Seems I've forgotten, in some ways, how to find pleasure. Four years of intense care for my mom. Leaves a mark. Lots of rough edges. Doesn't heal but with intense and consistent work.
Self-care. Handling myself gently. Turning away from shame. Guilt be gone.
Always easier said than done. Second-guessing how we raised our children. Afraid of repeating mistakes. Practicing forgiveness. A tough one for long-standing issues.
In my heart I think I'll feel a degree of peace when my mom is moved into a permanent nursing home situation. As it stands today, she will leave her current rehab next weekend. Rehash. I've already shared that. My brothers aren't forthcoming unless I ask directly. My husband says to avoid asking. Be content with not knowing. Maybe they're sparing us? Deep inside I have a fear of them asking us to take her again short-term. Is that's what's rankling me? The answer is no, even without a viable alternative. No.
Don't care for surprises. Appreciate knowing what's going on. Find security in awareness. But have to accept the not knowing.
Oldest brother forwarded an email from the VA with questions to fill out for our mom to possibly receive benefits. Once that's done, might feel a bit of a mental purge. She's an ever-present irritant, without her even realizing it.
It's the silent treatment all over again. No communication from her. I should be rejoicing. Nothing from my brothers. Must find a degree of solace in silence. Lack of communication tends to resonate to me as equaling punishment or disappointment. Or being thought of as a lunatic. All may be true.
Today is beautiful and hot. Garden waning. Drying out in spots. Neglected. A physical representation of my mental state. Time to cull and weed. Dig out what's spent or unwanted.
God's world always tends to be a metaphor. So many layers.