Undiagnosed Mental Health Issues

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I had no idea what kind of pictures would be shown to me when I plugged in Life Success into my browser but I love the above choice. To be perfectly honest, I have never hated anything about me! Fatter or thinner, I have remained the same person all my life. My elder sister (RIP) changed personalities depending on the number on the scale. It sounds bizarre but she admitted that to me a few years before her untimely death.

We were in a Wal-mart in Costa Rica. The perception of the typical Wal-Mart shopper in the U.S. has not translated to the Costa Rican standards. I hope I can explain what I mean. People in Costa Rica shop at Wal-mart mostly because the prices are better, the quality is not bad, the selection of products is superior and the employees are not different at Wal-Mart than they are in other similar (national) stores.

My sister and I sat to have some refreshments (shaved ice, I think). During the time we were there, my sister’s attention was on the other shoppers. I didn’t get upset. I had grown accustomed to being her driver and listener as she absorbed all the sights and sounds of the world she was just entering. It had always been that way. I don’t think she ever noticed that I nodded a lot when we were together, rarely making any comments or initiating a topic of conversation. My (hard) lessons about what I could and could not share with my sister spontaneously were constantly on my mind since the first time she betrayed a confidence as if it were of no importance. I would have enjoyed being closer to her but I just didn’t trust her with my intimate thoughts or the many aspects of my life that would have been fun to share otherwise.

At that time, my sister was dangerously obese. She shared stories of the times when she was fit enough to be a WW leader. She told me about lifting weights at the gym. She confessed that when she was thin, she felt compelled to judge others who were not “fit” and how she actually would be mean or make terrible faces of disgust. When she was heavy, she was kind and empathetic. I absorbed all this information silently, not really knowing what reply was appropriate. I had already been the recipient of her anger when I gently scolded her for humiliating a cashier who gave the wrong change. I did not look forward to any of her negative attention be thrown my way. When my sister died, we had been estranged for more than 3 years. I was not present and I only learned that she was sick a day or two before she passed.

It seems awful to admit but I was relieved when my sister passed away. Our mother had passed away 38 weeks before. It was something of a surprise when my sister died so soon after our mom but in a way it was fitting. She had always resented my birth because I took the focus off her and she never got over it. I have not been able to grieve my sister and that is disturbing to me. After all, for more than 60 years, we did share an existence on this earth that no one else has shared with me.

I recently remarked to my daughter about this fact. My daughter at 27 is more mature than I’ll ever be. She asked me to think about the positive qualities my sister possessed, assuring me that if I looked with a clean heart, I would surely find some. After some musing, I did come up with a few things: my sister was a spontaneous person and it was often surprising to me how much I enjoyed going out on the spur of the moment just to keep her from hounding me. I would not have partaken of many an opportunity to see a new show, or attend a gallery opening, or be the first on the block to try a new restaurant. I promised myself and my daughter that I would seek more examples. Perhaps time will allow me to grieve properly and to also be empathetic to the suffering she had because it should have been clear to me years ago that she was the victim of mental health issues that were never addressed.

Cooking with Gas!

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When I was a very young girl, the stove that was used to cook our food was electric. When we moved to New York, everything was gas. I never gave any of that a second thought for the 35 years that I lived in the states. When I returned to my birthplace, I didn’t even consider getting a gas stove because I had witnessed the “set-up” in my various relatives’ homes and they scared me silly.

It was like having a hot water “suicide” set up that various people I knew used instead of having a proper hot water heater somewhere in the house. I could not see myself cooking with gas because I didn’t really trust that it was safe. Many years have passed since we moved here and every once in a while, my husband will comment that we should change our stove to a gas stove because (honestly) he does most of the cooking and gas is much faster. I don’t commit because I am still on the fence about it.

My brother is a huge grill fan. He deserves praise for knowing how to cook just about anything on the grill and for taking care of dinner most nights. He really, really enjoys it. My husband can grill and would probably do it more often if we had a gas one, he said. My husband and my brother took a drive into the “city” and purchased a Weber grill that my brother is assembling as I write this blog. I commend them both. They had a plan, and now they are happily putting the final touches on our dinner menu. I love the fact that cooking is being taken care of and I have no responsibilities! Clean-up is easy too. I look forward to learning all about how to take care of the grill and perhaps also trying my hand at doing it. Not making any promises though since not cooking is one of my goals for this year!

Family Dynamics

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I received a request recently from a relative asking me questions about my grandmother. It is a good request. It is the kind of request that I am happy to be able to grant because in answering, I am also compiling information that I have not remembered or known myself. This is exactly the type of motivation that will make my writing an autobiography flow a little bit easier.

My older sister and I had a complicated relationship. I am just now getting to the point in my life where I can peel off the layers and layers of complications in order to examine and face the many nuances we (or I) chose not to delve into deeper when she was alive. My sister was an unusual person. Our immigrant experience, while shared, was met by each of us so differently that it is hard to believe we came from the same place and arrived at the same place (physically that is).

I felt exploited by my sister my entire life. Even now, three years after her death, I am unable to find support for my view of her from my other siblings. Family dynamics are complex. Each member comes with a particular set of qualities and traits. We land in the beginning, middle or end of a family unit. Depending on where we land and a multitude of other factors, our personality develops in different ways. We adapt or adopt a role within the family that allows us to grow and become independent or to stay and simply live out our days with purpose but often without much joy.

My other siblings had different experiences with her, with me and with each other. I used to joke that we were four only children in a single family. We shared a physical home, the same parents and pretty much the same experiences but to tell it today, you would never know it. I chose to maintain my ties to my homeland, becoming a citizen of the U.S. almost 25 years after arriving in NY. Mentally, I was always hoping to end my days in my homeland and I am here now at 65 with no plans to move again. I am happy for the extra time 2020’s Covid requirements forced upon us all in the sense that I have had more time available to sit and think deeply about subjects that never came up before. Connection to family is important and I am now seeing that even though one may not want to have intimate, frequent contact with family member, knowing where you come from is an important element to navigating who you are or want to become. I am glad for the chance.

Remind in 15 Minutes…

 

The world of the SciFi writer has always intimidated me. I don’t believe I have the kind of creative mind that can conjure up these special worlds, write complicated stories about them, configure plots that back my protagonists into corners and then rescue them. It just seems so hard. I have always wanted to write literary non-fiction, stories with meaning and purpose rather than just stories to entertain. And yet, so many people simply write for entertainment’s sake even when the stories they are telling scare us, disgust us or make us laugh. I suppose the purpose of creative writing is that it has no real purpose except what the author wants it to have, which is to either make money or engage the reader. Getting a reader to purchase your book, and read it hopefully in one sitting is certainly a challenge that not every author can rise to.

But actually that is not what I wanted to write about here, this blog is essentially created by me to externalize my frustrations with my body, with lifelong dieting and deprivation and with my complicated relationship with my now-deceased older sister. These days of Covid-19 have had me truly in a meditative state. That notwithstanding, however, last week I seemed to have averaged 9 hours per day on my telephone (which doubles as a computer, I might add) a 42% increase over the week prior to that. I know exactly how and why it happened and it scares me.

Last week, we saw many protests around the murder of George Floyd. Adding to that was speculation about the number of people who were expected to attend 45’s rally in Oklahoma. Then the surge in deaths and numbers of Covid-19 victims in certain states. Added to that is stress about my own circle’s health, employment, restrictions, etc. I do recall that Twitter would let me know that I had reached my 30 minute self-imposed daily limit and that I asked it to “remind me again in 15 minutes” several times per day. Then I would go on Instagram. I confess that most of the stories were not new to me on either feed because I do not follow that many people. In addition, it wasn’t extra time that I devoted to writing and that makes me feel bad.

I have a huge challenge in my office that I am trying to sort out. I also have plans for my garden which have not been materializing because I have not been able to get to the nursery when I thought I could. I need to hang in there, as I so often suggest to the people who I write to on my Sunday blog. But I have a hard time following my own advice.

For the moment, I need to concentrate on maintaining my rhythm with my WW program by focusing on one meal at a time. I need to do what I can in my office in 15-minute segments, much the way I ask Twitter and Instagram to remind me. But mostly I need to remember that this crisis will eventually pass and that I will be emotionally, spiritually and mentally stronger and hopefully a few pounds lighter.

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Wills and Trusts…

When I was a little girl, my mother talked to me often as if I were an adult. I didn’t always understand what she was talking about – adult subjects and language being so sophisticated and all – but I enjoyed having her focus on me so I just didn’t do anything to make her think I wasn’t interested. In the years that followed, I continued to be her confidante, sometimes a confusing and double-edged sword which I tried to diplomatically cover as best I could to spare everyone pain.

My older sister and my mother didn’t often spend time “chewing the fat” because my sister had her own agenda and rarely had the patience to sit and listen to story after story for hours. It didn’t really occur to me that by virtue of being a good listener and taking time to listen to my mother, I was unwittingly becoming a kind of chronicler for the family archives. After my mother passed away in 2018, I honestly believed I would be able to write her biography. I have not been able to put myself in the right frame of mind to begin doing so.

My parents were typical, hard-working, middle class people who came from very little but amassed a modest fortune and property that they intended on leaving their four children. For some reason (perhaps a fear that making a will would make them die that much sooner) my parents never made a formal will. Their properties in another country were “donated” to us years ago so that is not an issue, but they have one house that has not been willed to anyone. One of my siblings died last year and now three of us are left. Because of my attachment to my parents and their certainty in my integrity, I am the one that was authorized to help with their banking. It was also a matter of practicality: I was the one geographically close to them, I have never been estranged from them – taking a 6 month absence while I underwent therapy doesn’t count – and I have always been very, very responsible. They knew what they were doing and I have done my job honestly, efficiently and well.

The death of my eldest sibling did not affect me as it should have. I had no idea that she was ill but her lifestyle choices had never been optimal and her death did not surprise me. She and I were not on speaking terms when she died and although I feel some guilt about that, I have not been able to conjure more than passing grief that she left us just months after our mother died. Our father, though frail, continues to enjoy pretty good health and at 90 can still get around and manage his daily routines. This will not last forever.

My passion in life has been to entertain. I originally wanted to do it from a stage, as a comic, or a singer, or a storyteller. I have also always wanted to write and in fact, write every single day either in my blogs, on paper or in my head. My recent attendance at a Writers Digest Conference opened my eyes to the fact that I have never taken the time to figure out what it is I want to do with my writing. This is something that I need to address so I can get going. I am currently working on two novels but all the workshops and conferences emphasized the importance of being clear on what it is your intended purpose is in order to get going. It seems there are many different ways of attaining success but one thing is very clear, personal participation in the process from writing to publishing to marketing is dependent on the single creator: me! It is at once an overwhelming sensation and also a very comforting one since it means I am in control of the situation, if you will.

But back to my parents and wills…mental health issues abound in my family. I believe myself to be pretty healthy (is that a sign of mental health or a delusion?). My younger sister is paranoid. There is no way to rose color that. We don’t see each other very often. When we do see each other, I am often on the defensive, not knowing what word or subject will trigger her paranoia. Fortunately, I am getting older and less willing to be spoken to in any old way. I asked her today to meet me so I could show her a document I need to present on her behalf to the Municipal authorities in that other country for tax purposes. My idea was that I could present it for her because I live in said foreign country. Her immediate (and not surprising) response was that she would not be bringing her identification, that she wanted to talk about what she was signing and that she would rather fly and sign the documentation herself. I have no stake in the thing, that is fine. In the past, I might have been hurt or felt like she was accusing me of something. Now I just remember who she is, who I am and that mental health issues are often not as evident from the outside. It is sad and worrisome but I can handle it.

I would love to hear your thoughts.

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Puzzling musings

Whenever I have some “down” time I feel guilty, like I have to fill the minutes with
some important chore. Even as a child, I felt compelled to always be doing something
productive. I remember once (I was a pre-teen) my parents had a party and they had
about 40 guests. When the party was over, it was late. My mother took one look at
the kitchen, with its dozens of dirty plates and glasses, sighed and said she would
clean up in the morning. I don’t know if I imagined it or if it was true, but when the
morning arrived, Mom was pretty upset by being confronted by the mess! We did
not have a dishwasher yet and although she never said it, I suppose part of the reason
she was cranky was that she might have been suffering from a hangover!

My parents enjoyed entertaining so that parties and social gatherings at our house
were common. Mom’s reaction after guests left was always the same: she would take
care of the mess in the morning. I don’t remember when I actually began to clean up
the kitchen so that when she woke up the next morning, all was in order. I do remember,
however, that my life was always that much more pleasant as I didn’t have to deal with
her “whine” which was worse than any yelling she did. I’m not sure where my Dad was
in all this, though I do recall that before the parties, he would be the one vacuuming the
rugs!

In those early teenage years, I established a personal habit that requires my kitchen
sink to be clear of dishes and the kitchen itself to be clean. Since my parents both worked
outside the home, we had our “chores” to make sure the home was functional. I don’t know
when it became my self-appointed responsibility but as long as I lived at home, no one had
to deal with dirty dishes or greasy counters or tables full of crumbs. I remember my older
sister referring to me as “Cinderella” more than once in her inimitable sarcastic manner.
My parents purchased our first dishwasher during the days that I found myself recovering
in the hospital after an operation. I have never believed in coincidences!

As I write these musings down, I am filled with frustration and confusion. When and why
did I decide to take over management of the house? Was the fact that I was such an affable
take-charge individual the reason for my elder sibling’s jealousy? I learned early on that my
sister was not on my side, so I did everything I could to keep her from physically harming
me. I would do my chores and hers. I would give up my “leisure” time in order to get her
out of the many scrapes she got into. I would save my allowance to have it taken away from
me by her because she spent hers quickly. I would not refuse my mother’s requests that my
older sister go with me places because my mom convinced me that I was the lucky one who
made friends easily and had to be the “good” sister. It took getting to age 60 before I accepted
that my sister and I have no real bond. It was a sad realization, one that I still have trouble
coming to terms with, after all, aren’t sisters supposed to be friends and have each other’s
best interest at heart?

Going off into these stream of consciousness reveries have become very cathartic. I feel I
can only heal by writing and more importantly by writing publicly. My sister and I have been
estranged on and off several times over the years. The estrangements have always been a
source of great peace and tranquility for me and have lasted as long as she has had no need of
something only I can provide. I feel in my heart that there won’t be a next time, that she can
now enlist the help of one of our two younger siblings and I don’t know why I didn’t think of
that years ago. It feels good to get it out and down on paper…and out into the ether to see
where it lands. I am sure I am not the only one in the universe who has a less-than-stellar
relationship with an older sister, but I can bet it didn’t take others as long as it did me to
finally give up and move on!

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Sibling musings

I have always had more than a passing interest in astrology, although this post is not going
to be about that. My interest was probably sparked by one of my mother’s comments when
dealing with anyone she didn’t quite understand. For example, if she found something dis-
turbing about a coworker, she might simply say: Well, of course, so and so is a Piscis, so…
I have devoted countless hours to reading about astrology but in a hobby sort of way, now
I am thinking of delving into it more profoundly.

My feelings for my older sister have always been complicated. I have never considered her
a “good” big sister, the one everyone else seems to have, the one that has your back, the one
that is a role model to admire, etc. No, I didn’t get that sister. My older sister is bossy, mean,
narcissistic and manipulative. And that’s just the beginning. We are both in our 60’s now
and have had periods of estrangement throughout our lifetime. Right now, we have not
spoken for over two years and I am hopeful that this will be the status quo for some time
to come. Sibling relationships are so very complex. I have a younger brother and sister also.
Perhaps because my brother and I are the “middle children” and share many of the same
values, we get along fine. My younger sister is also complicated for me but I feel I can handle
our relationship better. This brings me back to astrology. I believe strongly that we are born
into a family that meets all the criteria that we need to work out the various issues we have had
in previous lifetimes. It does not matter that you believe or not believe that, it is enough for me
that I do so otherwise the family that I was born into makes absolutely no sense. But I have
read a little of Edgar Cayce, Rudolf Steiner and others to know that coincidence is just not so.

In any event, getting back to my complicated relationship with my older sister. My mother
worked outside the home since before any of us were born. She was a woman of great ambition.
She vowed she would never be poor (as she was in childhood) and did everything possible to
guarantee that. She was very successful. When she passed away, she and dad had amassed a
small fortune, some property and with good management my father will be well provided for
until it’s time for him to go, which I hope is not soon.

My parents could not afford child care (indeed if that was even a thing in 1960’s New York).
They depended on their two oldest children, ages 12 and 9 to watch and care for the younger
siblings ages 7 and 4. It was up to us older ones to make sure the younger ones were picked up
from school and did their homework. We also had to start preparations for dinner so that it was
underway by the time our folks got home from work.  My mother went back to college to get
her Masters Degree because having it would move her up a few notches on the success scale
and add some necessary income. She excelled in these activities, unfortunately, she paid the
price in terms of time not spent with her kids.

I somehow always “got” the situation; my older sister (rightfully resentful) challenged every-
thing with senseless arguing (I didn’t ask to be born!) which caused me no end of stress. Since
I was more interested in peace within the family, I ended up accepting her outrageous demands
(You have to pick up so and so today, I’m going to the park with my friends!) and bullying.  These
days, the more I write about it, the better I feel that I made a decision (estrangement) that is at
last serving me and only me!

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My first post of 2018!

It’s kind of ironic! My last post was on the 30th of December, posting about the birthday
celebration we had for my father. I was excited about the end of 2017, a terrific year for me.
I ended that post by saying that I had my three priorities in a row for 2018 (lose weight,
concentrate my energies on my writing, and tackle my weed-filled small area and turn it
into a beautiful garden.

All plans are made to be changed, and mine were no different. On January 1st, my mother
passed away. Although it was not unexpected since she had been in the last stages of her
very long illness, it was a shock that she died on the first of 2018. It was almost as if she said
to herself “Let my daughter enjoy the end of 2017 since it has been a good year for her, and let
her realize that she has only so much control over some things.” It was so like my Mom.

In any event, we took care of everything related to this life event and after two weeks, I am
finally at home and ready to begin my year anew. It is wonderful to share with you all that
in the last two weeks, I have been careful about what things I put in my mouth and I happily
report that I have lost almost 9 lbs. since the beginning of December of my Weight Watchers
journey. I am thrilled with that number and have already seen the benefits of the weight loss,
not only on how clothes fit me or how I look in the mirror, but also in terms of my self-esteem
and the physical endurance I seem to possess right now.

My mother was my world growing up. I stayed close to her, despite our different perspectives
on many things, for my entire life. Although her illness was hard to watch, I did not ever feel I
would be prepared for her passing. Back in August, I broke down when talking to my daughter
and I shared that I didn’t know how I would face a life without her. But I believe in God, and
God gently nudged me in the direction of acceptance. Seeing my mother’s peaceful countenance
confirmed that she had gone quietly and hopefully without any pain.

I am now the second oldest of the many cousins I have. I might as well be the oldest since my
older sister has more or less abandoned the family. I feel it is a tremendous responsibility but
also a great honor to be the “matriarch” of our tribe…

Happy 2018 to us all.

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Personal development trends

I have shared before that I was eight years old when my family moved to the U.S.
My mom did not work the first year we were here but by the time I was ten, she was
a full-time employee and 3 of her 4 children were latch-key kids. Our youngest
sister was only around 4 so she spent her days being cared for by a retired couple
and my older sister or I would pick her up from there every afternoon on our way
home from school. This is not an atypical situation for the newly arrived and I
guess I didn’t think much of it at the time, it was just the way life was.

While I am curious about things, I am not the kind of person willing to go through
hypnosis in order to bring up memories of the past, I honestly like my life and see
no purpose in exploring what might turn out to be a negative event. I would love to
know, though, what experience I lived through or observed that made such an impression
on me that I realized very early in my life that I am responsible for everything that
happens to me; that events aren’t necessarily as important as our reaction to them.

For example, as a latchkey kid and an older sibling, I had a tremendous amount of
responsibilities: pick up my sister, do the shopping, start dinner, straighten up,
do my homework, get good grades, etc. It made no sense to complain. My dad rarely
involved himself in household disputes and my mom was a bit of a tyrant and not
in any way shy about the use of negative words or the occasional slap to make us
comply with her orders. Rather than fighting or resenting it, I did my best to
do what was required quickly so that I could spend the rest of my time on my own
interests. The problem with this method is that I was usually ahead of my schedule
but my older sister rarely was ahead of hers and I ended up doing her chores so that
we wouldn’t have to listen to our mother’s screaming when she got home tired, hungry,
and anxious after a long day at work. My penchant for “peace at any cost” became
my mantra but until recently, I never really gave it any deep attention.

I received a phone call recently from someone who was inviting me to participate
in a personal development opportunity. I have been very interested in the Human
Potential Movement since 1971 (or before probably) and I am fascinated by the things
that people do, considering myself an unpaid journey(wo)man in this field. The
invitation, rather than interesting me, annoyed me because I felt I was being
pressured into accepting giving up precious hours on an evening when I would rather
perfect my craft (writing) or do nothing at all, something I rarely indulge in.
When my refusal to attend was met with incredulity at first and an abrupt send-off,
I realized I might have offended or even hurt my friend. Alas, I am too old and now
too aware of what I do want to do with my time to worry too much about it. I suppose
it will be a while before this friend reaches out to me but it is something I accept.

I used to love to watch a larger than life personality when he first started doing
infomercials. Since my desire to make every second of my day count is strong, I was
often sewing or writing into the night and enjoyed listening to his powerful message
of transformation. I was mesmerized by his ability to grab my attention and keep it
and I stopped short of purchasing any of his “empowering” videos or books simply
because I was very frugal and did not have too much money at my disposal.

I accepted that I could change my current situation if I wanted, I held myself
accountable for every single thing that I experienced. I guess you could say,
I didn’t really feel I needed the help but enjoyed the heck out of the infomercials!
A few years ago, I noticed that my “mentor” has changed a lot.
It seems to be all about marketing now, and where his videos and books
were available for under $50 back then, his workshops are now very, very expensive. My
love affair with him has ended and while I understand that many rich people can afford
his events, I am disappointed and saddened that he has gone this route. I have a minor
in marketing and I have never been comfortable with the notion of “making someone believe
they need something they never thought about before”. I think ethics have gone out the
window and I refuse to join that club. As I used to say and haven’t had to in a long
time, I want to recognize the face I see in the mirror looking back at me. At least
for today, I still can.

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Adult siblings!!

I am currently estranged from one of my siblings. It pains me to admit it but
it is a reality from which I will not move a finger to reconcile. After +50
years of being bullied, manipulated, lied to, taken advantage of, etc. I guess I
saw the light and saw my sibling as an individual rather than someone whose
connection to me (blood) was so strong I actually (and often) gave in to unreasonable
demands just so we could be in relationship.

I realize now that my sibling was always jealous of me and that perhaps my
loyalty lied with my parents and also I did not want to be the child that
disappointed them or made them think their parenting styles were somewhat faulty.

While I cannot really recall being compared negatively with my sibling, I do
recall my mom telling me that my sibling was somehow lacking in emotional maturity,
social skills, etc. and that because I was thought to have an abundance of these,
I should feel sorry for my sibling and include my sibling in my life and activities
all the time.

We grew up, married, yet remained connected. Sometimes long periods of silence
between us ensued as a result of life getting complicate for us both but I always
managed to connect and make sure I had plenty of information to provide my parents
from whom my sibling was estranged for years at a time.

This is the first time that I feel no urge to reconnect; the last insult was almost
a year ago and rather than feeling lonely, I feel light and airy that I have lost
the constant stress and anxiety that walking on eggshells put me under. I will admit
that losing a sibling who shared many memories of our early childhood is rather sad
but the benefits for me are what I focus on each day. These days I can honestly say
that my thoughts do not center on my sibling every day like they used to. I think of
my sibling perhaps a couple of times a week, without any guilt or desire for connection.

Life is short, only lived once and as I age I realize that no one really needs to be
a martyr and that my immediate family is relieved by my decision, one they thought I
should have taken long ago.

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