Blindness will only protect you for so long, eventually the truth will surface.
Will you look for recovery? Are you willing to work recovery?
Or will you be found out, publicky humilated, sent to jail, fired, lose your wife and children. DIE?
That's it isn't it? Recover or die!
A hero, a legend in your own time--just a lonely boy when you go home alone. (thanks Carly)
Screw sanity and normality. I want to be vunerable, I want to feel it, all of it, the pain, the joy, the hope and the dispair. I'm not going to go home alone.
Letting go--let it go people, just let it go!
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Post by creole on Jun 27, 2006 8:29:17 GMT -5
Quick update before I go on the road again. . . .one positive thing about my new job is the fact that I get my "space", my time to reflect and work on my recovery without the presence of my H. He also gets his "space". . . .
Lets call it like I see it: sex, drugs and rock 'n roll are his coping mechanisms. Yep, if we're upset, smoke a joint, play the guitar. Not that he is irresponsible, he isn't: he maintains his job responsibilities. But, I've seen a change in the last week since the last bout of depression. . .he's switched his "poison" from vodka to wine. Really a change. He's also become more withdrawn and insular; our daughter's MIL and her husband's uncle and aunt came to down on Saturday evening and we were invited to go eat with them. He declined to visit to stay at home and indulge in the weed. On Sunday, he arbirarily broke his recording time with his best friend which really upset him. His best friend phoned me to find out what was going on--I was clueless and could offer no explanation.
H tells me that he can't trust me. I asked him why and he told me that I continue to (expletive) at him about his smoking the joints; I asked him when that had happened and he told me that I did that on Friday night--I called him on it and he started stammering, stuttering, couldn't remember a date, etc. Its a bunch of BS--I probably SHOULD have (expletive)ed him out. I told him that since he didn't trust me, and that I couldn't trust him, it might be best for both of us is we just terminate the relationship, try to remain on civil speaking terms and be friends. He didn't say a word.
Feels REALLY wierd. Feels like I'm in a twilight zone and I am--gaslighting, justifying, rationalizing. I phoned the counselor yesterday and made an appointment for next week; due to our schedules, meeting with her this week is out. I told her that I need to touch base.
Don't know what will happen. . . .but I know that I am strong, that I can provide for myself. Let the poo hit the fan. . . .
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Post by findingjoy on Jun 27, 2006 8:39:29 GMT -5
Ah, Creole. Sorry you're still dealing with all that BS. It really sounds like he's falling apart in some ways. It must be hard to see him do that to himself and the relationship. The detachment you're showing is quite remarkable, though. You seem to be one of the least co-d people I know now. What an inspiration.
Thanks again for the window into your life.
fj
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Post by LookingUp on Jun 27, 2006 17:56:04 GMT -5
Creole,
I don't know if you could hear it from this distance - but I was shouting and cheering when I read of your strong boundaries and calling him on his BS about you b!tching about his joint smoking. Sheesh. I would have loved to have been a fly on your wall and watched him verbally backtrack.
You sound like you're in a very strong place right now. Strong enough to know when you need counseling; strong enough to know that you can make it on your own; strong enough to keep your boundaries firm and not let him get under your skin. You're an inspiration!
LookingUp
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Post by creole on Jun 29, 2006 9:24:53 GMT -5
The lyrics to a Gerry Rafferty song that I heard this am and it made me cry:
Wakin’ up here on a rainy day I swore last time that I would stay away I came down here to talk to you I said this time I might get through.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead We talked all night and left it all unsaid So we agree to disagree At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah) Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters Yeah, night and day, night and day.
You’ve got your secrets yeah and I’ve got mine We’ve played this game now for a long long time You don’t lean on anyone You never had no place to run.
You never wanted me to get too close We love and hate the ones we need the most I tried to find a way to you One thing I could say to you.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah) Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters Yeah, night and day, night and day.
Maybe I’ve always set my sights too high You take the easy way and still get by I know there ain’t no special way We all get there anyway.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead Talked all night and left it all unsaid So we agree to disagree At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah) Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters Yeah, night and day, night and day.
(fade) Yeah, Night and day and day Yeah, Night and day and day (whatever’s written in your heart)
****************************************************
Came home last night and H barely spoke to me. . .he has now downloaded PC anywhere (or a program like that) to our home computer and it continually kept asking me to confirm. . . .he told me that he did it so that his secretary, a favorite subject of his fantasy sexual essays, could help him upload music files to the website. Sounds rational huh? Then why did it keep asking me to confirm? It pisses me off that he'll give her access to our home computer and that ain't gonna happen. . .no. WTF he could moniter all sorts of stuff from his office. . . .she could also monitor from her home computer on the weekends. Maybe he's monitoring me? Trying not to be paranoid here, but I've done all I can to keep my journal here private and I'd prefer that he not see it, but if he does, so be it.
Cried and slept on the sofa last night after a 7 hour drive. He couldn't look me in the eyes this am. . .couldn't face me. He sent me an email and told me that he I needed to go see the counselor. . .that I needed more professional help right now to help me in my recovery. Hummm, taking my inventory now, is he? He's still functioning off the co-dep programming, telling me what I need to do makes him feel in control of the situation.
One of the goals of recovery is to learn to be alone. . .to find serenity in quiet and stillness, to not "need" to talk to someone, to find my own inner strength, to learn to listen to my intuition and to express my emotions.
Breathe deeply Creole. . . .let the emotions flow thru and then refocus. Lunch should be interesting. . . .
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