Rant

I just need to rant for a second. This is one of the reasons I started this blog. I needed a place I could do what my therapist calls "emotional vomiting"; throwing up all your emotions with no focus on processing. It's not super healthy -- but at least here, it's not damaging either. And sometimes -- I just need them out of my head!!!!!!!

My brother called this morning, we'll call him Jake, that's not his real name, but for anonymity sake, we'll call him Jake. My mom always calls me the Relief Society President of the family, and this brother is the Bishop. Poor guy. I'd take RS President any day of the week over bishop. He called last week sobbing because of his latest episode with my mom. As I've been pulling away, she has relied more and more on him to get her emotional needs met. Today, though, he just called to check in. :)

We were catching up on the happenings of our lives and he asked about my trip to California. Two weeks ago I went to California to visit my grandparents and take a much needed vacation. My mom came in for the weekend to visit her parents as well.  While there, my mom had an argument with her dad (my grandpa). I watched the whole thing, but didn't participate at all. My brother, Jake, told me that mom was really upset about the argument and has been crying about it ever since she got home.  Interesting.  I told him what I witnessed.

Grandma is very ill and grandpa is providing all of her care. The man goes as far as dying and styling my grandma's hair to keep her happy and feeling good about herself. That is love in my opinion. He told me the story about how he went to the "beauty salon" and paid the woman to show him how to dye and style grandma's hair. Serious dedication.  Back to the point.... my grandmother is very ill. She has emphysema and has difficulty breathing. My mom was asking about oxygen and why grandma isn't on oxygen. Apparently, according to grandpa, the doctors say it won't help her and she refused to used the CPAP machine at night because of the pressure on her face. My mom got a bit upset with grandpa, saying things like "You have to force her to use it if it will make her better," and "sometimes we have to do things we don't like to do if it will make us well." Her tone of voice was a little inappropriate and accusing in my opinion. Grandpa got understandably upset and shot back in accusations as well. "You think I'm not taking care of her? Who sits here all day with her and does what needs to be done. I'm doing everything the doctor says, is that not enough?"  Things along those lines. I think he had a right to be upset, but he definitely escalated the situation. She was making accusations about something she has no real knowledge of. It made me mad. She started crying, as she always does in those situations, but continued the accusations ending with "Do you want me to quit my job and move down here and take care of her? Is that what you want? Is that what you need?" Grandpa said - "Fine. Move in." She cried more and retreated upstairs to the guest room. 

Now, normally I would have intervened here. I would have been the rescuer and tried to make peace between the parties. I would have went to my mom and taken her side and entered the drama triangle and fix the whole thing. I've been doing that for years. But this time, I didn't move. I just sat there. It wasn't my argument, it wasn't my fight, I didn't need to be involved. And for one of the first times in my life, I looked at the situation and realized, my mom is wrong.

As I explained this to Jake, I could tell he was becoming more and more agitated. When I finished he was downright angry! Jake is a Fire-Medic. He has spent the last 15 years on a Fire-Medic team, specializing in life preservation and recovery.  "Oxygen will kill her", he says. He explains that people with severe respiratory issues including severe asthma, emphysema and a few other things I don't remember, don't breathe for the same reason healthy people breath, because they need oxygen. They have enough oxygen. They breathe to get rid of the CO2 in their body. The problem isn't with getting enough in - it's with getting enough out. Flooding their system with oxygen will only make it harder for them to breathe because they already can't dispel the CO2 they have in their system. This is one of the reasons you see people with panic attacks or asthma breathing into a paper bag. It's not oxygen they need, they actually need less oxygen, hence the paper bag, more CO2 and less oxygen. Interesting. I didn't know that.

Then he sets in with "How dare she!" and went off about the issues he is having with mom and her butting into everyone's business and thinking she knows better than everyone else. He has some pent up anger there.  We had a good discussion. My brother is more emotionally healthy than I have realized before. I am very grateful for that knowledge. He also told me he would fully support me divorcing my sister -- LOL -- even though it meant he would have to start worrying about her again.

I think what has really set me off about the situation is my dad. For the last 8 weeks of my dad's life, I sat by his side day and night. I carried him when he couldn't walk. I changed his diaper. I fed him, dressed him, showered him, gave him his meds, listened to him talk, did his Physical Therapy exercises with him and pushed him around in the wheel chair. I designed the blog he wanted to tell his story, I read him the comments day after day after day. And yet, through all of it, my mom made me feel like I wasn't doing enough or at least I wasn't doing the right things. She always thought she knew better. When I suggested things or explained what the doctor had said, she would always correct me. She wasn't even there when the doctor was there!  How the hell would she know?  I did all of this while working full-time, cleaning the house, putting dinner on the table every night, attending weekly ARP meetings, doing individual therapy by phone (saved my life) AND managed to maintain my longest period of sobriety through the entire thing! When I reflect on that experience I have no regrets. It is what I needed to do to make peace with my dad. When he died, for the first time in my life I had no anger towards him. None. Of the 10 months from diagnosis to death, I spent nearly 6 of those months by his side, day after day. I did it for me. I did it because I needed to do it. But during that whole time, my mom always made me feel like I wasn't doing enough or that she knew better. I have some resentment and anger about that.

Yet - even as I sit here and write - the anger doesn't stay active for very long. I feel bad for my mom. The world is a lonely place when you think you know better than everyone else. I know, because I lived in that space for a very, very long time. Sad.

Ok - Done with the rant and back to my day.  I will not do the co-dependent thing and dwell on this all day and think of ways to help my mom get the help she needs but refuses. I will respect her choice to handle things on her own and know that I can choose differently.