The rain has finally stopped and the blue skies are filled with cartoon exhaust clouds. My son’s friends are all happily yelling at the video game they are playing.
The smell of chili and banana bread permeate the house. Am trying to squelch the pain of my SI joint which has returned with Ibuprofen. And I’m trying to figure how best to continue engage in the impossible task of getting my Mother out of her house.
It keeps coming back to this. I wake in the morning and wonder what is the next best thing. I want to get her to where I can be nearby when inevitable disaster happens. I want to remove her from the hell she has created for herself. Of course, it’s the allure to save her. The same allure that had me dating and marrying my first husband. Dangerous booby trapped terrain that can never truly be traversed.
Just like back in the beginning of the Coronavirus lockdown, my self-care has slipped. I haven’t exercised in a while. My writing time is non-existent. I finally dyed my white hair roots and felt immensely better. How do all of life’s details fall on the shoulders of the womenfolk? But in the shadow of seeing the state of my mom’s house, I’m even more hyper aware of the mess in my own home.
All I can do, as I’ve been saying, is to do the next right thing. Prioritize myself. Sorry that you feel that way but I need to do this for me. Stay connected to my communities and schedule some creative time.
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And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.
