Tuesday, April 04, 2017

Drowning and the Lottery

I tend to steer away from writing about other people I'm close to - in particular my husband - simply because he's not a fan of having his world laid open for everyone to see. No matter what else is wrong with me, I've got to have an outlet and for me, that's what this blog is, right or wrong.  I also try to steer away from talking too deeply about my adoptive mother, Sandy. A lot of time, I refer to her as Gammy because it's less invasive, I think, to her privacy.  Needless to say, sometimes it cannot, or maybe, more accurately, should not be avoided.

I've spent a lot of time lately trying to unbury myself from years of depression and anxiety and, while it's really only been a few weeks, I could tell I was on an upswing. I was starting to feel better, a little, I think. I honestly don't know because I'm not sure I really know what feeling better feels like. (Gosh, what an awful sentence! You understood that, right?)

Anyway - I am trying very hard not to immediately dive into the negative and trying to focus on the positive. But by golly, it seems something is always trying to knock me down! Has my strength not been tested enough already? Except, that I just do what I always do - like the saying/song goes - I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I keep going. I do it anyway. Because honestly, it's worse if I don't push forward. It's what I do.

People say, "You've got to take time for you!" or "If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else!" or "Make sure you get some rest!" - and they're all well-meaning. But quite frankly I don't have time for me right now. I've got time for kids, and hubby, and house, and work, and church, and Sandy and everything all of those things include, like school stuff and homework, art night. Church plays, Sunday school, Puppets. Cat litter, daily feedings, vet visits, flea meds, brushing, love, attention, what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-that-Q-tip? Scouting events, merit badges. Cookies, cookies, cookies. Do laundry - pile after pile. Make sure kids stay clean and healthy. Talk about stuff that's important. Make sure I continue to get a paycheck by doing what they pay me to do, which is no small feat in itself.

My ability to find room for one more thing on a regular, daily basis is basically nil. I'm already up to my eyeballs and then some, breathing through a thin reed, and praying I don't drown.

So, when Sandy had yet another health scare this past weekend I just felt so...frustrated! With her (not that it was her fault), with the situation (not that it could have been helped), with me (because I feel like I'm not doing enough), with the fact that I can't find a way to help her (because...lots of reasons), with everything! As difficult of a relationship as she and I sometimes have, she basically saved my life and I will do anything - anything - to reciprocate.

Therefore, I am now consumed by trying to solve this problem. Because that's what it is, a problem. Clearly she cannot live on her own anymore, but she's not ready for a nursing home and cannot afford assisted living. Which means, at the very least, she'd need to move in with me and my family. And as we currently are, that is an impossibility.

Basically, I need to win the lottery. Just a couple million dollars; I'm not asking for much. Then I could fix up and pay off the house we're in, and buy something suitable for us and Sandy. See? I just solved the problem.

Right then! For the next six weeks, I expect to see lottery tickets in my mail box every time I look there.

I know. I know. Not gonna happen.

But a seriously frustrated person can dream, can they not?

Wish me luck.


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