It's Hard Being The Same Age As Old People

I know, I know . . .

The past two years have been unavoidably exhausting, physically and  emotionally. So much so that I have neglected this blog. The blog is mostly for me to "think out loud" but I know one or two of you are still looking in on it.

Christmas passed as usual, with me spending too much money on the kids and grandkids. I realized, as I toted up the numbers, that although I love to give gifts, I'm frustrated that I didn't get any. I hope  that doesn't sound too selfish, but really? Four kids, three grandkids and my own family, and nothing? 

Next year, I'm going to cut back. I honestly don't mind making gifts like hat and scarves, but spending more money on anything except yarn, yeah, I'm done with that. 

I love my kids and grandkids. I'm happy to buy things for them, but I don't have to feel guilty if I can't or won't spend excessively just because it's Christmas.

And now for something completely different

I've finally gotten approval for knee replacement surgery. It's happening in March and I know this sounds terrible, but I'm absolutely looking forward to having a couple of months recovery time not being at work.

By the time I'm back at work, I will only have about a year before I can retire for good, something I'm very much looking forward to. I'd retire yesterday if I thought I could get Social Security and Medicare. I hope the convicted felon in the White House doesn't fuck that up for me. There's no way I can work until I'm 67, my mental health won't allow it.

You see, my body is betraying me more quickly than I anticipated. Once the knee surgery is done, I'm going to ask the doctor to look at my hip. And the longer I work outside my home, the worse my mental and emotional health is affected. Let's not forget the issues I've had since my colon surgery in 2022, something that has been and always will be not even as fun as it sounds. Also, my eyes are giving out on me and I'm going deaf in my left ear. 

So being the same age as old people sucks in a lot of ways. I'll get new glasses before I come back to work after the knee surgery, but that will only help a bit. The rest of it is the degradation of growing old and I just need to accept it. 

I was asked by a doctor if I was going to do anything fun this year. My response was that I was going to have knee surgery and get to stay home for a couple of months. He was confused - he said that wasn't really fun. I told him I'd rather be home than out and about, and that once the knee heals I'll probably go to a Giants game with my daughters. He didn't get it.

Have I mentioned I want to retire? 

God is Good all the time, and He's even watching over this tired little old lady. The troubles of today are fleeting and I need to remind myself that if something isn't eternally relevant, I don't have to dwell on it. Jobs end, knee pain ends, glasses can be bought - my soul lives forever, and I'm confident in God's love for me. 

I'll be okay.

Life and Death and Life Again

The death of my mother two days before Christmas has left me with much to say but no real way to say it. I meant what I said when I said I wasn't going to grieve much when she went. It was time for her to go and we knew it was coming.

Still, the circumstances contrived to make it just that much more ... I don't know. Stupid is the wrong word but I can't really think of a different one. It was a Saturday and I was getting ready to blog about how it was exactly four years ago that day that David died. And then my sister called.

And I couldn't write one single word.

Two days later at Christmas dinner, the consensus among my brothers and me was that we were surprised she didn't die on Christmas Day, therefore ruining one last Christmas for us. She used to do that, pull some dramatic trick just to make sure no one was happy on the happiest day of the year. She used to have the Christmas tree down and all the decorations put away by noon, too.

You're shocked, I know. In some ways, it was a great relief to know she was finally gone, finally unable to affect us negatively in person. Unfortunately, her legacy is that she negatively affects us even in death, by the way she raised us and how we had to deal with her nonsense over the years.

Now we have no parents. My dad died 11 years ago January, and frankly, while not a perfect father in any sense, I miss him more than I'll ever miss my mother. 

But dealing with the death of my mother isn't a good thing. In my head, or rather, in other people's heads, I'm supposed to be heart-broken at the loss of a parent and apparently unable to be happy ever again. 

At least, that's what one church lady was telling me. This church lady is sweet and sincere. I didn't have the heart to tell her how relieved I was I never had to deal with my mother again. 

Here's my mother's legacy to me: I was the birth control pill she forgot one morning. I was going to be fat just like her when I got older. She pitied the man I married. When I got pregnant with my oldest, she wanted to know why I did that to her. She wrote a scathing letter before my wedding, telling me how awful I was and that I was only getting married to have a father for my child. And then she showed up at the wedding.

Yeah.

And the ultimate legacy, she passed down her mental illness to me. Not just to me, to all of us. We have all dealt with it as best as we could, hopefully better than she did. 

Here's the thing, though: I have no doubt in my mind that she's with the Lord. Despite her emotional abuse, her attitude of victimhood, her absolute certainty that nothing was ever her fault; she loved God. And He loved her.

Just as He loves me. 

I just wish I could remember some of the good things and describe them here.