Self-Involved Suck

(I often say Oi. Notice the spelling; it’s an Irish colloquialism.)

Um let’s see. At this moment I feel all sorts of emotions and a need to be debriefed like an undercover agent would be after a successful mission.

All of the planning that went into getting us to Philadelphia to visit my bro in law and his family is unreal. You’d think it would all be simple, since we were a group of 6 adults travelling together, but nothing is ever simple when there is such a mix of personalities. Adults especially, because we are used to independence and doing as we please on our own schedule at a pace we set for ourselves. Group dynamics, whee! I should have paid more attention during my courses on Organizational Development.

I’m not even sure how to describe the last 5 days of my life. Readers here know I’m not perfect. I was very harsh some months ago regarding my husband’s former wife. I was misinformed about some events that had taken place and I very wrongly placed blame on her for my hurt feelings and those of my husband. I found out some time after that, that I was very wrong. I’m not sure where this leaves me with her, since she read the blog post, but a direct result of that kerfuffle (such a benign term for the cataclysmic shift that occurred), is that I have greatly reduced my presence in the lives of my step adults. Well, that detachment is pretty impossible to maintain when you spend nearly every waking moment together for 4 days. The main problem with my involvement is that I end up thinking my relationship with the step adults is deeper than it really is, I end up very involved and therefore invested in their drama (people in their 20s have an abundance of this and might even require it), and I end up feeling physically and mentally exhausted after no headway has been made in any direction.  As I have written before, I am not their mother and they don’t need another mother or mother figure or mother-ing of any kind from me. These are fully formed adults who are living on their own, making their own choices.

I don’t know why I went into such detail just now, but there it is.

Last night I thought a lot about how detached I am from the culture in which I grew up. I want to rectify this for my midgets before it’s too late (i.e. I can no longer force them to go places with me). I have a huge base of knowledge about Christianity because I went to church every Sunday (except in the Summers) for 14 years or so.  I take this knowledge for granted, I realized this weekend. I felt a physical jolt as I figured out that I need to teach my midgets about my culture to round out their education.

Also. Husband is the apple of his mother’s eye. And now that his mother is elderly (85), she needs help from him quite often, even in the form of a daily phone call. Yes daily. I’ve accepted it. I think about my own boy midget and how I feel about him (I like him a lot as well as love him), and I hope hope hope that when I am 85 I can ask him for help and keep in contact with him. So, I’m going to try to stop being such a self-involved suck.

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