the day after.

man, yesterday was so lame.
one good thing happened - or, didn't happen.
mom didn't die on my birthday.
the day before yesterday, i wished at 11:11 that mom wouldn't die on my birthday, and my wish came true.
i was thankful for that.
otherwise, the day was almost totally crappy.
even when things are terrible, me and lu and tab are able to have fun with each other.
snot streaming out of our noses, scared from the tussle with allen, we're able to laugh at the 'holy crap, that just happened'-ness of the situation.
that's very, very valuable.
my dad came up yesterday and stayed the night in a hotel in town.
my uncle is staying for the rest of the week.
daddy came in today and did an amazing feat of counseling prowess, mediating a conversation between allen, me, lu and tab.
allen got a little bit snappy with my dad at a certain point, after saying something particularly irksome and allen-ish, and i freaked a little bit and had to utilize our newly agreed upon 'time out' system. i went into the driveway and screamed a little bit, bitched to my aunt ginny, and then came in.
i am unable to enter into a new period of openness and supportive lovingness with allen, having been burnt too many times. every blow up we've had, every time he's been an unforgivable asshole, i've tried to put my past resentment behind me and move forward fresh, letting go of the previous negativity. obviously that's hard to do completely, but i have been really good about being conscious even of the way i think about allen, holding the space for us to connect and for him to be the highest version of himself.
and every time i have gotten kicked in the crotch for my trouble.
i had to admit in the talk that i was having a very hard time letting go of what happened yesterday, and wasn't feeling very hopeful about us progressing past civility.
that's a change for me, because i have always harbored dreams of me and allen forging a really special bond. it sounds silly when i put it out there like that, but it's true. it's always been very hard for me to accept that me and my mom's life-mate/partner don't really like each other very much. i got to a point where i admitted that it was unlikely, and that i didn't really need to like him that much. i was old enough by that point for it to not be such a big deal. but i never really let go of the dream.
he and i have had some rocky times since december, but have been doing pretty well since i moved up here almost full time, so this new blow up was a grievous wound to my faith.
i've never been in a situation like this. it's given me a peek into what it might be like to be in an abusive relationship.
i love him for the care he's giving my mom. i love him for how happy he made her, and for helping her realize her dream up here in The Valley.
i pity him for his loneliness, and his total out-of-stepness with the rest of the world. he's one of the most socially stunted people i've ever come across. he has almost no friends. my mom was the only person who understood him and loved him for who he is (which is a very complex bundle) and he's losing her. his future is entirely dependent on my generosity, as i am the legal owner of the house and could be an asshole and kick him out at any moment, if i so desired. (which i have been disinclined to do, out of respect for my mom's wishes, but which i have been dangerously toying with in my head during this period of unrest. oh, how sweet to be free of him forever...) he can barely hear, and has compensated for his poor hearing with what he believes to be heightened perceptive abilities, but which is actually heightened paranoia, rendering him borderline delusional. if he's talking to me, and i roll my eyes, because i have an eyelash in there, or, wriggle my nose, because i have a boogie, it is not out of the realm of possibility that he will decide that i am making fun of him, or trying to 'fuck with his head.' it will not usually occur to him that i have a purely legitimate, not even vaguely sinister motive. that is the idea that he will have, and he will run with it.
it makes communicating with him unimaginably tricky. who the fuck knows how he hears stuff or perceives it? how can i avoid misinterpretation when he is looking for reasons to believe that i am out to get him?
tough.
so then, we add in a very healthy amount of fear and resentment into the spicy goulash of emotions i have. he is so unpredictable, and so prone to unexpectedly violent outbursts, that it makes me afraid to even talk to him sometimes. i ask him a benign question, and am met with this unforeseen firestorm of hate, suspicion, judgment, etc. he barely apologizes, he says terrible things when he's angry, and he defends himself about it after the fact by acting really blase about the whole thing. like, 'oh, did i tell you to get fucked in the hospital, the day after your mom had had brain surgery? oh. well, i was just upset.' as if everything that's said in the heat of the moment melts away in the mind of the hearer once the speaker's emotion has passed. i had to explain to him that when he calls me a 'fucking bitch' when he's mad, that doesn't go away for me. that, even when he's being nice, or i am not mad at him, i can't help but remember that he called me that. it doesn't go away just because he said it in the heat of the moment and didn't really mean it.
duh. if you don't mean it, don't say it. why is that hard?
so, i find myself really afraid of him. me and lu and tab were sitting on the front porch, talking, in the afternoon after the fight, and i heard his stomping footsteps into the kitchen, and felt my stomach clench, from fear. i initially wasn't going to tell anyone about me and him grappling, because i didn't want them to go crazy and try to kill him. i find myself making excuses for his atrocious behavior (oh, he's like a little kid. he can't help it. or he doesn't mean it. he just gets crazy when he's mad.)
i got really freaked out by those responses, feeling like he was my abusive husband. i walk on eggshells, afraid of upsetting him, trying to 'manage' him, and just give him chance after chance to treat me like crap.
finally, my resentment over having to deal with his crap while my mom is dying. when i would like to be focusing on my emotions over my mom's imminent death, i am having to handle allen with kid gloves. we spent all yesterday, and most of today, dealing with him being a whack-job. what that fuck? we're not here to make sure allen is coping okay. it's allen's fault that allen hasn't got a support system. i am not sending my support system home to make him feel more comfortable. i am not going to give him permission to crap all over me and my friends, because he's lonely and doesn't have anyone to talk to about his feelings. maybe if he was less of a jerk, we'd be more likely to reach out and talk to him about how he's doing. as it is, i'm terrified of asking how he's feeling and having my skin flayed off my face for, like, putting the washcloths back in the wrong place.
so, that time is over.
i'm not saying 'fuck him forever,' but i'm also not trying to do anything except the bare minimum of getting along.
how many times do i have to burn my hand before i just accept, that pot is too hot to hold. whether it's burning me on purpose or not, my shit is crispy now and i am done reaching for it.
so, we'll have mediators to help some.
daddy, uncle keith and mom's friend, cassandra, are going to be go-betweens, to talk to if things get tense.
we only need to maintain our civility in this manner until mom passes, which the nurses say will be days. i'll deal with my relationship with him, post-mom's death, when we get there.
so, overall, a VERY uncomfortable birthday.
at least i had my ladies and my dad here. at least mom didn't die.
yesterday, i told her that it was my birthday. she widened her eyes, putting her mouth into an 'o' shape. i told her how, at the hour, 29 years before, she and i had only just met. we barely knew each other.
she doesn't respond to everything that you say, but when she does, it's really special.
i'm really tired, from the trauma yesterday and the talking today. i'm exhausted. i slept a lot las night, but i felt anxious all night. i woke up this morning because i felt so nervous, probably partly about mom's well-being (i keep waiting to hear allen shouting for me, and having to run in because mom is dead) and partly about allen.
i am tired of worrying about him.
i am ready to go back to worrying about myself.
or, rather, not worrying at all. just taking care of myself.